The Oppenheimer Report 2/23/15

Last Saturday, I drove down to Toronto to meet my buddy Bob for our semi- annual boys night out. For the last four or five summers, I have joined Bob in the Western New York Offshore Powerboat Association Poker Run. For the winter session, we usually attended the Toronto Boat Show, but every year that show has become a little less interesting. As much as I enjoy examining new boats in the winter, ones that are not covered in snow, it seems that more and more pontoon boats and fishing boats were creeping into the show. There are only so many floating living rooms I can inspect before I get bored. After waiting in long lines last year in order to board some of the bigger cabin cruisers and sailboats, we decided that this year we’d find a different winter diversion. As neither of us drinks alcohol anymore, we seek entertaining distractions that don’t involve bars. This year we decided to go to the Toronto Motorcycle Show, and it was my first motorcycle show ever.

 

Bob and I used to ride motorcycles together. He’s owned a motorcycle almost as long as I’ve known him. In keeping with his love of classics, he still owns the immaculate (1975-76?) Kawasaki KZ 900 he’s owned since it was practically new. Back then, that bike was considered one of the “superbikes”, boasting about 85HP. Jump ahead thirty years, and motorcycle technology has come a long way. These days, the bikes are all sprung with high tech mono shock suspensions, come equipped with powerful anti-locking disc brakes, and much more powerful motors. Even the smaller four cylinder bikes would probably beat Bob’s classic KZ900 off the line. I bought my first of two Yamahas, in the mid 80s,  largely because I got tired of riding on the back of Bob’s bike. I enjoyed our motorcycle adventures, and while we never made any Easy Rider trans-continental road trips, we did take some memorable day trips. During my motorcycle riding years, I put about 14,000 miles on the two bikes I owned. I only remember one minor mishap in all the years I rode (I dropped my bike at low speed once when I hit a gravel patch turning into our driveway). I haven’t been on a motorcycle in twenty years, although I am still licensed to ride one, and these days, it becomes less and less likely that I will buy anything two-wheeled that does not require me to peddle. or push. Bob is a far more experienced rider than I, but even he has slowed down a bit. Last summer, there were several stories on the news about the preponderance of serious motorcycle accidents involving senior riders in the Greater Toronto Area. Aging baby boomers, intoxicated with the illusion of freedom that motorcycles represent, buy fast, powerful bikes, often their first motorcycles, only to find out the hard way that motorcycles require much more hand eye coordination than cars. Defensive driving takes on a whole new meaning once you start driving around the city in a motorcycle. That was the deal breaker for me. When I married Shauna, and moved up to Toronto, I quickly learned it is not a place I wanted to ride a motorcycle.

 

After we walked around the show for a few hours, we decided to head over to the Ripley’s Aquarium, situated near the CN Tower. I do not recall ever having been to a big aquarium before, and I’d recommend this one to anyone visiting Toronto. It really is spectacular. Finally, we stopped and had dinner downtown, and then walked back uptown to where we were staying. Walking up Bay Street from downtown, I could not help noticing how much Toronto has changed in the past year. Almost overnight it seems as if seven or eight new high rise condo buildings have sprung up, and my apprehensions about change visited me once again. While I do not consider myself over the hill just yet, I had just spent the day with my former drinking buddy, looking at fast motorcycles neither of us had any intention of buying, and I was now walking through a city I’d lived in for over 15 years, but now hardly recognized. Am I any wiser than the thirty-something that once pegged his Yamaha Radian at 115 MPH? Perhaps, a little. Certainly I am more uncoordinated,  a little more forgetful, and definitely more cognizant of my mortality. As I watch the high rises spring up around me, seemingly as I walk up Bay Street, I wonder, am I keeping pace? Bob says we should get tee shirts printed up that read: “Ape Shit at Eighty!”

Maybe that old saying is true: "slow and steady wins the race."   

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/16/15

 

First things first – Happy Family Day, and a belated Happy Valentine’s Day to my twelve loyal readers! I treated my lovely wife Shauna to her customary gift, a package of cinnamon hearts. I usually buy my cinnamon hearts from Dollarama, and that store sells some strange Valentine’s Day gifts. I once bought red plastic handcuffs there, in the shape of hearts, lined with pink fur. Nothing says “Happy Valentine’s Day!” like bondage accessories. This year the dollar store was out of cinnamon hearts so, reluctantly, I bought Shauna’s gift at Walmart. I have noticed that cinnamon heart quality control is going downhill. Whereas they used to at least resemble little hearts, now they are just irregular little red blobs; kind of like blot clots. I buy these crappy little Valentine gifts for two reasons. Everyone knows I’m “thrifty” but I am also making my statement that Valentine’s Day is a load of hooey. I love Shauna, and she knows it. More than half my love songs (all five of them) are about her. The fact is, I do not think love is something that can or should be celebrated on one specific day, any more than Christmas should be the one day when people celebrate peace and goodwill. About ten years ago, I wrote a Valentine’s Day song for Shauna, and every year I sing it to her. I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of that song. This, year, I chose to share it with “the world” (read the twelve people who might consult my Facebook page). The other day, I recorded it for the first time, on my portable recorder, and posted it to Facebook. Take that Hallmark.

 

One of the ways I am trying to grow as an artist is to play and write as much as possible with other people. This is a relatively new practice for me. My first writing session was with local artist Doug McLean, and since then I have had sessions with several other artists as well. The other day I had my first meeting with a female artist named Gina Horswood. Originally from Australia, Gina now lives in Huntsville, and she is really talented. She certainly does not need my help, as she is an accomplished songwriter in her own right, but we gave each other notes on songs we are in the process of writing. My friend Buck was a gifted banjo player, until a stroke interfered with the dexterity of his picking hand. He’s getting that back, slowly, and we’ve played together a few times lately. The brain never ceases to amaze me with its ability to recuperate. Frankly, I don’t know who’s getting more out of these sessions, because Buck is a remarkable source of information about local musicians. We’ve been practicing one of my songs, with the hopes that he will be able to record with me by the time I get the second album done. This should not be a problem, as the first one is taking longer than expected to complete. Another local guy with whom I played the other day is an older fellow I met while volunteering at the Katrine Community Centre. Ed Brown impressed me with his gift for rhyme and, after he learned that I write songs, he began to sing a cappella versions of various songs he’d written every time I saw him. I think he’s pretty good, so the other day, I went over to his house and we recorded a few of his tunes. I record a lot of local artists on my little Zoom H4N field recorder, then I give them the digital file. I think it is helpful for singer/songwriters to hear their live performances, and I wish someone had done that for me when I was starting out. Also, this is a record for posterity. Some of these folks have never before recorded their music. Ed used to play around Toronto a lot, but life pushed him in another direction, and he is now a little out of practice. If these recording sessions help him improve, then I have succeeded. I have found with music, you get what you give.

 

The big news this week is that it’s really cold here. I think my car battery is lunch, but as much as we grumble about it here in the Almaguin Highlands (last night it was -37C), places like Boston and the Canadian Maritime provinces are getting hammered with one blizzard after another. The problem has become where to put all the snow. My friends in Sharon, Massachusetts said that the snow banks are so high now that the snow blower cannot blow over them. Now there is apparently another big storm approaching. It’s time to pull out the summer photographs. Again.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/9/15

Yesterday, I indulged myself in yet another time-sucking session on Facebook to catch up on all the amusing clips that my friends have posted. I know, I’m an idiot, but this to me is what early retirement is all about. I am always looking for amusing stuff to share on my page, and there is no shortage of amazing video footage and audio clips that people put up. The other day I watched a clip of a man with no arms playing blues guitar with his feet, better than I ever could. My favorite clip from the past week was a tongue in cheek YouTube spoof of the popular song “Say Something” by A Great Big World (Alex Preston), sung really well (but with altered lyrics) by a disgruntled Toronto Maple Leafs fan. I think “I’m giving up on you” is the key phrase here, and you can fill in the blanks. The Leafs did finally win a game Saturday night, after breaking their own record for most games lost in a row (10 or 11) … a record not challenged since 1967. Hey, they’re only about 13 points out of a playoff spot, so I still hold on to my tiny morsel of hope. They are not done yet; soon, but not yet.

 

I attended the Kearney Dogsled races on Saturday, primarily to hear my song writing pals Doug McLean and Jeff Stamp perform some of their original songs at the Kearney Community Center. While the races themselves are of little interest to me - I fear that sometimes the animals are not particularly well cared for - I have attended for the past three years. For me, the race marks one of the temporal stepping stones to Spring. First there is the “holiday season”, followed by the Burk’s Falls Winter Carnival, then of course there is Groundhog Abuse Day, and not long after, the Kearney Dogsled Races, followed by the Katrine Winter Carnival, and various and sundry winter-related equipment malfunctions. Before you know it, you’re at the end of April clawing the walls with your family and re-enacting the final hour of The Shining.

Following a Supreme Court ruling, assisted suicide may soon be legal in Canada, and I think that is a remarkable development. Euthanasia pioneer Dr. “Death” Jack Kevorkian is probably smiling in heaven. Let me weigh in on this decision from the perspective of a son and son-in-law who has now experienced the demise of three of his four parents. I was confronted with this issue twice, once directly, when my mom was in the end stages of Lewy Body Disease, and a second time, indirectly, when Shauna’s dad slowly slipped away after a crippling stroke. His stroke was on the right side of his brain, and he was left unable to swallow. His decline was slow and emotionally confusing for the entire family; probably not what he would have wanted. In both cases our decision was not to assist the demise of the patient, if only because there was no clear directive from the sufferer. As I believe the Supreme Court ruling suggests, this should not be a right denied the individual, and in some specific cases, it will clearly be the right thing to do. Of course, some in the medical community will fight this, and I understand their concerns that this “right” will be abused. Clearly this is a contentious issue. I ask: what about the rights and dignity of the terminally ill patient? Just as I don’t think religious leaders or politicians should have any say in whether or not a woman chooses to have a baby, I do not think these leaders should have the right to dictate end of life decisions. Listen carefully to the anecdotal evidence from some of the terminally ill, and perhaps you too will be inclined to offer them some control over their ends. Indeed it is a complicated issue, and it will inevitably lead to legal debates about the legality of certain health care proxies, but I applaud Canada for this brave ruling. Now let’s see if it holds up.  

 

Final notes. My apologies to all of you who are on Facebook, or my email list, and who received multiple requests to listen to my HBR “Live Drive” performance with Juan Barbosa. Shauna and I may have been a little carried away with this. It was my first live on-air performance with a professional musician, and I was so happy that Hunter’s Bay Radio recorded and posted it. I was proud of myself for doing this scary thing, and I wanted to brag a little. So my ego is swelling. I wish I could say the same for my popularity!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2-2-15

I have not used the ATV in a few weeks, and with all the cold weather, I figured I’d better go out to the shed and fire it up to charge the battery. I picked a day that was relatively mild last week – “relatively” being the operative word here - and went out to the shed to start it up. When I walked into the shed, I noticed that a bag of corn feed which we keep on hand to feed the wild turkeys had been torn, and corn was spilled on the floor. This was probably the work of one of the 23 different varieties of rodents who inhabit these premises. I cleaned up the mess and didn’t think much more about it. Then, as I turned the key to start the ATV, it fired up, but sounded like a coffee grinder. My immediate reaction was that this was some kind of catastrophic engine failure, or some broken part in the crankcase, but then I looked behind me and saw corn shooting out of the exhaust pipe. I can only assume that one of these resident rodents had made the exhaust pipe his or her food stash. Once all the corn was out and the smoke cleared, I drove the ATV into town, picked up the mail, and by the time I headed home, the problem was solved. Several years ago we had to replace a furnace motor in our house after a mouse got into one of the condenser hoses, which then caused water to back up into the furnace. If it’s not flying squirrels, it’s bats, or mice, or moles, or voles, or beavers, or rabbits, or minks, or weasels, or muskrats, or possums, or bears, or raccoons, or, well, you get the picture. As I suggested in last week’s report, you can’t fight Mother Nature. The other day I grazed a deer that ran in front of my car. It ran off into the woods, but it was another week or so before I was apprised by the local police that they were in possession the front license plate to my car. I suppose it was torn off during my deer collision. Country livin’! So far we haven’t seen any flying squirrels since we plugged up the gaps in our eaves. Thank goodness for that. I don’t enjoy killing any animals, even mice, but when they start to mess with my home and my equipment, I go medieval on their little asses.

The other day, shortly before our Live Drive performance on Hunter’s Bay Radio last Thursday, I was on Facebook writing an announcement for that show, and I noticed a post on someone else’s site which gave me pause. There was a photograph of a pile of charred corpses. Upon reading further, I learned that the photograph was allegedly of the aftermath of a recent Boco Haram attack in Baga, Nigeria, which cost the lives of two thousand victims. The gist of the post was simply that, we in the West do not hear all that much about the atrocities that occur in Third World countries. Even the genocide in Rowanda did not really come onto the U.S. media radar screen until it was already a giant massacre. The Paris attacks a few weeks ago were tragic, and I am glad that the outrage was palpable throughout the world, but 2000 African souls?! This is a 9-11 scale attack and nobody in the West even blinked. I am once again reminded how complicated and brutal are the conflicts in the darker corners of the world. I have no idea what happened in Nigeria, but I do know that our Western news is selective. The dirty little secret is that not many people want to hear about the slaughter of innocent victims in Africa. Maybe we do not feel their lives are as significant as the lives of Westerners. Wouldn’t you rather see the 24-7 coverage of the big storm that didn’t hammer NYC, or hear expert accounts by astrophysicists about why air pressure in an inflated football can be affected by the atmosphere? The horror of 9-11 is indelibly etched in every North American’s consciousness, but it is worth noting that no suffering throughout the world is any less newsworthy.  

 

It’s no secret I am a weather junkie, and when something like the recent blizzard  (I cannot believe they named it) in the Northeast hits, I am glued to the tube. My sister lives in Connecticut, but she dodged the bullet, as the storm veered east and hammered Massachusetts and points up the coast. Up here we call that “snow flurries.” In Superbowl #49 yesterday, Seattle snatched defeat from the jaws of victory when, within spitting distance of winning the game, and right after a spectacular reception which should have cinched their victory, Seahawks quarterback Wilson threw an ill-advised pass that was picked off by the New England defense. Despite all their controversy over the past week, the New England Patriots won the game 28-24. I’d  didn't really care who won and it was a good close game, but I would hate to have had money on the Seahawks in that game, and to have watched them lose the way they did. Talk about your deflated balls.   

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 1/26/15

Doesn't this pretty much say it all?

 

 Music continues to fill in the blanks during this somewhat desolate January. Last week my producer Juan Barbosa and I spent some time deciding which of the 26 songs we have so far recorded should make the cut for the first CD. That list has changed three or four times, and I think we are finally down to between twelve and fourteen keepers. The album has evolved considerably from its original form, and now Juan sings (and does just about everything else as well) on about half of the tracks. While still showing my range as a songwriter, the album has a much more R&B feel to it than it originally did. My goals have changed as well. Initially, I wanted this to be about my versatility as a songwriter, almost like a songwriter’s demo. Now, as I discover what a gifted producer and musician I have at my disposal, the album has become more of a showcase for Juan’s talents. My ambition is to have this album of songs in some way improve Juan’s exposure as an artist, because he is decidedly the most talented person with whom I have had the privilege to work. I am immodest enough to believe that my songs, combined with Juan’s skills as a musician (guitarist, bassist, and drummer, not to mention a phenomenal vocalist) have turned this album into something really interesting. I don’t know if it will “sell” in the real world, but it is notable that for two weeks in a row, one of the songs on the album, Every Day, made it to #1 on the Hunter’s Bay Radio Top 20 list, and three or four of my songs are in regular rotation. I never expected airplay, much less that kind of recognition, and I am on cloud nine. This coming Thursday night, January 29^th , Juan and I will be performing some of the songs on my new album live on air at Hunter’s Bay Radio, on a show called “Live Drive”. The show runs from 6-7pm, and if you are within 40 miles of Huntsville you can pick it up on the FM dial (88.7FM). Alternatively, if you are out of the area and have access to a computer, you can go to www.muskokaonline.com, click on “Listen Live”, and that should get you to the live broadcast. While I am nervous about performing live on the air for an entire hour, this is an excellent opportunity to reach a wider audience (Juan has a substantial following in this area), and I am eternally grateful to Hunter’s Bay Radio for the air time. I do not think I have ever before experienced a radio station which is so supportive of local artists. Music is the great unifier – so unify on January 29^{th -} even if it to laugh at my mistakes live on air. Enough about me, what do YOU think of me?

 

Last week, the story that eclipsed ISIS, and the ever spreading blight of crazy religious nut jobs in the Middle East, was the story of “Inflategate” - the revelation that, in their decisive 43-22 defeat over the Indianapolis Colts last week, the New England Patriots may have given themselves an unfair advantage by using under-inflated footballs. Oh my. Of course, the real question on everybody’s minds (besides “why are we even talking about this??”) is: “Was this in any way the deciding factor in the game?” Cheating in the NFL, what a surprise. What’s next, steroid abuse in pro baseball? I am shocked that this kind of thing happens. I mean, those professional athletes are role models for heaven’s sake. I don’t know who to trust anymore.

 

Elsewhere in the news … Salmon bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, King of Saudi Arabia, passed on last week on at the age of 90. In the ever shifting sands of the Middle East, this may not bode well for future diplomatic relations with the United States. Apparently, King Abdullah was, by Saudi standards, progressive. Coupled with recent developments in Yemen and the relentless march of violent recidivist Muslim whackos, this news leaves me apprehensive. Apparently, there is a potentially destructive storm descending upon the north east coast of the U.S., with blizzard warnings and record amounts of snow predicted in the hardest hit areas. I am reminded of the recent 6’ snow dump in Lancaster, New York, near Buffalo, and of the devastation from that crippling ice storm blew through Toronto during the 2013 holiday season. Shauna’s mom was without power for over a week, and after the storm had passed, the cleanup took months. We take our electricity for granted, until we are deprived of it for a long period of time. We’ll see if the Chicken Littles are correct about this latest storm today. Whether all this severe weather is the result of the man-made depletion of the ozone layer, caused by the ever more industrialized world we live in, or because catastrophic weather is cyclical, there seems to be little doubt that we’re in for some meteorological ass kicking in our future. What saddens me is that, instead of adapting to what is likely an inevitable and unstoppable change, we are still led to believe we can alter the course of Mother Nature by driving Priuses. It might be more pro-active to rethink shoreline development, warning systems for over-populated danger zones, new energy-saving building products, technology to harness the ocean’s hydroelectric potential, localized economies, and yes, of course less dependence on oil. But let’s get real folks, there is no quick fix for the weather.  

 

January 29^th 6-7 PM live on Hunter’s Bay Radio … tune in if you want and hear me play some of my songs.    

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

My Medieval Feast Experience (Oldy but Goodie - circa 1999)

I watched a commercial for one of those Medieval Feast places the other night, and by golly  I want to go. For those of you who don’t live in a large metropolitan area, with a glut of entertainment options,  you probably  don’t even know what a medieval feast place  IS. This is basically a fun-filled evening for which you pay an all-inclusive admission fee to sit in an auditorium, eat meat with your hands, and watch men on horseback  try to spear each other in a mock jousting match.  Occasionally, there is the odd hand-to-hand skirmish and  maces and balls and chains are called for, but mostly it’s just skewering. Picture yourself tearing apart an unmanageable slab of cheap, underdone cow meat (heaven knows from what part of the cow), as  you watch  chainmail-clad horsemen try to impale each other with giant pool cues. If that isn’t enough excitement, their galloping horses fling large gobs of mud and saliva  up into your food as they race by. You have a front row seat for all the feudal carnage and savagery you can stomach.  Relive the good old days  for  one,  very reasonable,  all- inclusive admission charge. Fun per dollar, I don’t know how you can do better than this.

 

Call me a testosterone-choked moron, but I love crap like this. It’s not that violence turns me on,  it’s more that this is simply such a ludicrous concept. It makes about as much sense as watching the Foot Surgery Channel on TV  as you sit down to your spaghetti dinner.

 

I am reminded of a funny experience I had a long time ago,  when I spent a  semester studying abroad in Dublin, Ireland.  I and my classmates were taken on a field trip, as part of our cultural experience, and one of our stops was dinner at a place called Bunratty Castle.  It was a genuine, ancient stone castle, dating back to Celtic times, which had been transformed into a rather bizarre restaurant. First, we were served mead wine by real wenches, and then, once sufficiently lubricated, we were led into a large banquet hall for a good old-fashioned throw-the-bones-over-your-shoulder medieval feast. They BRAGGED about this. The feastitorium seated about two or three hundred, but on the night we were there it was only about half full. The tables were long, seating between forty to fifty diners, and each place setting consisted of a serrated knife and a  plate, but no other utensils.  For the tour group of geriatric bible thumpers from Iowa, this must have seemed quite a primitive feast, but to my study  group,  made up in  large part by scoundrels of questionable  Irish decent, armed with their somewhat muddled interpretation of what was proper medieval decorum, this was a green light to party.

 

After several more  tankards of mead wine,  we realized that the folks at the next table were a rugby team visiting from England, and that they too were getting into the spirit of things. Once our slabs of animal flesh had been served, it wasn’t long before the mother of all food fights broke out.  It was instant mayhem, the likes of which I doubt the managers of Bunratty Castle had ever anticipated or even imagined.

 

Entertainment during our feast was supposed to be a quartet of musicians playing music from the period, and they were  all dressed in those balloon  pants and  those funny hats with big feathers.  I’m sure they felt silly enough dressed like that, but no words can describe how silly they must have felt fending off  projectiles of beef  with their lutes and drums. Amidst the chaos - and let there be no mistake, this was CHAOS, there sat the Iowans, calmly eating their meals with as much dignity as they could muster, (remember they have  only knives with which to eat), ducking occasionally to miss the odd incoming roll or slab of meat. 

 

Needless to say, we, the School of Irish Studies and the rugby team, were summarily escorted out of Bunratty Castle before we could finish our medieval desserts, but not before leaving our indelible mark on the patience of these tourist trap imposters. Covered with food, we were bussed back to our hotel where we spent the next four hours drinking even more and embellishing what was already a slam dunk in the “memorable experience” department. By the way, I grudgingly admit that the rugby guys won the food fight.

Now, whenever I see an ad for one of these Joust-O-Rama places, it triggers fond memories of that Bacchanalian  orgy  in which I was so blessed to have participated.

                           

As I  approach that stage in my life  to which I loathingly refer as “approaching respectability” ... that point where I would never in a million years dream of behaving with such a careless lack of decorum,  I look back on my Bunratty adventure as one of the high points in my Irish  experience.  Sometimes, while eating dinner with my wife at a fine restaurant, I’ll toss an olive at her, just for old time’s sake . In response, she  will look at me as if to say “I married a single cell organism” ....  or, worse yet, she’ll simply ignore my token nostalgic gesture. That hurts. In my mind there can’t be enough of these medieval feast places to satisfy the base needs of men all over the world.  It’s in our nature to be this way, and all this rubbish about the rules of civilized behavior is totalitarian hogwash, foisted upon us by prudes like Emily Post and Miss Manners.   

 

Oh, to be medieval again! Honey, do you know where I put my good feather?  It’s time to feast!

 

                  - Jamie Oppenheimer

The Oppenheimer Report 1/12/15

Last Wednesday night marked the ninetieth birthday of Shauna’s mom, and we drove down to Toronto to take her out for a celebratory dinner. When Dad Taylor was still alive, it was a tradition for all of us to get together Sunday nights and eat Chinese food. Sometimes we ordered take-out and assembled at the Taylor home in North York, and sometimes we went out to a Chinese all-you-can-eat buffet. Dad Taylor loved those buffets because of the enormous selection. That man loved his food. For nostalgia’s sake, Mom Taylor wanted to celebrate her momentous birthday at one of these restaurants. What Ethel did not know was that for the past week, Shauna had been furiously arranging a surprise party at the chosen restaurant. We had 26 guests scheduled to attend the Wednesday night celebration, and the logistics were tricky. Everything was finally set, but as poet Robert Burns once wrote (and I paraphrase): “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” First, we had the weather with which to contend, and the drive down from Katrine was through a raging blizzard. As we crawled down Highway 11 at a snail’s pace, Shauna kept getting text messages from various guests who, at the last minute, had to cancel. The flu was the biggest culprit, followed by the bad weather. By the night of the party, we were down to a discouraging 50% of our original guest list. We arrived in Toronto in time to pick up Ethel in North York, but a last minute phone call from a birthday well-wisher set us back about twenty minutes. Then, the final straw was that I overshot the restaurant, by 4 kilometers. It was a comedy of errors, and Shauna and her very spiritual mother think it was her late brother and dad messing with us. We arrived very late, but not too late to pull off the surprise and have a celebratory dinner. My thanks to our guests who waited for us so patiently. Shauna wrote one of her clever birthday poems and recited it at the table, after which I performed a song I’d composed the day before (my first gig at a Chinese restaurant!). Cards and gifts were presented, and I think Ethel appreciated the celebration. Now that she is on Facebook, she can relive the experience in pictures. Someone took a photo of her surprised look when she first arrived, and it was pretty funny. I have just enough respect for her not to repost it.

 

So much sadness in Paris last week as terrorist gunmen attacked the office of satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo, gunning down and killing 12 people execution style. Then, there was another hostage situation in East Paris at a kosher market, resulting in several hostage fatalities. Coupled with recent attacks in Australia, England, and Canada, this is very discouraging news for the world. It appears that the next world war is going to be a religious war fought gangland style in the streets. Violence used as a threat to free speech is, in and of itself, a stain on humanity, but these acts of terrorism cannot be avenged through violence. I, like so many of you, would like to make the misguided zealots who kill that way burn in hell for their evil, murderous ways, but I must remember that this is a war of ideologies. Unless we can figure out a way to marginalize this insanebehavior, and expose it for the misguided hatred it is, we will not win. I fear almost as much for the overwhelmingly peaceful Muslim community as I do for the Jews who have throughout history have been the victims of this kind of violence. The big question remains; how do we win back the hearts and minds of the growing legions of the alienated? We want to combat radical ideologies by rendering them invalid. There are reasons why this cancer is growing, and the line between good and evil is becoming more and more blurred. People need hope to give up desperate acts.

 

While I am encouraged by the 3 Million protesters who took to the streets to stand in defiance against this evil, and by the moving speeches presented at The Grande Synagogue in Paris Sunday, I think we need to take a long hard look at what makes people become radicalized. Follow the money, in Saudi Arabia, in Qatar, in Yemen, in Iran. Find the monsters who propagate this evil behavior, expose them, and vilify them in the public eye. The people carrying out these attacks are merely foot soldiers. I suspect that if the intelligence communities throughout the world cooperated and better shared their information, it would become apparent wherein lies the root of this problem.

My big fear is that the truth will be a Pandora’s box. Marches and speeches are a good start, because they represent a visible opposition to this insanity. As I said in a previous report, what I need to do is become more informed. By informed, I do not mean by the media, I mean by people who may be able to point me in the direction of a solution. I am about to read Eric Hoffer’s book The True Believer, because I hope it will shed some light on the causes of this ongoing madness in our society. Why does history continue to repeat itself? We may be at a turning point in the future of civilization, and I for one want to help tip the scales in the direction of love. I am a Jew, and I am an American, but for the sake of argument, I am a Frenchman, I am a Muslim: I am everyman.  I still believe the power of love and understanding can blot out the venom of hatred and ignorance.

 

“When I turn on the TV

 I see Afghanistan

 I see the loss of innocence

 I see the cruelty of man,

 

And I ask myself: How can we begin to make this better?”

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Smallest Coffins (first draft)

 

 

 

This was the lyric I scribbled down after hearing the news about the slaughter of school children in Pakistan a few weeks ago. It was triggered by the title phrase, which I heard spoken on the news the night it was reported. My rage and indignation builds with every stupid, misguided "statement" those fundamentalist zealots make. Perhaps one of my song writer friends out there can fashion this into a better song. After the Paris attacks, it seems appropriate to post it now:   

 

 

 

 



The Smallest Coffins

 

 

 

 I’ve seen unthinkable things

 

That haunt my thoughts, haunt my dreams

 

Brought to you nightly by talking heads on TV

 

When did religion turn from sublime to obscene?

 

 

 

Cho:

 

 

 

Little minds just trying to grow

 

Slaughtered in a school room just for show

 

I hope they haunt their killers these little ghosts

 

They say the smallest coffins weigh the most

 

 

 

 What do we make of religious travesty

 

Ignorant zealots practicing heresy

 

Repeating lessons unlearned from history

 

Repeating man’s penchant for atrocity

 

 

 

 Who are these monsters who don’t answer to God?

 

And when did murder become the creed of the flock?

 

What evil among us causes our love to be blocked

 

What door do they guard so well it cannot be unlocked?

 

 

 

 What about the rest of us who sit on the fence?

 

What is our  excuse what is our defence?

 

How can the rest of us let this go on?

 

Without the sword how can such a thing be stopped?

 

 

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer 12/20/14

 

The Oppenheimer Report 1/5/15

First of all HAPPY NEW YEAR to my twelve loyal readers! On New Year’s Eve, I did make it down to East Side Mario’s to see Scott Gilson, who opened for Juan Barbosa, Jeff Stamp and the boys. I almost didn’t go, because there were fierce snow squalls all day, and Shauna was not feeling well enough to go out. Still, I wanted to be in the audience, and I decided to drive down for a few hours, then make it home in time to watch the “transvestite drop” from Key West, Florida with Shauna. By the time I was halfway to Huntsville, I began to rethink my impulsive decision. The roads were completely snow-covered, and there were whiteout conditions. I was certainly thankful to be in a large, all-wheel drive vehicle, equipped with ice-grabbing Blizzak snow tires.
 

As I begin writing this report on New Year’s Day, I am listening to the Hunter’s Bay Radio’s Top 25 countdown of the best local artists of the year. Huntsville’s own Big East had the #1 song, my friend Jeff Stamp had three songs in the countdown, and made it to #2 for Hers was Gold, an ode to his late wife, Doug Mclean’s new song Sapphire was #3, and Sean Cotton was #4 for Broke in Muskoka. All great writers and performers, and I feel honored to be among them. To that list I add Gina Horswood, Tobin Spring and Stan Tait - writers I have yet to meet -  Jamie Clarke, Bronwyn Boyer, Christine Heron, Karen May (recently lauded for a bluegrass song she wrote while with the band Honeygrass, which I understand charted nationally), Mike Lopez and so many others. For me, this year was one of self-discovery and a rekindling of my love for songwriting. It began with my music-loving plumber Buck Marshall, who introduced me to Bob Gray and Peter Hall. They selflessly produce the well-attended Third Friday Coffee House in Burk’s Falls, hands down the best local live venue I’ve ever seen for musicians. There I met singer songwriter Doug McLean, and he connected me to Hunter’s Bay Radio and all the good folks over there. Over the next six months I met a dozen or more talented artists, and have had the great good fortune to play some of my original songs live on the radio. My heartfelt thanks to HBR and all the locals who dusted me off and encouraged me to throw my hat back into the ring. The music scene here in the near north of Ontario is vibrant and rich, and we have perhaps only scratched the surface of the talented local pool of musicians and songwriters. I feel as if I am in the middle of something similar to the Greenwich Village scene in the 1960’s, mixed with Seattle in the 80s. With the advent of HBR’s emergence on the FM dial, and Jeff Carter at the helm with his undying support for local music, I think this is a great place to live for anybody who loves music. Most of the past thirty years, I have been trying to achieve some recognition for my songwriting, but I was chasing the wrong dreams. For the first time in my life, I am starting to find my balance, and I can’t say it enough; I feel remarkably fortunate to have fallen into this exceptional community of music lovers. Now in the mastering stage, my first CD of original music should be out before spring, and this has been my dream for a long, long time. Thanks to all the talented locals, to HBR, and especially to Juan Barbosa – I call him “the sorcerer” - for giving me so much encouragement and for so skillfully producing my songs. My ultimate goal/dream is to have some of these artists cover my songs, and to assist them in achieving the international recognition they so richly deserve. Some of them are well along the way.

 

Of course, I made it home for the transvestite drop. No New Year’s Eve would be complete without a kiss from my wife, and several hours of pre-recorded Kathy Griffin ribbing the giggling Anderson Cooper about his Vanderbilt pedigree.  Hard for me to believe that guy is a news anchor. Forty is the new twenty. I’m not proud of myself, but I am a shameless lover of pop culture, no matter down what blind alley that leads me. Final note, seven, count ‘em SEVEN wild turkeys nesting out front in our trees this morning. That makes me smile. Any New Year’s resolutions out there?

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/29/14

I've always considered New Year’s Eve to be amateur night, and for the past twenty years I think we have walked to the one or two celebrations we have attended. I used to throw a pot luck dinner party when I lived in Buffalo, and shortly before Midnight, we’d head downtown to watch the not-so-big ball drop from the Niagara Electric building on Genesee St. I was usually stewed by this point, and there were always several designated drivers to insure our safe passage. It was almost always miserable weather, and it just seemed like a lot of trouble to go out. I could be getting wasted in the comfort of my own home, watching America’s oldest teenager MC the gig for me on television. Dick Clark was the best; much better than Ryan Seabreeze.

 

This year my friend Juan Barbosa and his band will be playing in Huntsville, and I think Shauna and I will break tradition and head down to see them play, because he always puts on a good show. I was never a huge fan of big New Year’s Eve gatherings in general, even when I was drinking, and I will always find it a little strange to attend a celebration where most of the other attendees are drinking heavily, now that I am on the wagon.  I’m getting a bit more used to it after a year and a half of sobriety. As long as the partiers have arranged for a sober driver, or a cab ride, I say have at it. Probably the strangest part about being around drunk people is they remind me of what a jackass I could be when I was under the influence.

 

I always enjoy the week preceding the New Year, because it is now when we are reminded of all the newsworthy events that took place throughout the year. A few come to mind automatically. 2014 started out cold. By the end of January, I had for the first time in my life purchased a block heater for my car. I also learned a new term: polar vortex. The crippling Christmas ice storm in Toronto left my mother-in-law without power, as well as most of the rest of the Greater Toronto Area.  The destruction from this storm was astounding. 2014 was also the year when the Toronto Mayor Rob Ford went completely off the rails, for all the world to see. After Toronto Star allegations that Ford had been videotaped smoking crack, incriminating photographs and videos surfaced of Ford publically drunk and ranting, urinating in public, consorting with lowlife criminals, and generally making a damn fool of himself.  I find it ironic that it was ultimately abdominal cancer that sidelined him from the mayoral race, not his deplorable behavior. Local (Huntsville) Olympic Slopestyle skier Dara Howell brought home the gold from the Sochi Winter Olympics, prompting the town to go wild. It was a bad year for Malaysian Airlines. First there was the jet that disappeared without a trace, presumably off the west coast of Australia, and then there was the jet shot down over Ukraine. Now, just the other day, yet another Malaysian jet has disappeared, although this latest tragedy was likely the result of bad weather. Other stories: the “Heartbleed” computer virus, unleashed by a 19 year old Canadian man, reminds us how vulnerable our sensitive information really is. The Ebola virus devastates West Africa claiming thousands so far and still out of control.  RIP, Casey Kasem, Jack Bruce, and most recently, Joe Cocker, dead at 70 of lung cancer.

 

As we usher in 2015, I can only say that 2014 flew by. I think I fulfilled my resolution for 2014, which was to stay sober and to become a better musician/ songwriter.  I finish up this year #3 on the Hunters Bay Radio Top 20 list, and I don’t suck half as badly as I did a year ago as a performer. I still have a long way to go. I resolve to be a more tolerant, loving human being in the year to come, and to assist some of the more gifted artists in my community to find their voice in some public forum. Happy New Year to my 12 loyal readers, see you in 2015!  

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12-22-14



The best part about the holidays

A few weeks ago, Shauna’s mom Ethel bit the bullet and bought herself a tablet computer with her air miles points. We honestly did not think she would embrace the internet, especially using a tablet and touch screen technology; up until now she has shown little interest in “surfing the net.” She is just about to turn ninety, and she has always said that new technology is a bit overwhelming to her. But I remember my dad became internet savvy, well into his nineties, and he took to it instantly. Intelligence knows no boundaries. He was for decades his class agent for the Cornell University Alumni News, and an avid correspondent in general. Adding the internet and email to his tools of correspondence vastly upped his game. In much the same way, Ethel has thoroughly embraced this new form of communication, in a very short period of time. The other day she even figured out how to access her supermarket coupons online. She sends messages to friends and family, and recently, she learned how to navigate Facebook. This has been an amusing ride for Shauna and me. As Ethel discovers the wonders of limitless communication, so has she discovered the pitfalls of hitting the “Send” button. The other night, Shauna noticed that Mom Taylor had posted what she thought was a personal message, but instead of posting to her own timeline had posted to George Takei’s – you know, the man who played Lt. Sulu, helmsman on the starship Enterprise, on Star Trek. She is not quite clear about the security settings available for Facebook. No one is less a Trekkie than my mother-in-law, but there she was, sending personal messages to Sulu. Somehow she must have commented to one of his posts by accident, thus sending her “personal” message out to thousands of strangers. We are still trying to figure out how George Takei became her “friend” in the first place! Who else has she friended? Charles Manson? Kim Kardashian? And what is next for my newly enlightened mother-in-law? X-Box? Weird YouTube videos?

 

Last week was a good one for bad news. A lone terrorist commandeered a coffee shop in Sydney, Australia, killing two of his hostages in the standoff, before he himself was killed. Of course there are many questions about why this man had not been incarcerated already, given his rather long history of subversive behavior. There are so many ticking bombs, how can we diffuse them all? Another story that outraged me concerned the Taliban slaughtering about 100 schoolchildren and teachers in Pakistan. Talk about Charles Manson.These demented religious fundamentalist have given evil a new face, and their “buy or die” mentality flies in the face of any decent religious doctrine.  It saddens me when I get my song ideas from these horrible stories on the news. Someone was quoted as saying “The smallest coffins weigh the most” and I found that phrase profound. It is difficult to know how such perversion of everything that is decent and good can be deemed in any way a service to G-d. Then again, look at The Crusades, or Christmas for that matter.

 

America resumes diplomatic relations with Cuba after sixty years, and many Cuban Americans are up in arms. I do not know how I feel about this. I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis, and those bombing drills in school … as if hiding under my desk was going to protect me from a nuclear bomb! I suppose it’s about time. It’s not as if America does not have relations with other oppressive regimes. While this restoration of diplomatic relations will inevitably send the message to the world that Castro won, and maybe he did, the lifting of embargos will likely benefit the beleaguered Cuban people, which is the silver lining. Surely it will improve the Cuban economy. Finally the Cubans will have Big Macs, crappy movies, and access to new American cars. Rejoice Raul, you no longer need to jury rig the old Desoto.     

 

My favorite talk show hosts are going off the air! I was both a David Letterman and a Craig Ferguson fan. I just watched Ferguson’s last show, which surprisingly featured Jay Leno as his final guest. Considering Letterman’s production company produces Ferguson’s show, that seemed an odd choice, but apparently Ferguson and Leno are buddies. For Josh Robert Thompson, the guy who was the voice behind Ferguson’s wisecracking gay robot skeleton, it might be cancellation bookings in the Poconos. That would be a shame because the guy is really funny. Final entertainment comment: About the Sony hacking scandal – now they think it was that little pimp, Make Me Ill Junior, in North Korea, and they have scuttled the Christmas release of the new blockbuster comedy The Interview, because of terrorist threats. What a wuss move! I could care less about the release, and am still working on trying to see movies released five years ago, but has anyone else noticed how often our sensitive databases are being compromised by cyber terrorism? While I do not know much about the fundamentals of hacking, it occurs to me that the horse of out of the barn, with both oars out of the water, and he didn’t look before he leapt. Too many of those anarchist guys with the “V” masks on, it makes me nervous. Time to invest in diamonds.

 

The smartest Bush running for president? Jeb will throw his hat in the ring, maybe. I am sure if he does, the big “elephant money” will all go his way. I can see the slogan now: “Vote for me, I’m not as big a train wreck as the other guys!” I can spell and I know how to pronounce N-U-C-L-E-A-R! Hillary Clinton vs. Jeb Bush, that could be an interesting race. Seriously, who would really want to lead America right now? Are there any leaders who can fix the mess we’re in? 

 

Peace and love to all my readers, Merry Festivus,  Happy whatever, with whomever!!

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/15/14

Today’s self-righteous rant concerns the trouble I ignore, but which seems to be knocking on my doorstep. I watched with sadness the coverage of people protesting the Ferguson, Mo. shooting, and more recently, the bizarre seemingly unjust acquittal of the Staten Island officer charged with killing Eric Garner by putting him in a suffocating chokehold. There seems to be a growing consensus that the police are using unnecessary force with African Americans and that this problem undermines our very system of justice. So I think about justice in a free society,  and I think about right and wrong. At what point does force fail to enforce? America, and to a lesser extent, Canada, seem to be sitting on a powder keg, at home and abroad. How do we diffuse the bomb?

 

The other night there was a news story about Omar Khadr, the young Canadian tried for treason and murder and sentenced to serve in prison at Guantanamo Bay, although he was under sixteen years old when he was apprehended. Now a young adult, going blind in a Canadian prison, Khadr claims he was railroaded, and his lawyer says that he did not get a fair trial. Khadr, he argues, was a child soldier, forced under duress to do the crimes for which he was accused, and it is the adults who directed him in his crimes that should be held accountable. Khadr confessed to killing an American soldier and to assisting in terrorists activities (bomb making), so there is little chance in a post 9-11 world that he will ever be exonerated. After years of reported abuse in Guantanamo, he was recently sent back to Canada to finish out his sentence. When I read his story, it became a little clearer to me how a young Muslim becomes a radical. I can look at these people and say that they (all Muslims) are the enemy; it is the simple solution to have an us-or-them mentality, especially when we are force fed outrageous images of Western hostages, brutally beheaded by Islamic radicals. But not all Muslims are fanatical, violent monsters. Most are peace-loving, good people, just like you and I. It does humanity and injustice to demonize the second largest and by some accounts fastest growing religion in the world.

 

I just watched an interesting video entitled The Islamic State, which I found on the International Herald Tribune website. It is attributed to a filmmaker and journalist named Medyan Daireh, who for three weeks was embedded with Islamic State rebels in Syria, and who covered the story for an organization called Vice News. First of all I cannot believe that this man was allowed to document what he saw and whom he interviewed without being killed, but he did, and the footage is a sobering look inside the foul underbelly of the Middle East. I do not know how accurate the information was, but I did find the footage alarming. While I always knew that the Muslim extremists hate the infidels, and want us all dead, this documentary seems to suggest that their poisoned ideology is growing and more widespread threat than I had imagined. What becomes evident is that these fanatics control a good part of Syria and now Iraq, and seem to be closing in on other parts of the Middle East as well. With the recent disturbing one-man attacks in Canada and the United States, I fear it is only a matter of time until some of these religious nut balls succeed in their diabolical mission to carry off some new genocide in North America. Terrorism is ultimately indefensible when the terrorists are perfectly willing to sacrifice their own lives. What happens to the rules of engagement when one side completely abandons them? While I sit here frustrated because my Blackberry will not communicate with my laptop properly, twelve year olds are learning how to shoot automatic weapons, and being indoctrinated with the hatred of an ever growing poisoned theocracy. Did we foment this hatred by backing monsters like Assad and Hussein, or were these religious wars bound to erupt? Do we justify torture now because we are trying to catch up with a new kind of enemy? We cannot fight this enemy with bullets and drones; I think it is clear that will simply alienate the innocent and mobilize the enemy.

 

Here is what I see, at least in myself. I see I don’t know who is right or wrong; I used to think I did. Especially where religious ideology is concerned, people are still hated for their chosen beliefs in G-d, and this perplexes and astounds me. I also see the growing gap between the haves and the have-nots.  I’m a have, at least for now, and as much as I yammer on about my thankfulness, I am acutely aware that some of my good fortune is unearned. Every time I hear about a soldier taking his or her own life, and about the hopelessness that so many vets feel due to PTS, or about an African American man shot and killed for no good reason, I get a glimpse of how out of touch I am becoming with the world. I am numbed by the news, and no matter what the spin, the facts are clear to me. Ignorance and fear are the enemies, not Muslims, Jews, Blacks, or the police. Ignorance and fear are growing every day, ironically fueled by today’s increased “information.” They cannot be fought with force, only with education.

I am as ignorant and afraid as the next man, but while it is hard for me to face my failures as a human being, I have not given up on love. As we approach the upcoming holiday, which used to stand for peace and goodwill , but which has fallen so far off the tracks it’s ludicrous, I ask only this, of myself, and of my friends. Try to make an effort to understand what you do not understand,- the other side - be it another culture, or religion, or race. Love is not dead, but it is fighting for its life. I’ll try harder if you will.

 

“And time just seems to swirl up like the leaves in a blow/ So much spinning out of my control.

And I want to solve the problems of this oh so troubled world/ But I can’t even seem to solve my own …”

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/8/14

The Yusuf Cat Stevens concert proved to be everything I’d hoped it would be. Thank you to my lovely wife Shauna for that wonderful birthday gift! As I mentioned in last week’s report, this concert involved substantially more security than most others I have attended. We arrived at 6:15PM for an 8PM concert and the line was already half a mile down Yonge Street. A friend of ours was standing in line with us, and her significant other was late. He is an actor and had a scene in the TV series The Good Witch. The shoot was 4 hours behind schedule, and he had to come from somewhere far out on the west end, which meant that, by the time we reached the front entrance of Massey Hall, he had not yet arrived. According to the strict rules of admission, she was required to enter with him or he would not be allowed to attend. Once in the venue, no one was allowed to leave (tough luck for the smokers!). I don’t know how she pulled it off, but she did eventually get him in when he arrived, and he only missed two songs. Perhaps the security guys took pity on her. The concert was delayed by over an hour because of the tight security. It became “The Peace Train a Little Late Tour.”

Anybody can go on Cat’s Facebook page and see the set list for the show, and of course there are pictures of his performance all over the internet. His voice is still as distinctive as ever. He played a lot of the old favorites from Tea for the Tillerman, and Teaser and the Firecat, and he played a lot of songs from his new album, Tell ‘em I’m Gone as well. That album is a bit of a departure from the Stevens music I know, and it has a bluesy edge to it. As I said in the last report, I did not go to this concert with any preconceptions about his politics or his religion, and he did not really talk about his beliefs with the audience. He did make some cryptic references to the bad press he has battled for much of his career. Of course there were the usual jerks in the audience that jeered “Play something we know!” which must drive an artist nuts. I think Cat did a great job of entertaining us, and even his several covers were unique. When he played Father and Son, I admit it, I had tears in my eyes. Of late I’ve read a bit about how he is perceived in the public eye, and it makes me wonder if I could ever tolerate being a celebrity. A lot of people are saying nasty things about him, and especially now, when Islam is being tainted by the actions of a small radical minority, he is perceived by some as a radical Muslim. Back in the late 80’s he made some comment about the fatwa imposed on author Salmon Rushdie, and I think it was blown way out of proportion. I am wary of any religious fundamentalism, especially when it spawns violent zealots, but I have never had the impression Stevens was like that. In fact I think he has moved more to the center than he used to be, specifically because of the onerous restrictions of religious fundamentalism.

 

Last Friday, Shauna and I dropped in to Hunter’s Bay Radio for a visit and to pick up five copies of “The Gift”, the new compilation CD of local artists. Of course, we’ve listened to the disc several times through now and I for one am impressed. Many of the 14 holiday songs are strong, original tunes, and while I did not submit a track for this year’s CD, I feel honored to be a part of the musical community that produced such good work. Ten dollars from the sale of each CD will go to area food banks, and it is being sold at many local establishments from Huntsville down to Gravenhurst. Ranging from bright and cheery to quite dark, some of the songs really moved me, and I am going to send copies to some of my musical friends and family. Next year, I want to write a song about Krampus, the Christmas monster who eats naughty children, thus making Santa’s job a little easier. I’m not making this up; Google Krampus if you don’t believe me (or refer to The Oppenheimer Report 12/19/11 in the archives of this blog)! If you can, buy this CD, or ask me to send you a copy (a deal at $15, and I’ll even throw in the shipping), it really is good. The starting gun for Christmas has long since been fired and, as we brace ourselves for the onslaught of forced over-eating and drinking, fist fights in shopping mall parking lots, and nonstop television advertising depicting Norelco shaver-riding Santas and Scrooge lusting after wireless headphones, I wish you all patience, peace, and balance in your lives. I can be found holed up in front of my television set, watching  It’s a Wonderful Life over and over again, crying like a little girl ... Zuzus petals!!!! Don’t get me started on that movie.

 
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED