The Oppenheimer Report 1/27/14

I never thought the day would come, but I finally went out and ordered a block heater for my car. Up here in the Great White North we have experienced the business end of that polar vortex which has enveloped the rest of the Northeast, and for this past week, the mercury sank to below -20 F almost every night. That is nose hair-freezing cold. Last Tuesday morning, I was supposed to drive to a nearby recording studio in Emsdale to finish a couple of songs I’d begun recording, and the outdoor thermometer read -27F.  I stuck the key in the ignition of my car, tried turning the engine over, and it sounded like the pistons were in mud. After three or four attempts, I realized that this engine was going to need a little help, so I pulled out my portable rechargeable battery pack, a handy thing to have for boat or car, and reached down to pop the hood. Not so quick. The hood was frozen shut! There was probably a little moisture on the cable that releases the hood latch, and that would not budge. Dead in the water, I called the guy at the studio and cancelled, which was disappointing. About three hours later in the day, in the noonday sun, after hitting the cable with a hair dryer, I finally got the hood open and managed to get the engine started. In all my years leaving my car outside in Buffalo winters, and my five years living up here, I have never before needed a block heater; but as soon as I got the car started, I drove over to the local auto shop and ordered one. When you see a plug sticking out the front of a car grill, it is likely for a block heater, and they are quite commonplace up here in the Great White North. I might need it once every two or three winters, but when I need it, I really need it. By the time I get it installed tomorrow, this polar blast might be over, but at least I’ll avoid this aggravation the next time.  

Just when we thought it could not get any worse for Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, yet another video surfaced last week of a drunken, slurring Ford in a fast food restaurant, ranting on about something with a terrible Jamaican accent. Someone emailed me the above photograph after the incident. No crackhead no cry. Funny, because a few days before the video surfaced, I had prematurely suggested that Ford was beginning to look like he had cleaned up his act. He appeared to be a little thinner, he was speaking in complete sentences; he looked pretty good. But now, he hasn’t just fallen off the wagon, he’s jumped head first into the empty pool. When the press grilled him about his latest offensive public behavior, he used the old “what-I-do-on-my-own-time -with- friends-is-my-business” line. Yo,Your Honourless, if you are going to misbehave, do it in private, which means not in a fast food restaurant, and tell your “friends” not to videotape you on their cell phones! It may be true that the press has it out for Ford, but goodness knows he’s made it easy! In what universe did he assume it was O.K. to screw up in public, yet again? This isn’t Mayberry; you don’t just sleep it off in jail and let yourself out in the next morning (cryptic reference to my man Otis). One might even get away with this nonsense in some rustbelt city, but you are the mayor of a major international city, WAKE UP!!!Up until now, and given the incredible ability of constituencies to forgive the bad behavior of their elected officials, I would have predicted that a clean and sober Rob Ford, rising from his own ashes, might have had a chance at re-election. Again, look at former D.C. mayor Marion Barry. But I am fairly sure this latest faux pas, picked up by every major news source and every late night talk show host in the world, will be the nail in the coffin for SpongeRob Tentpants. The good news, if there is any, is that for all the people out there with drinking problems, Ford is a poster child for just how glaringly obvious your problem is, to everyone but you.

Speaking of bad behavior, Justin the Biebster finally crossed the line as well. That DUI in Miami could be an expensive mistake for the Prince of Pop. Nice mug shot by the way, almost as good as Nick Nolte’s. We all love it when celebrities misbehave, don’t we? While the young pop star did apparently pass the Breathalyzer test, he then admitted to smoking some weed and taking some prescription drugs. He also used the “F” word more than once in the presence of a police officer. What a badass motherfudger. Thank goodness I wasn’t famous when I was a teenager; I think I would have been a train wreck in the public eye. One part of me is sympathetic to this kid who is getting eaten alive by the press, and one side of me thinks he might deserve it if he’s acting like a little dickhead. Not every celebrity mishandles fame, but history reminds us over and over that fame can be corrosive. Winky needs to start listening to his publicist, or else step out of the spotlight for awhile. Speaking of fame, I will be interviewed on an internet radio station called Hunter’s Bay Radio  (http://www. muskokaonline.com) this Wednesday between 11:00AM and Noon. The show is called “Talent on the Bay”, and I will be playing a few of my songs during the interview. If you’re near a computer, it might be amusing to listen to me choke in public. Needless to say, I’m nervous, but excited.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/20/14

Last Saturday, I headed down to Toronto to meet my buddy Bob from Buffalo and to attend the annual Toronto International Boat Show. We’ve been going to these Toronto boat shows for a long time, starting back when I still lived in Buffalo, and  these shows are gradually becoming less and less interesting to me. Perhaps it is simply that there only so many pontoon boats, bass boats, sailboats and “personal watercraft” one can look at in a day before one gets bored. Both of us are becoming too impatient to stand in line for 20 minutes in order to board and inspect one of the trawlers, cabin cruisers, or the bigger sailboats. Perhaps it is that the two of us own great boats already and are not really interested in purchasing something new. If I were to replace my rig it would cost me about five times what I have into my present boat, and this is a strong disincentive. Bob’s boat, pictured above in last year’s WNY Poker run, is quite old (1972 I believe), and I suppose Bob would be happy to replace it with something like a 30’ Cigarette, when he finally cracks his Magnum in half on a rogue wave, but something like that would cost the equivalent of most family’s retirement savings. Besides, mooring a craft like that alone on choppy lake like Lake Erie can be a bit tricky. And we’re not getting any younger. During past shows Bob and I would have a couple of beers at the beer garden, listen to some poor bastard play Neil Young covers on a cheap PA system (great gig by the way), following which I would amuse myself by listening to Bob interrogate some ill-informed boat salesman about the defective nature of his product. Bob would ask a rhetorical question, such as: “How come the gel coat’s so wavy on the hull?” and then move in for the kill when the salesman started to back pedal from some ignorant misrepresentation. But presently, both Bob and I are on the wagon - it’s much easier to do this when your drinking buddy quits as well – and somehow the sport of salesman stalking isn’t quite as much fun without a buzz on. So we may need to find another annual event to entertain us. Mardi Gras isn’t going to be a lot of fun sober, so perhaps we’ll need to up the ante on boat shows. I’d like to attend the Miami show some day, because down there we’d see a lot more of the offshore boats that we want to see. Pipe dreams keep me going.        

There was a segment on the 11 O’Clock News last night entitled “Trouble on the Tracks” about some of the recent train derailments in Canada. After Lac-Megantic derailment in Quebec last July, which  killed dozens of people and burned down half the town, and which was reportedly the deadliest rail disaster in Canada since 1864, there was much discussion about the volatility of certain kinds of crude oil, and about the dubious safety of certain kinds of tanker cars used to transport this oil. I remember that disaster quite clearly because it happened the day my father-in-law had the massive stroke which ultimately took his life. That was one serious explosion and there were reports that the heat from its fireball could be felt 2 kilometers away from the blast. I read more about the disaster after seeing the TV segment and learned, among other things, that oil from the ruptured tanker cars poured into the storm sewer system and then exploded, wreaking havoc in the center of town.  Then there was a more recent tanker derailment in New Brunswick, and I believe one in the Midwestern United States as well, causing some to question whether oil should be transported by rail in close proximity to any populated area. Admittedly, I do not know much about the safety procedures in place for transporting oil, but this Keystone Pipeline that the Harper government is so avidly promoting seems to have the potential to cause some major damage. Neil Young, the king of protest songs, is not making any friends in the Province of Alberta right now. He is presently raising money on an abbreviated concert tour to protest the oil sands and a proposed pipeline development in the Northern part of that province. Disregarding, as we always seem to do, the environmental ramifications of pipelines, of fracking, and of transporting volatile materials like Bakken crude, not to mention the increased vulnerability to terrorist attacks, we always seem to go for the cheapest energy solution, don’t we? Really what incentive is there for oil companies to change direction, when there is still a plentiful supply of and demand for black gold? No sir, the caboose has left the station, everybody don their asbestos drag racing suits, and don’t forget the weenies and marshmallows.

Final note … just when the NHL and other pro sports organizations are starting to take a closer look at the fallout from sports violence, did anyone see the story about hot-headed John Tortorella, coach of the Vancouver Canucks? Tortorella faces a fine and possible suspension for losing his temper after a game with the Calgary Flames over a match-up of “enforcers”. I’m no fan of goon hockey, and I hate when stupid injuries are the deciding factor in who wins the game. Once again, I think the lust for blood is still there among the fans, but I wonder how the bloodthirsty fans will feel when they lose a money player like Sidney Crosby or Steve Stamkos, sidelined for good because of some goon was just following orders. As for Tortorella, anger management classes may be in his future. Leafs are not out of it yet.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/13/14

Today’s rant is twofold and concerns bureaucracy and incompetence, two of my favorite subjects.

The first story involves Canadian Customs and UPS. About a month ago we sold the Taylor condo down near Miami, because none of us was using it, and because the condominium association to which we belonged was “troublesome.” Corrupt, lazy, infuriating, incompetent, bordering on criminal; these are other modifiers that might apply as well. Every year there was some new and more onerous rules restricting our quiet enjoyment of our property; new restrictions about renting the unit to a third party (i.e. it’s next to impossible), another cash grab or special assessment, and of course the constant hassles involved in getting anything fixed. In absentia, and given that we were dealing with constant medical issues in Toronto, we finally threw in the towel and sold the place. I lived in constant fear that the A/C would fail and the place would become a swampy cesspool of mold and maggots. I will not even go into the IRS nightmare involved when a Canadian citizen sells a U.S. property, and the nonsense involved in paying the U.S. income tax for that property. There were some large items Shauna and her mom wanted to have shipped back up to Canada, and after some investigation, Shauna chose UPS Freight to deliver the goods. When we had finally jumped through the hoops of fire involved in paying to use the condo building freight elevator ($100 for non-exclusive use of an elevator!), and arranging to have a security guard present when the movers came to move the items out, we then breathed a sigh of relief, foolishly assuming that our troubles were over. We had been told by the Florida UPS office that the items would be delivered within a week or so, and that for their (I thought rather high) fee, they would handle all the customs issues. Right! None of this stuff was particularly valuable, and none of it was anything a customs agent at the Peace Bridge would not have waved through without thinking twice. Then we got a call from UPS Freight in Toronto informing us that our shipment had in fact arrived, but that we needed to employ a customs broker in order to clear customs. We hired a customs broker only to be told that in fact she could not help us. After an unbelievable amount of time on the phone and the necessity to inconvenience a friend and designated “agent” to vouch for us at customs, the items were finally cleared to be shipped. THEN, last Thursday we were informed by UPS that they had lost one of the four boxes. Oy! And of course, everyone passes the buck. Free trade my, ass. Someone is successfully importing tons of heroin while the jokers in customs are holding people like us up over $200 in personal effects! Kudos to UPS as well for losing some of our stuff.

 

The second story involves renewing my Permanent Resident Card in Canada. I have chosen so far not to become a Canadian citizen and so I must renew my permanent resident status every five years. The application for renewal is pretty long, and involves a lot of notarizing and photocopying, and answering questions such as, have I slept with any Haitians in the past five years, dealt with any drug cartels, murdered anyone, etc. You know, the usual questions. There is a special photo required, which is different from the passport photo, with all sorts of rules about size and facial expression.  In short, the Canadian permanent resident renewal application is a big pain in the derriere to put together, and I sure didn’t want to do it twice. My card expires in February of this year, and, to be proactive, I had applied for the renewal in September. After the first of this New Year I became a little nervous that my application had not even been received, much less approved, because I got no confirmation of receipt. Stupidly, I had sent it regular, not registered mail, and who knows where the regular mail ends up. Try to contact the Canadian Immigration to determine the status of your application. It is next to impossible. And while there is a website, with a you-can’t-get-there-from-here list of steps to determine if one’s application has even been received, it has been all but overwhelmed with traffic since the recent disaster in the Philippines. I am hoping to get through to someone in immigration soon, as the new card is somewhat essential for border crossings.

Tomorrow, assuming I can negotiate the uphill skating rink which is presently our driveway, I will drive to a nearby studio and lay down tracks for two of my songs, employing someone who knows more about this than I do. I am nervous, but feel the time has come. Wish me luck. In the news, Israel’s Ariel Sharon passed away last week. Toronto’s Rob Ford is a new man, and the Leafs are fast approaching the point where they will not make the playoffs, which is somewhat (but not a lot) more disappointing than watching them lose a 3 goal lead in game 7 of last year’s round one of the playoffs, against the Bruins. Why do I keep doing this, why am I a Leafs fan?  I’m like an abuse victim who just keeps coming back for more. I’m going back to rooting for the Sabres, at least there I know what to expect!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/6/14

It had never happened since we moved into this home, but last Thursday, due to a comedy of errors, we ran out of propane and lost heat on the coldest day of the winter. On Christmas Eve we allegedly got a call from the propane supplier to inform us that the truck driver could not get down our driveway, and that we needed to plow before he could deliver his shipment. That message never got to us because our phones were down when they called. They thought they’d left a message on voice mail, so they never called a second time, but the message never came through. About 6AM Thursday morning, when I got up to go to the john, I noticed it was a bit chilly in the bedroom. Checked the thermostat and sure enough, we were down to 61F degrees. Downstairs was even colder. I figured something was wrong with the furnace, but then saw the pilot light was out on the propane-fired imitation wood stove as well. Propane can freeze if it gets really, really cold. I then ran around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to determine what was wrong. When I finally went out to the propane tank and checked the gauge, sure enough it was completely empty. After scrambling to ensure the driveway was passable, we arranged to get an emergency supply delivered to tide us over. We are now topped up and good for another month or so, as long as the power does not go out, necessitating the use of our propane-fired generator. I do complain about the weather a lot, don’t I?

Years ago my buddy Bob bought me an IPod Touch as a gift, and at the time I did not think I’d use it all that much. It had 8 Gigabytes of data storage, enough to hold more music than I would ever need, or so I thought. Five years later, I have now run out of memory. I use that little music device almost every day and have found that, although the music files are not as high fidelity as WAV files of a compact disk, and certainly not as good as the analog quality of an LP, the convenience of having so much music at my fingertips is wonderful. Besides, ever since that Allman Bros. concert in ’72, hi fidelity is wasted on me, because I have no high end hearing left. The other day I noticed a Boxing Day sale on the new generation of the IPod Touch, and I seized that opportunity to expand my digital music library. I bought a 16 Gig IPod Touch and have already put about 1400 songs in it. The new version of the Touch is much thinner than the one I already have, with a lot more bells and whistles. It has voice recognition software, SIRI (that annoying female computerized voice) to talk to me if I get lonely, a pretty good quality camera, and a bunch of features for communicating on the internet which I will likely never use. One thing that bothers me about so many of the new electronic gadgets is that I must download the operating manuals from the internet to learn how to use them. “Download” is like a curse word to me. It took me longer than it should have to figure out how to operate this new IPod, because Apple continually changes the ITunes software, and I do not embrace change with enthusiasm (read- I am a stupid Neanderthal).

News Years came and went up here without a lot of fanfare. Shauna and I spent it as we usually do, at home watching Kathy and Anderson exchange clever insults on CNN. My perennial favorite ushering in of the New Year is the “transvestite drop” from Key West. I will not watch Ryan Seabreeze on principle; the man vexes me. He is decidedly no Dick Clark. This year our First Night was a little different, in that there was no sparkling malt beverage, or any alcohol whatsoever with which to usher in the New Year. It is the first time in about 40 years that this has happened. My resolution for 2014 is actually two resolutions. I intend to remain on the wagon (with alcohol anyway). Perhaps I’ll become a meth addict, or start smoking crack, which seems to be the in drug of choice among the political unintelligentsia. But demon alcohol is out. Baby steps. My second resolution is to finally get into studio and record some proper song demos. I’ve been farting around with portable multi tracks for far too long. I am neither a musician nor a sound engineer, and it is time to focus on what  I do (have faith I) can do; write songs. Yesterday, as I loaded up my IPod with new musicians and singer/songwriters, many who are from around here, I was reminded that there are a lot of people out there trying to do this. Some of them are pretty good at it.  I have wanted to get some of my songs “out there” for far too long, and it is time to carp the diem. This is what I love to do, and there are plenty of starving musicians up here who can help me. Resolutions, aspirations, dreams. Never stop doing what you love, right?  

 

Maybe I’ll find the perfect partner

Maybe I’ll become a famous author

Maybe I’ll go to jail for murder

But right now I’m going to sit here,

Stupid, staring at the horizontal snow

Watching the wind blow, watching the horizontal snow.

Time for me to stop “stupid staring” and start blowing. We just got another 8” of snow. Peace out my friends.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED