The Oppenheimer Report 3/28/16

Who knew the Easter Bunny was related to Krampus?

First of all, let me wish all my Christian friends a belated Happy Easter. I used to enjoy decorating the eggs, and of course, I loved Easter egg hunts. Every year, I reprise the story about my Mom hiding thirteen hard-boiled eggs around our house in Buffalo on Easter. We only found twelve, and Mom did not remember where she hid the thirteenth. It turned out she hid it in a table lamp, which we found out several months later, after it began to smell like a decomposing animal. That was the last of our Easter egg hunts. The other day, I was checking some online news source and read a story about some guy in the Philippines who had himself nailed to a cross, and he has done this annually for the past 30 years. What the hell! I thought Easter was about bunnies and chocolate. Asked what the experience meant to him, his answer was that it hurt. No shit, Sherlock. I thought self-flagellation was a little over the top, but now there is a new benchmark for crazy Easter antics.

 

Former Toronto mayor Rob Ford died last week after an 18 month battle with cancer. Clearly, Ford was a controversial mayor, and his out of control behavior and his admissions of substance abuse made him the laughing stock of the world. Before the omnipresence of cell phones, video cameras, and YouTube, this kind of behavior was easier to conceal, but these days, public figures have to be more careful. One night on CTV News, I remember watching Ford, captured on a security camera, drunk and urinating in a public place. His life unraveled for the world to see, and it wasn’t pretty. Ford was like the car accident everyone slows down to see, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him and his family. Of course there has been plenty of internet nastiness, kicking the man after he was gone, and he did prove to be an embarrassment for the City of Toronto near the end. Still, I wonder how history will treat him. For all his faults, he wasn’t all bad, and did represent the little guy.

Someone posted a YouTube video that I watched yesterday, and it suggests that there is a conspiracy by the big drug companies to block efforts to find a cure for cancer. While I take the information in the video with a grain of salt, it got me thinking. It is interesting that so much money is pumped into cancer research with so little to show for it. Yes, there are success stories but it seems as if the incidence of cancer is on the rise. Whether it is increased microwave transmissions, or the preponderance of unhealthful food we eat, or the water we drink; something is feeding this disease. If the business of treating cancer with radiation and chemicals is worth trillions, what if someone came up with a cheap and effective cure for cancer? Would drug companies embrace it, even if they stood to lose trillions of dollars in profit? Every day, I hear or read some new theory about a diet or holistic remedy that may be more effective in the treatment of certain kinds of cancer. One remedy, which suggests that changing the PH balance in the body is effective, calls for sufferers to swallow two tablespoons of lemon juice, mixed with baking soda. This concoction may kill cancer cells while leaving healthy cells in tact. If natural remedies might work, why is there NOT more research targeting these potentially life-saving therapies? In the video, it was suggested that a promising new, low cost drug developed in Canada was not approved for testing, because there was no profit to be made from its distribution. If it turns out that any of this is true, it is pretty disturbing news. First, I learn that I cannot trust my leaders, which was a huge shock to me, and now the medical community is suspect. Next thing you know, I won’t be able to trust reality television!

 

Isis claimed responsibility for the suicide bombing attacks in Brussels last week, as well as an attack at a soccer match in Iraq. A branch of the Taliban is claiming responsibility for the Easter Sunday attack in Pakistan. It’s a strange world we live in, and between the media and the religious fanatics, and all the nutballs running for President, I’m getting a little stressed out. I penned a new song a few weeks ago, entitled One to Ten and the following is one verse and the chorus from that song:

 

One To Ten

Jihadi John in the desert

About to take his pick

Dress those boys up like janitors

Send 'em to the River Styx

 

Cho:

I don’t know I can’t say

I wonder to which God does this man pray

And I can’t tell my enemies from friends

I can’t seem to calm down counting from one to ten.

 

I’ve got to stop watching “the news”.

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/21/16

 

The girls out for a walk

To my twelve loyal readers, welcome to the first full day of spring, 2016! It’s hard to believe that someone who is retired finds himself pressed for time, but such has been the case of late. Recent reports have been rushed and not well written, and for this I apologize. For the next couple of months I’ll be adding in the occasional older report, written during the past 24 years. I need a breather to regroup, and I’ll wager that at least half of those twelve loyal readers have not read these earlier reports. I assure you that more thought went into them than I am presently capable of mustering. First up is an entry from January 2002 …

 

1/14/02 - In order to facilitate Shauna’s recovery from recent surgery, I’ve developed my own special physical therapy program for her: I bought a greatest hits collection of funk music. There’s nothing like funk music to get the body shakin’ and ambulatin.’

 

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I like funk so much, but I have always been fond of funk. Lately, with the overabundance of music I absolutely can’t stand, funk music and other music from the 60's, 70's, and 80's has become infinitely more enjoyable to me. As a brief aside, the famous king of punk funk, Rick James, lived just down the street from my parents in Buffalo, before he had his minor brush with the law and went to prison. His version of “Dance Wit Me,” also recorded by Rufus, is a particular favorite of mine. Anyhow, the other day, I was trolling through the cutout bins at the Sunrise Records store near our apartment, and I found a funk collection that included one of MY all time favorites, “Play that Funky Music (white boy)” by Wild Cherry. Shauna is a great dancer, and I knew that if I played this particular cut for her, she wouldn’t be able to help but kick up her heels. Even the rhythm-challenged among you would be forced into some sort of uncontrollable movement if you heard that song.  Other hits in the compilation include “Jungle Boogie” by Kool & the Gang (formerly known as The Jazziacs), “Cut the Cake” by AWB (Average White Band), and who could forget The Brothers Johnson singing, “Get the Funk Out Ma Face?” This is solid gold funk, and though it does not include such funk mainstays as “Brick House” by the Commodores, and anything by Tower of Power , this is a pretty good anthology for the funk-deprived. You “body Nazis” can keep your workout videos; give me a good collection of funk songs any day to burn off MY calories.

 

Biker bad boys The Hell’s Angels were in Toronto last week having a reunion. In their infinite wisdom, the Toronto Police suggested that local restaurants and bars refuse to serve these bikers if they were wearing their biker colors. If a restaurant has a dress code in place, that restaurant has the right to refuse a customer who is unsuitably dressed. Still, four hundred Angels are expected in town for this reunion, and that could be a lot of beer for those willing to serve these notorious party animals. Let the proprietors decide who is welcome and who isn’t. The police wanted bar and restaurant owners to post signs outside their establishments, informing the bikers they were not welcome if they didn’t conform to some ambiguous and arbitrary dress code. Not all bikers are unruly criminals, and conversely, not all well-dressed businessmen are gentlemen. Jerks are jerks, and if a patron gets out of control, kick him or her out, or call the police. Mayor Mel Lastman got into trouble for his perceived support of the biker reunion, thus prompting the expression “Mel’s Angels.”

 

Ford Motor Company has announced it will lay off about 30,000 workers, and that includes 1,500 workers at the Oakville plant near Toronto.  A Senate subcommittee has subpoenaed 51 Enron employees to try and determine if the largest bankruptcy in American history involved fraud. $60 Billion in shareholder value was wiped out with this failure, and that ain’t small potatoes. Was George Dubya a front man for the big money boys?  I’m sure the Democrats will say so. Sen. Joe Lieberman is one of the guys investigating any wrongdoing, which I find somewhat amusing. If he were a vindictive man, he might try and pin this on George, but all indications are that he isn’t that kind of guy.  Enron chairman Ken Lay was a big Bush supporter, and there have been rumblings that Bush may have given Enron special treatment. A bunch of al-Qaeda prisoners are being flown from Afghanistan to the U.S. Naval base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I find it hard to believe there is a debate in America over whether their treatment has been too harsh. Good-bye to Dave Thomas, lovable founder of Wendy’s Hamburgers. I thought for sure the guy would die of a heart attack, but it was liver cancer that did him in. He made his hamburgers square in shape because Wendy’s doesn’t cut corners. Ethan Zohn won the million bucks on Survivor Africa, and if you wonder why I’m reporting such inane trivia, well I have one thing to say to you ...

get the funk out ma face.            - Jamie Oppenheimer

 

 

 

 

The Oppenheimer Report 3/14/16

Last night on the news, I watched coverage of the Toronto St. Patrick’s Day parade, with all the attendees bedecked in Irish green. When I still lived in Buffalo, I usually attended the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade in downtown Buffalo. Buffalo is a city with a healthy Irish population, and that parade was a green light to party. I loved to watch all the goofy costumes and the higher than average level of stupidity and inebriation which surrounded St. Patty’s day. Buffalo is, or at least was when I lived there, a serious party town. Bars are plentiful, and many are open until 3 a.m. or 4 a.m. For me, that parade was usually viewed hung over. Sunday being a “school day”, I typically did my heavy drinking the night before. Things have changed, and these days, the only way I am apprised of an upcoming holiday is by the flood of cheap holiday-related debris lining the dollar store aisles. Fake blood and a sea of orange and black portend the coming of Halloween, crappy Valentine candy and campy pink and red trinkets herald Valentine’s Day, and aisles of Chinese-made green cardboard top hats and sparkly green crap mark St. Patrick’s Day. The strange part about St. Patrick’s Day is that it is not a big deal in Ireland. When I spent a semester in Ireland back in the late 70s, there was a small parade in Dublin, but none of the fanfare that surrounds the holiday in North America. My most memorable St. Patty’s Day experience took place in a Buffalo bar shortly after the parade was over. We were in the back of the bar, which was packed to well beyond its limit, when there was some kind of commotion that prompted people to panic and try to escape. There was a lot of pushing and shoving and people were freaking out all around me. Not one to be claustrophobic, I got a little nervous when I could not breathe, and after what seemed like an eternity, we managed to escape the sardine tin. I was genuinely frightened by the experience and vowed never again to put myself in a similar situation.

 

Last Thursday night was a busy one for me. Our singer/songwriter friend Bobby Cameron was in Toronto on business and then he drove up to visit us for the weekend. I was scheduled to perform in the “Live Drive” at Hunters Bay Radio 88.7 FM, and Bobby was gracious enough to accompany me. There were technical issues with the sound, and live radio is always hit or miss, but I think we did OK. I can put another notch on my belt for a live performance that terrified me. I performed the song I recently wrote for James Carroll, and several other new songs I’ve penned. The best part of the weekend was Saturday night, when, after a marathon writing session, Shauna, Bobby, and I finished a song we wrote entitled “Where You Live, Where You Die.” Inexperienced as I am at collaboration, I see how this would be hard to do with the wrong people. I’ve listened to and played with Bobby for over 20 years now, and we have a mutual respect as songwriters. Shauna, as well, is a talented musician and writer. Yes, there were heated debates about economy of words, articles, and adjectives to be stricken from the lyrics, phrasing, etc., and long discussions ensued about the meaning of certain words. Collaboration is not easy! All in all, Bobby and I, and later Shauna, probably put in about ten hours of work to finish the song. Well into the wee hours of Sunday morning, the song was completed. There is nothing quite as satisfying as the exhilaration after finishing something creative as a team. I may be too close to the song right now, but I feel it is a good song. Bobby feels strongly enough about it to include it on his next album.

In U.S. politics, anti-Trump protesters clashed with Trump supporters at a rally in Illinois and the conflict turned violent. I’m no Trump fan, but it is telling that this outsider has so derailed the Republicans party. The heat is on and the next four or five state primaries will determine if the unimaginable will happen. That’s democracy. The people have spoken, and like it or not, they will reap what they sow. As the possum said (and I’m really dating myself by quoting Pogo) “We have seen the enemy and he is us!”

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/7/16

 

Last weekend, the snowmobiles were out in force, and there are several trails that feed into the road we’re on, so it is not uncommon the see a line of sledders zapping down our road along the side. This winter may have been a little rough on the sleds, because there were a lot of patchy spots with all the warm weather. The other day, I noticed a lot of tracks along the periphery of our little lake, but not many tracks going directly across. This year, I have not ventured out onto the lake in the ATV because I do not trust the ice. Today, everything is warming up considerably and one might be inclined to think spring is in the air. Not so fast.

Last Wednesday, I was scheduled to take my friend James to his chemotherapy session in Huntsville, but we had more snow Tuesday night than I’d anticipated. I figured I could get out of our driveway – my MDX will go through fairly deep snow – but I had not anticipated the thick layer of ice underneath the snow. With all the freezing and thawing, the base of our driveway is a sheet of ice. I got to within 50 yards of the top, where it gets steeper, when I lost traction and slipped to the side. I grabbed the shovel out of the back of the SUV and tried to dig my way out, but to no avail. I called James and told him to take a cab so he would not be late. I’d meet him at the hospital later. Then I made the long trek back to the house to grab the snow blower. A little over two hours later, I was free and clear and at the top of our driveway. Normally, our plow guy is very reliable, and we’ve never been stranded for long. It seems this winter has been feast or famine for snow, and when it comes, it comes fast. Our plow guy has the contract for one of the local Townships, so we are not his priority. In an emergency, I suppose I could blow the entire driveway, but it would take some time. My heated gloves and snowmobile pants came in very handy on Wednesday morning. Keeping warm is the trick to snow-blowing. For the most part, I don’t mind the winter. I get the blues when I don’t see the sun for a while, but generally, I don’t mind the cold all that much. Last winter was pretty tough because of the cursed polar vortex. I prefer weather somewhere in between last winter and this one. Are you listening, Mother Nature? Didn’t think so.

This is an eventful week for us, as our musician friend Bobby Cameron will be coming to visit Thursday, hopefully to stay with us through the weekend. He’s in Toronto on business and wanted to come up and visit when he’s done there. This coming Thursday night, not only will I be hosting my radio show, but from 6-7 p.m., I will also be performing a live, on-air set of my music. I’m a bit nervous, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I have written some new songs and hope to perform several of them Thursday night. One of those songs, entitled “You’re Still Here”, I wrote for James Carroll (the guy I was supposed to take to his chemo appointment). For some inexplicable reason, my song writing goes in spurts, and I have been unusually prolific of late. When experiencing a dry spell, I used to get very frustrated, but these days, I fall back on the radio show. There’s no better way to find inspiration than to research good songwriters with whom I am not familiar. In the past year, I have become a fan of John Stewart, Chris Smithers, Jon Brooks, Rob Lutes, Steve Goodman, Leroy Preston, Jason Isbell, and a dozen other excellent writers. The more I learn, the better equipped I am to write good songs.

RIP Nancy Reagan, who passed on yesterday at the ripe old age of 94. I was not a huge fan of Nancy's, and I thought her war on drugs prompted some wasteful and useless legislation. Much was made of her perhaps misguided reliance on the advice of astrologers, and I used to make fun of her a lot in this report back in the early 90s. Still, she was a strong woman and I respect her loyalty to her husband and the challenges she must have confronted when Ronnie was in the end stages of Alzheimer’s.

Join me on Thursday night 6-7 p.m. (http://www.muskokaonline.com) at Hunters Bay Radio 88.7 FM. With any luck, Bobby Cameron will be joining me on stage.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED