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See Me, Feel Me

June 7th, 2018 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for woodstock the field

 

I believe in miracles. Not big ones (although those are good too), just little tiny ones. You know, the ones that seem to crop up when you need them the most. Then after it’s done, you sit back and say………Did that just happen?

After suffering a disappointment early yesterday morning, I suggested that Michael and I take a drive to Bethel Woods just 45 minutes away. The fresh air and nostalgia would do us both good. Michael readily agreed and I thought I’d take a quick peek at the website to see what events might be of interest in the upcoming days, weeks and maybe purchase some tickets. For those of you too young to know, Bethel Woods was the site of the Woodstock festival in 1969 and has since been transformed into a beautiful museum/concert venue.

Roger Daltrey immediately popped up for this coming Friday. It was already Wednesday. Would there be any decent seats available?

Do you wanna go, I asked Michael.

I don’t know. What’s he playing? New stuff? If it’s new stuff, then no.

I searched but couldn’t find a setlist at first, then after scrolling awhile, there were articles in reference to his upcoming Tommy tour. Perfect!

I thought I was on the Bethel Center for the Arts website but somehow ended up with a third party ticket vendor, not immediately realizing it.  After purchasing the tickets on-line, I needed a physical ticket to gain admittance but didn’t have the capability of printing them. So, I called them (in a slight panic) and was told they’d sent an email saying the purchase had been canceled. Why? There was some confusion they couldn’t explain, would I like to try again? Heck, no, that was why I was calling in the first place. What a stroke of luck. Sort of.

As it was later in the afternoon, I asked Michael did he still want to go to Bethel and maybe be lucky enough to get Daltrey tickets. Even if we couldn’t, it would still be fun to go there. Once again, he agreed.

At the box office, there were just 2 tickets left in the prime seating area for a reasonable price. It was even about $75.00 cheaper than the comparable tickets purchased earlier which included other hidden charges.  Another stroke of luck!

Next, we perused the somewhat pricey gift shop and bought a cool baseball cap for Michael with (what else?) a peace sign emblazoned on the front and Bethel Center for the Arts stitched on the side. Very nice. That done, we slipped out the back doors into the still glorious afternoon sun to take a look at “the field”. You know, THE FIELD. The one and only historical landmark where it all took place. Rock and Roll Heaven. All the hippie dippy stuff. Peace. Love. No rain. Mud.

The road to the field was beautifully landscaped with twisting turning pathways, tents setting up for Friday’s event, and the sound of Daltrey’s voice wafting in the air. Nice of them to get people in the mood for the concert.

That sounds “live.”

Yeah, it does. Doesn’t it?

Our paces quickened with our pulses in the direction of the sound coming from the outdoor pavilion. We were the only two people besides those that worked there busying about. There was nothing and no one to pay us any attention.

We just kept walking. Past the No Entry sign leading to the pavilion and up a little hill with two perfectly placed picnic tables overlooking the stage with (pinch me if I’m real) Roger Daltrey rehearsing Tommy with his band and the Hudson Valley Philharmonic Orchestra. What????

We sat at one of the two perfectly placed tables, quiet as mice, pretending to be invisible. They ran one song after another, with us watching and listening intently to the odd absence of no applause after each set.

This is real, isn’t it???

We took some  video to prove that after 49 years, magic still pervades the air at Woodstock, and feeling quite certain that the audience of two were accompanied by some invisible ones as well.

Ain’t that right, Janis? Jimi?

Like I said. Miracles. Just little ones. They happen every once in awhile. Especially at Woodstock.

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The Great Le Duke de Fromage

April 23rd, 2018 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for the big cheese

Today marks the passing of a very dear friend.

 

When Michael and I first started Whadawethink, we began receiving commentary from a mysterious person by the name of Le Duke de Fromage. We delighted at his interest in our blog. So much so, that we kept writing and he kept responding. His deep and insightful remarks were often laced with subtle good humor that always elicited a chuckle. Who was this fancy French dude?

 

Time went by and still Le Duke’s comments kept coming and engaged us in a volley of charm and wit.  When at last it was revealed that Le Duke was none other than the father of a long time friend, Michael couldn’t have been more surprised or more pleased.

 

Le Duke continued to be the biggest fan of our blog, and more often than not, the only one who ever took the time to read and comment on whatever we had to say. Looking forward to hearing from him made our efforts worthwhile. In short, Whadawethink will never be the same.

 

The profound sadness we feel at the loss of his friendship is only eclipsed by the bleak realization in knowing that at the end of this blog post there will be no comment from Le Duke de Fromage, not now or ever again. And that is simply unthinkable.

 

Mr. George, if we may be so bold as to reveal your true identity, you were a voice in the dark and a light when we most needed one. Thank you for your constant friendship. In our endeavor to create a platform in which to be heard, you responded with interest and with kind good humor. You will never know how much that meant to us both.

 

I think you would have wanted us to keep writing, so no matter the blog post met with silence, we will always remember you.

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Tom Petty Heartbreak

October 4th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

TOM PETTY Concert Ticket Stub 11-19-1977 Bottom Line New York NY 11/19/77 RARE

In March of 1977, I was just 22 years old (Okay, do the math, if you must).  My friends and I regularly frequented a favorite music venue, now defunct, called The Bottom Line in NYC’s Greenwich Village. I can recall many a sleepy drive home to Queens in the wee hours through the Bowery in that white VW convertible after an exhilarating show, nary a soul in sight.

On this particular evening, we were introduced to an unknown artist by the name of Tom Petty, the opening act for a famous guy, that has seemingly slipped from memory. So I did a little digging through the archives, and lo and behold, it was none other than Mr. Roger McGuinn. Now how could this be? Forget Roger and remember somebody nobody knows? It seems Tom had made a lasting impression. But it wasn’t his music I remembered that night.

Music freaks of the ultimate kind, we always made sure to secure a good seat by being among the first to get to the doors in front of a long trailing line of attendees. It was always general admission and the club, being a small venue, ensured that no matter where you sat, you would get to see the performance all right. But we always managed to sit at a table directly in front of the stage. Luckily, that night, there were no beers yet purchased to spoil what happened next.

Well, out walks this scrawny blond guy setting up his equipment, and I remember thinking, who’s he? No one had ever heard of him before. Then suddenly, he topples the microphone stand directly on top of our table. How’s that for starters? Maybe it was opening night jitters.

I honestly don’t recall another single thing, not the music, not whether or not I liked him, not even poor old Roger McGuinn who I love and adore.

But right after that night, everybody, and I mean everyone, had heard of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. His career debuted and just took off. For whatever reason, I always remember him as the guy whose microphone stand fell on our table.

With the passing of Tom Petty, little did I realize how many wonderful songs were penned and performed by this amazing and gifted artist. What a long way we’ve come since those cherished  and rebellious days of our youth. And to know that, even now, we can choose any song, anytime we please, and be catapulted back to that long ago era.

I’m right there. Center stage. Microphone stand crashing to the table. A blip in time forever encapsulated. A moment in Tom Petty’s life that everyone, even he, forgot. All…. except me.

 

 

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Covfefelations! You’ve Done It Again!

May 31st, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for trump slapping hand to head

By now, everyone has heard of the new word created by none other than the Trumpmeister himself.  Now now, in all fairness, given his limited knowledge of the English language, the word is not only sterling and original, it’s a reflection of unwitting ingenuity. I must say, I’m really rather impressed with the complexity of the word, the sophistication and yet playfulness of it when spoken, and the sheer (stifled laughter) magnitude of its origin. The question remains, however, what in blazes does it mean???

One can only speculate on the message lost in the meandering pathways of the brain in the man so earnestly attempting to express what (?) in the wee hours of Trumpdom. But another question just as perplexing eludes…..what is its pronunciation? It is of my personal opinion, and that of the general masses, to be “cov-feh-fee”. While we ponder this, here are some conjectures on its meaning in context:

Vould you like zom cream in your covfefe? (Spoken in your best Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation.)

My hair isn’t quite covfefed today. (This making perfect sense given the state of his coif.)

I was so happy there was covfefe at my inauguration, even if there was some in my hair for a week.

My next dog will be a poodle named Covfefe. Fifi is so passe.

I covfefe I know nothing about politics or anything meaningful.

Damn! I didn’t mean to hit send. That will put a nail in my covfefe for sure!

It’s widely known that sleep deprivation alters the cogs and wheels in the clockworks of the brain. My suggestion therefore, would be to refrain from drinking covfefe before bedtime. If you do, don’t drink and tweet.

So………………whadayathink? Have anything to add to this word of substance? Do you agree with the enormous potential value of the word? Will Starbucks cash in on this? Will von Trump get any sleep tonight or will covfefe rattle around in the coffers of his cranium? Will he brand the word before or after he figures out the definition? Let’s have a go at it, shall we?

Covfefe (cov-feh-fee): a nonsense word caused by a careless mishap at the hands of a blundering fool in the wee hours of twitter world.

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The Concept of Martyrdom is A Bad One

May 26th, 2017 by Michael Tabor

Image result for suicide bombing

Jesus was a martyr but at least he didn’t take anyone down with him. His suicide (which is what it was if you believe his mission was to die for us) in my opinion makes zero sense, but hey – billions of people for centuries seem to think that his dying redeemed us from Original sin (That seductress – Eve). I, for the life of me am incapable of grasping how and why one would come to this conclusion. But, that’s another blog.

Anyway, the fact of the matter is Jesus did not kill anyone (God the father killed millions , but Jesus did not). Jesus also preaches thou shall not kill. So yes, Jesus was a martyr but as I said… On the other hand, the other monotheistic Abrahamic religion – Islam, explicitly encourages and rewards persons who not only commit suicide but also murder as many people as possible in the process in the name of their god Allah. Lovely!!!

How counterintuitive is it to think that suicide and mass murder is something that will get you into Paradise with all those virgins. Just absolute nonsense!!! WTF are these zealots thinking???

So to get to my point, what if one of these suicidal homicidal martyrs gets his hands on nuclear weaponry? It’s over – that’s what. End of the species – Sapiens and the Genus – Homo. Thankfully, N. Korea is not a theocracy and Kim Jung-Un is not suicidal. But Iran is.

So WhaDaYaThink? What do you think? What I’ve always thought to myself was – thank God making a nuclear bomb is prodigiously difficult. If it was easy, you wouldn’t be reading this now. You’d be dead.

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President Wanted: No Experience, No Skills, and No Intelligence Needed

May 22nd, 2017 by Michael Tabor

Image result for donald trump dunce

Yep, that’s the ad the imbecilic, bankrupt, Reality Star responded to – a couple of years ago. And, ½ of America was stupid enough to buy into it and vote in Donald J. Trump.

I hope that after Trump gets impeached and maybe goes to prison afterwards, the people will finally have learned a thing or two.

Here’s sort of a laundry list of what we ought to learn from this atrocity and how we ought to proceed in the future so this doesn’t EVER happen again:

·        Politics is profoundly difficult and complicated.

·        There are at 3 qualifications anyone running for public office should have. Here they are:

  1. Must have experience in politics. One can begin locally in one’s hometown and then build up to state, etc. I think anyone running for POTUS ought to have at least a decade or more of experience as a governor or congressperson.

  2. Since we’re dealing with LAWS, I believe any candidate running for office must have a law degree, a JD – common sense. If you’re not a lawyer, then public life is not an option.

  3. Intelligence – well if you’re a lawyer and you passed the bar, then you’ve demonstrated that you’re smarter than the average person and you probably have a good idea of what the expression “we’re a nation of laws” means.

·        NO MORE celebrities –STOP!!! Arnold was awful, Jesse Ventura was a joke and Reagan, well…another blog. Al Franken seems to be the only competent one of the lot.

·        Just because you’re a “successful” business person (btw, we all know that Trump never was, but…another blog) doesn’t mean that you can transfer those skills and abilities into policy making and public life, etc.

There is more, but this is a start. So. WhaDaYaThink? What do you think? Let the impeachment proceedings commence and let’s get back on track.

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Chris Cornell Commits Suicide

May 20th, 2017 by Michael Tabor

Image result for chris cornell

Chris Cornell, lead singer and frontman of the grunge rock band, SoundGarden, hanged himself in his hotel room only hours after performing a concert on Wednesday night. Chris was 52 years old and seemingly “had it all” – more money than any one-person needs, fame, celebrity, friends, family, loved by family, loved by millions, super-talented and revered. What is going on??? Another suicide that just doesn’t seem to add up (to some ignorant people anyway).

Clinical depression is not something that’s “all in your head” nor is it something that you can just snap out of. The best book I’ve ever read on this subject was by the late William Styron titled ‘Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness”. This memoir in fewer than 200 pages encapsulated what it’s “like” to be clinically and suicidally depressed. Describing depression lucidly and in concrete terms is virtually impossible. Styron did an amazing job by teasing out the details metaphorically i.e. “like being in an overheated waiting room for eternity with no relief in sight…” …an unfathomable suffocating, choking and drowning feeling…”  Simply the epitome of hopelessness, helplessness, futility and unspeakable FATIGUE + the horrible feeling of “I’m never ever going to escape this…all is lost. Everything is dark, lonely and ugly.

Check this out: 121 die by suicide each day and 93 of them are men. According to the CDC, most of the men are between the ages of 45 – 65 and an overwhelming number of the suicide victims are white (7 out of 10) and counterintuitively, many victims seem to be financially independent ($$ does not buy happiness). When people are struggling to eke out a living, they’re less likely to kill themselves.

Can you imagine the pain and agony Chris Cornell was in??? Stangling yourself to death!!! Could you do that? Even if you were stricken with a dreadful terminal disease like ALS, that way of offing yourself just doesn’t seem possible – at least to me anyway. So WhaDaYaThink? WhaDaYaThink? I hope you have found peace, Chris.

This is eerie…Chris basically saying goodbye.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ao7HSRFYWI

 

 

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Mike At The Movies

May 18th, 2017 by Michael Tabor

Image result for russell brand stoned

Russell Brand: From Addiction to Recovery

Just finished watching Russell Brand’s documentary on drug and alcohol addiction – an inside look into his personal anguishing journey as well as other people’s nightmares. Russell nails it when he states that being a junkie is worse than DEATH – way worse. It’s HELL, simply speaking. I’ve personally had abuse issues with alcohol, Xanax, and suboxone . Today I am completely clean and sober and by the grace of God have zero desire to EVER go back to Hades. Unfortunately, I now have real (Note: addiction is absolutely real on a physical and psychological level.  Amy Winehouse, at the age of 27 died from alcohol withdrawal not an overdose)Physical health issues (I won’t get into it here) and am grateful that I don’t have to contend with addiction issues anymore.

It’s surprising to many that Russell Brand who on the surface had absolutely everything: money, fame, celebrity, extraordinary good-looks, etc. but his life was spiraling out of control. At the end, he was just another desperate junkie just waiting to die or get his next fix – 24/7. Many people who don’t have addiction issues simply don’t understand. An outsider looks at an alcoholic and is completely perplexed. “Why is this person destroying himself??? It’s so obvious to the addict and everyone else that he or she is slowly killing themselves and ruining the lives of everyone around them.  The person who doesn’t drink or do drugs just doesn’t understand. WHY is it so hard for someone to just STOP??? It’s very seductive for a “normal” person to wonder why addicts do it. Not drinking is so EASY and natural for someone who doesn’t have a problem. I understand. STOP!!!! -is the impulse for them to say. But, sadly it’s so much more complicated than that. Russell Brand tries to emphasize over and over that alcoholism is a DISEASE not unlike cancer.

Russell Brand is back and better than ever and is enjoying his life. He was one of the lucky ones who caught it in time. I struggle everyday 24/7 with chronic and agonizing pain but at least I don’t have to worry about getting that next drink. WhaDaYaThink? What do you think? As bad as alcoholism is, you do however have a choice to do something about it. With ALS, Cancer, and other dreadful diseases, you don’t have that luxury. God bless and stay sober!!!

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Entertainment or Sport

May 16th, 2017 by Michael Tabor

Image result for trash talk mma

These days, just as important as your skills in Wrestling, Jiu-Jitsu, Boxing, Striking, etc. is the art of ‘Shit Talking” or building up a fight. Connor McGregor and Jon Jones are the greatest fighters in the world, but not unlike Muhammed Ali, they know that the ENTERTAINMENT aspect of MMA is more important than the actual fight (sometimes – to be fair). MMA is bigger than ever because of these larger – than – life personalities. In the beginning, it used to be all about the martial arts and respect, now it’s all about denigrating your opponent with one’s mouth – before the actual fight.

So WhaDaYaThink? What do you think? Hey, it’s what the average fan wants. I just hope it doesn’t turn into a circus like boxing and professional wrestling. I am terrified of fights being fixed and fighters getting title shots not based on merit and ability but shenanigans.  Oh, how can I neglect to mention the Diaz brothers? They have taken “Shit Talking” to a completely new level. Hey, but they’re no longer poor boys from Stockton, they’re multi-millionaires.

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Tyler Talks Animal Planet

May 7th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

tyler

Hi, it’s me! Tyler! I’ll get right into it today, no pussy footing around.

Stephen Hawk King says if the human species is going to survive they need to colonize another planet in the next 100 years. First he said 1000 years, now it’s 100. This poses a problem right off the bat, this inconsistency with the number of years. After screwing up the earth in more ways than I can count on one paw (and I’m not a Hemingway cat, I only have 5 digits), they can’t even remotely estimate how long they have before they go and pollute another planet. One hundred years, give or take nine hundred. Hit it in the ballpark, okay?

Which brings me to my second point. They can’t even agree on Yankees and Red Sox let alone climate change. When push comes to shove, who gets to go to this pristine paradise and mess it up?

We all know the moon is inhabited by mice, right? There are huge craters dug by monster sized mice nibbling at the moon’s crust (I think it’s Limburger, nice and smelly like a good pair of old sneakers). I’d like to go there!  All cats should be sent to the moon!

There’s only one problem with that. Once all the mice have been eaten, who’s going to open that can of cat food? I propose we send one human along with all the cats to be our slave. Let’s face it. We don’t need a whole human species. One human bean is enough. But what if something happens to that one bean? Like he contracts ring worm from Saturn for instance? One can never be too careful. Okay, two then! Let’s make it two beans. One to open the can, the other to dispose of it. That’s all they can handle anyway. No, wait. We have to be responsible and recycle.  Can we use the same can over and over? If we do, what will be the function of the other bean? Can we get him to groom us? Does he appreciate the quality of a good brush?

As for all of the other animals on earth, let’s make a space age Noah’s Ark and get two of each species and blast them far enough away from the moon. They can all fend for themselves without so-called human intervention (as witnessed on planet Earth). That should satisfy animal advocates and fundamentalists alike.

It’s really sad, though. I’ll miss some things about Earth. All those birds and bugs I swat at and never seem to catch. I really don’t like the taste of mice that much. I’d much rather have a can of Fancy Feet, chicken’s my favorite. Wait! Hawk King said we have one hundred years, right? So I won’t be around anyway! And we won’t need a human to open that can, except for right now! So where’s Michael? Open that can of chicken and you can throw the empty can at Hawk King for all I care.

So……………whadayathink? Should humans venture into space and cause more chaos and corruption? Will they force aliens from their homeland and let Luke Skywalker open a casino? Will Das Trump Tower disappear from the skyline once and for all? And is it really constructed with millions of cans of Fancy Feet? Let’s get him to open a can! An instructional video should do the trick. He does have trouble reading. Is “chicken” too hard a word? Does he know one when he sees one? Do we trust him with this job?

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