The Oppenheimer Report 11/25/13

Demolition of the old cottage in 2007

This was the week when winter arrived with a vengeance. All over North America there was crazy weather, with snowstorms in the west and destructive tornadoes in the mid-west. As I begin writing this report on Sunday, we’re in the deep freeze up here in the Great White North, and the mercury is hovering around 8 degrees F. Jasper has officially donned her polar fleece Canadian-flag design winter coat for the season. When it gets really cold, as it has been the past few nights, I also put her boots on. She hates the boots (“Mutt-Luks”) and tries to kick them off, which is pretty funny to watch, but without them her paws freeze up within minutes. She gets as far away from the house as we walk and then lifts one paw as if to say “I’m cold now, pick me up and carry me home.” The night before last we had a significant snowfall and there is more in the forecast for this week. Tomorrow the Blizzak snow tires go on the SUV, and what a difference those babies make. We need radial snows up here. Just in time, as I head down to Toronto later this week, through lake effect alley, to pick up Shauna’s mom for a Chanukah visit.

Because I embrace winter weather with the resignation of an Eskimo, I have some excellent winter gear. From our hikes in the mountains, I have knee-high gators for keeping snow out of my boots. For heavier duty snow play I have snowmobile pants (we used to call them leggings), fleece-lined snowmobile boots, a down vest, a face mask, and plenty of long underwear. The one thing I have never been able to keep warm are my hands, and no matter how heavy duty the gloves are, when I’m out on the ATV zipping along at 40-50MPH, wind chill is a factor. This year I researched heated glove liners and finally bought a pair manufactured by a Canadian company called MotionHeat. They seemed to be the best electric glove I could find. Of course these liners were in high demand and were on back order, but last week, just in time for the first arctic blast, they arrived. Once I figured out the wiring harness, how to attach it to the 12 volt outlet on my ATV, and how to adjust the temperature – I know, it sounds like a lot of bother – they worked perfectly. I took a long ride in the arctic air and everything stayed warm, including my hands. These electric glove liners are not cheap, but they are a lot cheaper than the grip warmers I was about to buy for the ATV, and they come with a rechargeable lithium ion battery good for 3 hours of off-the-grid warmth. Bottom line, they work, and comfort in this cold northern climate is worth a lot. I only wish these things had been around when I was still an avid snow skier. Some of those lift rides in the mountains of Vermont were pretty darned frosty.

We had a scare last week when it was reported to me that our snowplow guy, Harvey had passed away. News travels fast in a small town, but it turned out it was another guy in the community with the same name (even the same middle initial!) who had died. For about two hours I was mildly freaking out. First of all, he is the best snowplow guy in the area; always reliable and fair. But more important, he’s a buddy, and I enjoy his company. I called his house to send my condolences, and he answered the phone. We had a good laugh, and I later sent him one of my historic Buffalo post cards with a note on the back saying “I was relieved to hear that news of your untimely demise was greatly exaggerated.”

I watched Toronto Mayor Rob Ford body check some council woman to the floor as he attempted to address some hecklers in council chambers. Talk about video gold, the news had a field day with that footage. Hulk Hogan, stand back. There was much talk in the news this week about a deal with Iran that will ensure their nuclear program will not be used to produce weapons. All of this is allegedly verifiable, but  Israel is predictably skeptical, and so am I. Last week marked the 50^th Anniversary of JFK’s assassination. I remember where I was. In my sister’s bedroom in Buffalo watching it on a portable black and white T.V. I can’t believe that was fifty years ago. A pre-emptive Happy Thanksgiving to all my buddies stateside, hope you all have a great bird with your families!

                           - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/18/13

Last Friday night I had the opportunity to play a few my songs at the monthly Burk’s Falls “Coffee House”, and it is always gratifying to play a couple of my songs for a receptive audience. I dragged Shauna out with me and I think it was therapeutic for her to let go of her grief and to meet some new people. These coffee houses provide a good chance to meet like-minded people in the community who share a love of music and good song writing. I’ve been playing open stages for over thirty years now and I have yet to play a better venue for songwriters than this one. On Friday, I met two good writers who performed their own songs, and we sat with an older guy named Sam Fattore, who moved up here from Hamilton recently. Sam played several good covers of older country songs (George Jones, Hank Williams, etc.) and I ended up buying his CD, although traditional country music is not my favorite genre. We talked guitars and swapped war stories about the worst venues we’ve played. A few weeks ago I acknowledged the passing of rock icon Lou Reed, and I alluded to the fact that he had influenced my song writing. One of the songs I played last Friday night was Dear Dirty Dublin, one of my favorites in my repertoire, and Lou Reed figured significantly in the writing of that song.

Dear Dirty Dublin recounts the story of an all-night party in which I participated, back in 1977, in a suburb south of Dublin. The Irish know how to have a good time and my Irish partners in crime and I drank a lot of Irish whisky, smoked some home grown weed, and all night long we listened to Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen albums. As the party was winding down in the wee hours of the morn, someone had the brilliant idea to continue the celebration at some skid row bar in the bowels of Dublin. That decision required a bus ride into the city, and still loaded from the bender, we boarded the double decker 6A bus headed for Dublin. Because it was the first bus of the morning, it was filled with all the bus drivers who were to be dropped off at their respective stops along the way. You can imagine how strange it was to board this bus, inebriated as we were, and to see it full of uniformed bus drivers going to work.

 “…The trees are black cracks against the diesel sky/ And through my reflection I watch the cars go by/ Dublin Bay is on my right the water cool and still/ Rid me of this vagrancy, I’m gonna drink my fill.”

I remember everything about that long ride into town, and I remember we ended up at a skid row bar along the Liffy River in the industrial section of downtown Dublin. We arrived just before the doors opened, and tinkers (what the Irish call gypsies), were milling about outside waiting for first call. When the doors did open shortly thereafter, we entered a world I had not seen before and have not seen since. I felt as if I was half immersed in this foul underbelly of vagrancy, and it was a real life lesson. We drank at this bar for several hours and then staggered back into the city centre, making an obligatory stop at the Trinity College campus to view the Book of Kells (which, as it turns out, is even more interesting to view smashed), before heading home to sleep off what had been a legendary bender. At the time, I was in a literature class and studying Joyce’s Ulysses, hence the title of the song and the general theme of exile.

 “…That pub down by the Liffy, tinkers circling outside/ Soon they’re shooting whiskey and spilling Irish jive/ From delirium to paradise is such an easy slide/ This ain’t no kissin’ the Blarney Stone, it ain’t no tour bus ride/ No sir this is the 6A bus to the bottom of the line/ Dear Dirty Dublin, I think I’m out of time.”       

Hitting rock bottom is part of what that song is about, and as I watch the Rob Ford scandal unfold, I think I’m watching it happen to him. From SNL to CNN, Ford has become the laughing stock of the world, and he is taking Toronto down with him. How a man can in his right mind presume his glaringly public and deplorable behavior will go unpunished, especially under the microscope of the media, is beyond me. Today Toronto City Council votes, I think on whether or not to strip Ford of his operating budget. Last week they voted almost unanimously to strip him of his staff. Ford says he will challenge their decisions in court, at the taxpayer’s expense, if his power is taken away, but one way or another, this pathetic man is going to need a bulldozer to pull him out of the political quagmire into which he has fallen, head first.

                             - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/11/13

REMEMBRANCE DAY 2013 ...

For Canadians last week, the big news focused on political scandal. In an ongoing Senate scandal, three senators, Pamela Wallin, Mike Duffy, and Patrick Brazeau, were suspended without pay until the next election in 2015, for their various acts of fiscal impropriety. As Jon Stewart quipped, thank goodness it was the Canadian and not the U.S. government for a change! Some Canadians think the senate should be abolished altogether, and these stories of waste and fraud certainly reinforce their case. But the real story last week, and the one that has provided fodder for comedians across the globe, is the scandal that broke in Toronto.

Our rotund “I’m-going-to-cut-out-the pork” Toronto Mayor Rob Ford finally admitted that he had in fact smoked crack cocaine about a year ago “in one of his drunken stupors.” This earth-shattering revelation came after repeated allegations by The Toronto Star that there was a video showing the mayor with a bunch of lowlife gangsters smoking crack. That video apparently surfaced back in May of this year, but then it mysteriously disappeared before it could be made public. There was the (above-pictured) photo, splashed all over the news, of his honor arm in arm with a couple of gang members, and one of those gangsters was subsequently shot to death (coincidentally, not long after the news of the video was reported). The whole thing was a huge scandal when the story broke but, when no one could produce the smoking gun video, it faded away for a while. The media “maggots” (Ford's words) would not let go of the story, and last week, not only did the police announce that they had recovered the video from a confiscated hard drive, but concurrently, the media came after Ford with guns a-blazin’. It was Quasimodo in the public square. There were photos of Ford wasted at The Taste of Danforth street party; reports of him stewed to the gills in City Hall, carrying a half empty bottle of booze and accompanied by some strange women; photos captured from a surveillance video insinuating some kind of drug deal or payoff; and my absolute favorite: a photograph of his honor pissing in the bushes, in some public place. Videos went viral; one showing Ford ranting menacingly in a drunken rage about someone who had dissed him and his family, and another of  Ford embarrassingly drunk in public, falling down while trying to pass a football. In short, last week was a train wreck for the Toronto mayor, and he is now being tried harshly in the court of public opinion.

Ford needed a good spin doctor when the feces hit the fan, but like so many men in power, he thought he could keep a lid on his bad behavior. The guy has a drinking problem, and whether he is an alcoholic, or a binge drinker, or just a guy who can’t handle his booze, his public behavior is clearly inappropriate for a mayor of one of the largest cities in Canada. As much fun as it can be to lampoon the ridiculous behavior of an elected official, I do not enjoy watching this man embarrass himself in public. When Ford did finally admit that he had in fact smoked crack, his attitude seemed to be, “ Hey, haven’t you ever been so hammered that you did something stupid, like smoke crack, or shoot heroin, or get a giant tattoo on your butt that says “This way to the Lincoln Tunnel?” The media has literally hung him out to dry (out) and he is the now laughing stock of the world, at least until the hyenas move on to the next wildebeest on the savannah. Oh, please Mylie Cyrus, do something really stupid again and take the spotlight off our mayor! While history is full of questionable behavior by politicians (former President Bill Clinton and U.S Senator Packwood immediately spring to mind), Ford has clearly crossed the line. He got caught with his tent-sized pants down, and the real problem, for him and for the taxpayers of the City of Toronto, is that so far he has refused to step down, or even to take a leave of absence. It is almost impossible for anyone else to force him out of office, unless he is found guilty of a crime, and by refusing to step down, he has begged the police to come after him criminally. This guy has more skeletons in his backyard than Pol Pot, and my suspicion is that his past is going to bite him in his quadruple X derriere. Ironically, his approval rating actually rose when the scandal was unfolding, and many of his constituents think he has done a good job for the Toronto taxpayers. He could have beat this scandal had he played his cards right. History sanitizes misbehavior, and Marion Barry is proof positive that scandalous behavior can be overcome.

In more significant news, last week Super Typhoon Haiyan hammered the Philippines as a Cat 5 storm, with sustained winds of around 275 KPH. It is being called the most powerful storm ever to make landfall. There may be as many as 10,000 or more casualties from this super storm and the pictures of tornado-like destruction tell the story. Tacloban city in the central region of the Philippine Islands took a direct hit and is now a pile of rubble. Finally, it is Remembrance Day, so let us all give thanks today to all the veterans, dead or alive, who sacrificed so much to protect our freedom. Despite the bad behavior of some of our public officials, we honor and appreciate your service to our countries.   

                             - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/4/13

10/31/13 – DATELINE HALLOWEEN – MOTHER NATURE TRICKS TREATERS! I begin this report on the afternoon of Halloween. When I got up this morning, I turned on the Weather Channel, as I often do, and I was confronted with the red screen of death: a Meteorological Alert for Burks Falls and surrounding area, warning of heavy rain and damaging winds. My big boat is out of the water, and our dock is finally up, but my folding boat was still pulled up on the shore. I scurried down to the lake before the heavy rain started, flipped the little boat over and put the motor in the shed. I’m not ready to admit boating season is over just yet, and I have yet to winterize the motor, but I might as well batten down the hatches in the meantime. When I lived in Buffalo, I used to moor my big boat in Lake Erie off our Canadian summer home near Crystal Beach. Almost like clockwork, the weather would turn around mid-September and it was wise to be out of the open lake by then. I tried to stretch the season a couple of times, only to endure a few sleepless nights watching the wind-driven waves toss my boat around like a bar of Ivory soap on the open seas. You don’t want to mess with Lake Erie when the wind kicks up. I once watched my vintage 1957 Chris Craft drag its mooring (a cement-filled truck tire with 100’ of chain for scope), 200 yards during a bad storm. I finally went out in the middle of the storm and secured it with two Danforth anchors off the bow to keep it from beaching. It came to rest about 10’ from a neighbor’s steel boat lift, with about five inches of clearance between the bottom of the propeller and the lake bottom. That was close. Up here in the Great White North we get some heavy wind, but with a secure dock, snubbers, bumpers, and dock whips, I don’t worry about my boat in a storm.

 Every year when Halloween rolls around, I quietly pine for the days when it meant more to me. At the checkout counter in the local supermarket, all the cashiers were in costume for Halloween, and it made me a little nostalgic. I always had a costume for Halloween. My self-made tuna costume was legendary, and if I do say so myself, my dead lawyer was pretty good too. One year I dressed as Abe Lincoln after he was shot. That one was somewhat derivative in that it was a little like the dead lawyer, but with more blood, a beard, a hole in my head, and a bow tie instead of a necktie. I have always been a Halloween purist, and believe that creativity is an important part of the gig. Anyone can go out and buy or rent a Lady Gaga costume, and if I had a dollar for every Chewbacca suit I’ve seen, I’d be a rich man. How many tuna fish costumes do you come across? Sometimes the concept is more important than the actual costume. Once, my buddy Bob dressed up as the Pope, put a noose around his neck, and billed his costume as “Pope on a Rope.” One girlfriend I knew came to our Halloween party dressed as a whale stuck in a block of ice. She cut a big hole in a sheet of Styrofoam for ice. Genius! Another friend filled up a clear trash bag with dead leaves, made a giant “Salada” sign, taped some cloths line to it and to herself and came as a giant tea bag. Sadly, Halloween is becoming a big retail money maker, and therein lies the death of creativity. Come September, even the dollar store is a sea of orange and black plastic and crepe. I read somewhere that Halloween greeting cards are now very popular. I think it is sacrilege to buy a tube of fake blood and some fake fangs and “phone in” your costume. Go big or go home.

These days, the part I like best about Halloween is the scary movies. I can catch up on all the horror flicks I have not yet seen, or have not seen in a long time. Just watched or recorded The Ring, Sinister Movie, Evil Dead, Hostel (yikes!), and several others. One thing I can say about today’s scary movies – they don’t leave much to the imagination. Still, I think guys like Lugosi, Cheney, and Price had a corner on the creepy market. One final note about Halloween. I realize that, in this increasingly dangerous world, parents must be vigilant in protecting their young kids from malevolent treat-givers, but I saw something on the news the other night that made me bristle. Instead of treats, one woman in Toronto was handing out letters to the parents of overweight children reprimanding them for allowing their kids to eat candy. There’s one in every crowd! While child obesity is a growing problem in some parts of the world, come on lady, do you need to spoil Halloween? Pelt that self-righteous baby-on-boarder with candy korn and give her thirty lashes with shoestring licorice. Save your buzz kill for Christmas like the rest of us!

11/4/13 The storm has passed, and now it’s just very cold (25F last night). We had some trees down on the property and were without power for a few hours, but had no major damage. I hate to admit it, but perhaps boating season is over. Time to dust off my elf costume.     

-        Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED