Friday, July 18, 2014

Brotherhood in Arms: Chris Robinson gets psychedelic

When an artist enters the studio intent on "experimentation," the results will be unpredictable. With any luck, new sonic territory will be discovered. And yes, some old fans may feel betrayed if a rock star attempts to reinvent himself. In such cases, as the Chris Robinson Brotherhood has found, the success of the end product, "Phosphorescent Harvest," depends on your point of view.
If your point of view is listening through ear plugs while staring at your smart phone, the chances are a psychedelic boogie called "Humboldt Wind Chimes" is not your cup of tea. It may test your patience, as you keep looking for the jingle, sounding all pretty confusing to you as seasoned guitars crunch dirty chords and layered walls of keyboards twist in galactic clouds of warbling stars. If sensations of dysrhythmia persist, cease listening and call your doctor.
But if you are looking for something not quite so truncated, nor compact as a three-minute ditty suitable to be clipped for an Apple television commercial, and you have actually listened to music by the Grateful Dead from, say, "From the Mars Hotel," or, an even stranger trip, "Anthem of the Sun," then you might marvel at the dexterous musical complexities of the latest album by CRB, an event in vintage rock returned from retrograde and rendered anew.
As Robinson commented recently, the kaleidoscopic suites for the band's third album were never intended to sell cell phones.
More than 20 years ago, The Black Crowes hit the scene with their hard-rock sensibilities during the birth of an alternative rock era where Brit bands such as Depeche Mode and Seattle grunge were the rage. But the 1990 debut album "Shake Your Money Maker" proved that the old rock wasn't dead, and that audiences were hugely in favor of that classic-rock familiarity. "Shake Your Money Maker" went quintuple-platinum and generated the chart-topping cover of the Otis Redding song, "Hard to Handle," and the Crowes' own tune, "She Talks to Angels." The band went on to produce eight more studio albums (and four live albums) but as the years wore on, Chris Robinson was in the mood for something different.
Although The Black Crowes have had reunion tours in recent years, the band currently is on hiatus as Robinson has gotten more in line with the folk-rock revival. He calls the result of the Chris Robinson Brotherhood's "Phospherescent Harvest" experiment "hippie baroque."
And if space is your final frontier, "Phosphorescent Harvest" is the perfect fuel to get there, especially if you are not in any particular hurry. The songs are long by pop music standards. As CRB guitarist Neal Casal says, "We are amazed if we come in at five minutes."
Casal said the group went into the studio thinking it would take many of the road-tested tracks further than they had ever gone before, exploring brave new worlds of sound. There's a reinvented Deadhead-ness about it, but with a musical palette of turning knobs to create distorted layers of weirdness that ebb and flow, strange and murky as Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," but more naturalistic than hard-wired, all encasing Robinson's southern rock roots growl and mystical, post-giant-celebrity-rock-star storytelling songwriting style.
Controversial, perhaps, in its delivery, but after a few listens, the surreal musicality of it starts to reveal Robinson as no more alien, in terms of the tunecraft, than The Doobie Brothers on "The Captain and Me." His songwriting is still melodious, straight-ahead, except now (especially on the ballads) with more of a subtle tendency to purr than howl. Yes, Robinson's swagger is still there, especially on such tracks as "Shore Power" and "Jump the Turnstile," the latter of which goes over the horizon with an extended revelatory guitar jam. But the lead singer is only a part of the puzzle here. The Chris Robinson Brotherhood is a collaboration.
"The concept of the band is to be experimental, to not be heavy rock like The Black Crowes," Casal says. "We wanted to lighten it up with something Grateful Dead inspired, very pyschedelic, bluesy, with a Herbie Hancock sort of cosmic jazz. I am by no means a jazz player, but we were dipping into those areas. We wanted to expand the field and just go for it."
In going for it, the tight thump and grind of the old Black Crowes sound is road kill. Very little of what the Crowes recorded is played on this tour. Robinson, who Casal says is an "amazing musicologist," is more of a folk-rock crooner these days. However, the California rock intentions are perfect for a mature sharing of the bill with a band such as Bob Weir's post-Dead ensemble, Rat Dog, which is what Casal was preparing for as, during the interview, he refused to compare the Chris Robinson Brotherhood with his previous band, Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, only to say "They (Robinson and Adams) are two completely different kinds of people, different kinds of songwriters."
Of his Ryan Adams and the Cardinals years, 2007 to 2009, Casal said it was a great live band and amazing time of his life. "We were a dangerous group," he says. "But there is nowhere I'd rather be than where I am right now. With this band I've really grown as a musician, and it has really opened up my playing."
Casal was born in New Jersey and somehow became more of a Jerry Garcia fan than an aficionado of Bruce Springsteen, and he's all about California as a resident of Ventura now. Hence, the continuum of the Grateful Dead legacy remains unbroken.
"I was intrigued with his (Garcia's) voice," he says. "It's so complex, and somewhere along the line I became obsessed with the song 'Casey Jones,' and saw the Dead live many times."
He speaks of the Chris Robinson Brotherhood as a "hard-touring group" that after three albums takes a lot of joy in its teamwork. He credits ex-Crowes keyboardist Adam MacDougall for being extraordinarily adventurous with bright synth sounds and the deep, rich atmospherics of "Phosphorescent Harvest."
In terms of the sonic oddities on the record, MacDougall "was the one who really led the charge," Casal says. "He's incredibly knowledgeable to work with. There were times where we were in the studio and he was trying to come up with something and we would be like, 'Why is this taking so long?' But it was worth the wait. It's not just bullshit sound effects he came up with; they are creative, different, keeping to the melody lines with washes, layered sounds. That's what he's really good at."
The entire group -- Robinson (lead vocals, guitar); Casal (guitar, vocals); MacDougall (keys, vocals); George Sluppick (drums) and Mark Dutton (bass, vocals) -- is really starting to make the Crowes look pretty small in the rearview mirror. When the tour began, they had performed more than 230 shows. That's not too bad for a band Robinson created to jam with in Los Angeles, and then expanded to the rest of California.
"We are getting to the point where we can really back up our talk," Casal says. "It's not just a spoken concept, it's one where we are actually living it. When the band works hard as a unit, it does become a real point of pride."

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

The clock is ticking on classic rock: that great age of forty or more years ago, when the musicianship and lyricism of the post-Woodstock years just sorta peaked, and the whole world just bought a Coke, harmonized, perfectly, and went to the dark side of the moon. Rock'n'roll decided to go to college and, during the decade-long romance of the 1970s, out came this intergalactic baby prodigy called progressive rock.

With Brit bands consisting of art-school dropouts and classically trained musicians, acts such as King Crimson, the Moody Blues and Gentle Giant set the pace to the mellotron sky, reclaiming the tradition of the great English poets going back to William Shakespeare, giving us at least two things. The first, painted sound creating visual landscapes in your head reminscent of classical music set to nursery rhyming metaphors or set in avant-garde netherworlds. Some critics, scorning it all, called it "flash rock." The second thing to come out of it all was punk rock, emerging from the pure frustration that most performers couldn't reach those heights.

Nope, you had to be a genius of some kind to play that kind of music, and intellectual acuity will only get you so far with the rest of your stoner friends in the mundane world. But now, think about this: Soon, many of the artists of the short-lived age of progressive rock will be passing on, unable to perform at even the casino as a has-been name-brand band. I mean, have you seen Peter Gabriel's waistline lately, and, hey, Roger Daltrey! Put on a shirt!

Even the classic rock tribute bands are aging. Consider Living With the Past, the planet's only "officially sanctioned" Jethro Tull tribute band.

"We are the only endorsed Jethro Tull tribute band in the world," says Ray Roehner, group leader for Living With the Past, who has been interpreting the "Baker Street muse," the Pied Piper of prog rock, for two decades. "A lot of tribute bands are kind of corny," he says. "I like the act that tries to do the music, and not focus so much on the way bands dress and the antics. People appreciate the sincerity of doing that without the mimicry."

Roehner, who says he's an associate of Tull's Ian Anderson -- the bug-eyed, flute-whipping, Pan-like whirling dervish who launched the iconoclastic "underground" group in the late 1960s -- doesn't attempt any of the on-stage mannerisms, such as standing on one leg while he plays. Indeed, trying to play such tricky music is hard enough. "If you let your mind wander a bit, you are lost," Roehner says. Yep, you'd better keep up on the coffee to focus on the ornate, exacting time shifts of "Songs from the Wood," or, as Living With the Past does, the first 26 minutes of "Thick as a Brick."

Roehner, who lives in Sedona but is flying his band in from New York, along with a large cache of vintage instruments, including Pearl Jam's old drum kit to get the fills right, and a piano "that weighs a ton," has kept in contact with Anderson over the years. The actual Tull leader, now performing as Ian Anderson (including a date in Mesa this fall), has recognized Living With the Past's dedication to his music. Roehner and the creator of such 70s rock staples as "Aqualung" and "Bungle in the Jungle," have a kind of collaborative relationship. For that reason, Roehner doesn't like to steal Anderson's visual eccentricities.

"He keeps up on what we are doing and he gets ideas from us, such as how we structure a set or combining and incorporating things, and he's done that with his shows," he says. "But jumping around and throwing the flute around while standing on one leg, it's kind of like his signature, and he's been very gracious in letting us do this. People tell me you really need to stand on your leg while you play. Those are his moves and I just don't feel comfortable doing that."

From a distance, Roehner looks a bit like Anderson on stage, and he's certainly capable of capturing the Tull leader's accents on the flute. The rest of the band, with its two guitarists, makes one appreciate original Tull guitarist Martin Barre. His legacy in the annals of hard rock from the 1970s and 1980s is really captured by Living With the Past.

The opening act for the Tull tribute, Adrian Conner, a guitarist, singer and songwriter who has her own band, Adrian & the Sickness, but also does an AC/DC and Judas Priest tribute band called Hell's Belles, says she wouldn't be able to make a living as a musician without her "day job," that is, covering Angus Young and Rob Halford tunes.

"I wouldn't have been able to put out seven of my own albums without doing Hell's Belles," she says. "It's not easy to find paying gigs playing original music these days."

But Conner should get more notice for her own work. She is a tremendous player who attacks the guitar, and her stage antics are more than just entertaining. Her delivery of Jimi Hendrix's "Little Wing" had a number of people in the small crowd at a recent show at the Oprheum in Flagstaff, Arizona, drew some raves. After her relentless shows, she sold more than a few CDs ... of her own music combining classic rock riffs with a more punked out, Joan Jett & the Blackhearts orientation.

In this age of the "American Idol" karaoke star, we can all pause and wonder how tribute bands, if they are good enough to get out of the bars, like these two bands, just how they can get good enough to go out there and sound like Jerry Garcia on guitar, Keith Moon on the drums, or Ian Anderson on the flute. Takes a musician with some peculiar skills as both musician and actor to pull it off. And someday, just imagine. It won't be that classical pianist drawing grants from the National Endowment for the Arts. Instead, it will be four cats who can deliver "Stairway to Heaven" note-for-note. That'll be the day job creation for musician-actors reaches "The Great Gig in the Sky," when a Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd or Genesis performance is as common as Shakespeare in the park.

Monday, April 14, 2014

From the Flatlanders to the Clash: Joe Ely's long and winding road to the core of roots rock

Forty years after the Flatlanders record went nowhere in 1972, the group consisting of  (above) Joe Ely, Butch Hancock and Jimmy Dale Gilmore is something of an alt-country super group sensation now.

Ely is pretty sentimental about those formative years and those factors that led to success a half-century later.

After the Flatlanders record was released only as an eight-track tape, selling very little, Ely hit the road and ended up in New York City. He returned to Lubbock a few years later and joined the circus until a rib injury sidelined him. Kept still for a while, he formed the Joe Ely Band, which became a kind of unclassifiable country rock band synthesizing all of the music of the region, and in many ways becoming one of the core Texas-based seeds for the southwestern sound.

He signed with MCA Records in 1975, which over the decades became a kind of Billy Martin/George Steinbrenner relationship.

"I was on MCA Records four different times," he says. "They liked what I was doing, but they never found out what to do with it."

But Ely knew what to do: keep moving. By the late 1970s and early 1980s Ely had become a critical fave for such songs as "Musta Notta Gotta Lotta" and "Honky Tonk Masquerade." His razor-sharp lyricism, full of concrete details and a self-deprecating sense of humor getting notice at about the time as the Blasters were arriving, Jerry Jeff Walker was nearly a household name, X was experimenting with country rock and the Boss was blowing listeners away with the American roots oriented album, "The River."

Ely's band became the opening act serving as a tastemaker for such bands as Tom Petty and Heartbreakers, the Kinks and the Rolling Stones, all bands that blanched at the synth-pop of new wave, seeking a guitar-oriented rock'n'roll restoration with Ely as the lead off authentic genuine article to set the mood. It was during those years that Ely, suddenly better known in England and Ireland and Scandinavia than in the U.S., met the Clash.

"It was an odd meeting of two different bands from two completely different parts of the world," he says. "The one thing we had in common was a love for rockabilly. They had just recorded Sonny Curtis's 'I Fought the Law and the Law Won,' which I had also recorded, and we hit it off. All of the sudden we had a connection, and they showed us all around London."

It was Ely doing the chorus parts of "Should I Stay or Should I Go," with the lines of poorly remembered Spanish bits remembered from his days in Lubbock, and the band sought Ely's assistance for a roots-rock oriented series of performances in Texas. Ely says the Clash had a pretty romanticized idea of where they wanted to play, "places that promoters would never book anyone ... but we eventually were able to find them places to play like a high school gym in Laredo and a bordello in Juarez: They were looking for a kind of mystical passage into another era."

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Just as the buzzards were closing in on the irrefutable disconnect that Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer had vetoed a neo-conservative "religious freedom" bill, S.B. 1062, that she allowed to flourish for weeks in the Arizona legislature while she watched, that she later denied knowing about, as if the existence of the whole loony tune Republican-led legislative body was news to her, she announced this week that she would not seek a third term, no doubt because it had been determined she was un-re-electable.

The next day, March 13, 2014, a younger copy cat cougar television advertisement for Christine Jones, a former executive vice president at, for governator was broadcast during the early morning segment of the local news affiliate for CBS in Phoenix, KPHO-TV, which is far less liberal than the national newsreaders might seem, considering the reputation of "60 Minutes," Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather and Mike Wallace and so on for taking on the powerful to the Big East ... anyway, this feature advert (don't really know how long or often it had been broadcast previously, but it couldn't have been often) included Christine Jones acting like it was a commercial for a new brand of eye glasses. Call it the Sarah Palin pivot. She had the neo-politico hairdo, as in, kinda cougar, very Scottsdale, as in, appealing quite well to the gated community crowd. With sex appeal, perhaps, at the pivot just as her back was turned, for a quick look for the Viagra set. Close shot. You get the picture. The only thing missing was the wink.

Looked more like a hair commercial than a political advertisement.

Anyway, the weird pot-pole in American history that is Brewer's political career, considering the damage she had done to Arizona already backward international reputation was barely cold, and here was another close shot to a well-coiffed female to feast the fearful eyes on. Another party girl ready to rule. Another governator ready to f...k. A kind of Sarah Palin moment. Jeesh, I wish I could shake the impression, but there it is: My own style of masculine progressive propaganda, sure, sure, sure ... I've been known to see mirages for years ... call it post-traumatic Evan Mecham era disorder ... morphed into a Joe Arpaio border monitor ...

But let's just keep hot-dry-lands imagery brewing, just to see if any of it rings true. Have a Corona. If you must.

Brewer's announcement that she wasn't going to run was hardly a surprise. If you consider the disaster to race relations in the nation caused by S.B. 1070 a few years back, the finger-wagging-incident-at-President-Barack-Obama-photo meme, and the more recent confusion and embarrassment of an arch-conservative "religious freedom" bill to respond to a problem that did not exist, the whole state has been nothing less than ruderless in the foul winds of the cruel airs of the new draconian discourse of the snake charmers.

One only wonders if the state, since it hasn't all but burned down despite these social disorders, really even needs a governor. This arid land just seems to be solid as hell. If wishy washy leadership can't bring catastrophe to billions and billions of years of heat-baked stone, maybe we can save a few bucks and do away with the office entirely. At least the land endures.

Maybe a good wind sock will do. Just let it turn, in the breeze, to the political winds. During her announcement, Brewer used the term that she will continue to be a "cheerleader" for the state. And now I'm left with the unshakable angst and the sense of bewonderment at the mere question: "cheerleader" for what? Economic recovery? For more television news Kens and Barbies and politicians in kewpie doll outfits to blow sunshine up to the idea that our bloodthirsty glory days will somehow be restored ... oh never mind ... It's all just a bunch of bullshit! There was no such thing. The real terror-torial history of the southwest is a sad one. Brewer putting an exclamation point on this type of "mission accomplished" public relations from state offices is nothing less than lipstick on a pig, and a starving one at that.

Shame on anyone who buys it. The desertification of the Californicated is almost complete, this campaign commercial Confuscious reasons. Poetically speaking, let me put it this way for Arizonans: If you can still spit, you are part of the problem.

To Brewer's credit, she didn't always tow the party line. For example, accepting federal funds for Medicare during a red herring era where taking anything from President Barack Obama's administration was heresy for the reactionary rattlesnake sect. After her announcement, at least one pro-right commentator was kind enough to say she did what was best for the state of Arizona, and there is little doubt that this is what she actually believed. Sure. Sure. Sure. The road to hell is paved with ... "a lower wage Mississippi economy," as the leading Democratic contender, Fred DuVal, puts it.

Meanwhile, the GOP and Tea Party is flooding the zone with candidates, and it's going to be a bloody scramble for the governator candidate to run against the lone Democratic choice for gov so far, DuVal. Why so many conservatives want to be governor in a state that more often than not prefers a Democrat (and why that is, exactly) ... (is beyond me). Seems like a GOP guv will stand atop a snake pit of odd constituencies that wants to roll back even the knowledge that the Earth isn't flat. And it's so hard to argue with crazy people. But not even Arizona is flat, so I am told, and based on these billion-year-old canyons and mountains and stuff, I'm starting to believe, yes, Copernicus and Galileo and the highly skilled invaders of Mars at the University of Arizona astrolabs are correct, despite what some members of the Know Nothing Party, which wears ignorance like a badge of honor, wants people to believe.

One of these retro-wing hopefuls, Al Melvin, a state senator from District 11, may have already succumbed to these peculiar factoids when he failed to manage a few simple questions from Anderson Cooper over S.B. 1062. Yes, Big Al, religious freedom is running pretty rampant in the U.S.of A., due to something called the First Amendment. No need for the ditto. And don't even talk about that old Reagan era bugaboo, flag burning, cowboy. Everybody is saving their matches these days.

The GOP stampede this year will include Jones, the aforementioned "it" girl of the moment, who must have tons of her own money as the attorney for; Mesa Mayor Scott Smith, State Treasurer Doug Ducey, Secretary of State Ken Bennett, and Andrew Thomas, the former attorney general who ran wild bunch for a while with Maricopa County Sheriff Joe "J. Edgar" Arpaio, who has found a new hobby in the drone technology industry and alienated so many of the state's Latino voters the red line toward Democrats looks like some straight-up burning arrow from Al Gore's film, "An Incovenient Truth." Just think of the debates to come. Would anybody actually want to spend an evening hanging out with these people? Folks who think Sen. John McCain, a flame-spitting hawk, is some kind of liberal? Pretty tough crowd. The good. The bad. The ugly.

Just take a peak over the edge of the canyon, man. Greet the abyss. Doesn't it just make you want to spit?

Friday, February 28, 2014

Deceased author Raymond Chandler brought on as chief investigator for Arizona's S.B. 1062 fiasco

The Take Arizona's Super Bowl Hostage Committee has brought on Raymond Chandler, author of the detective novel, "The Big Sleep," as its chief investigator. The investigation didn't take long. No longer, that is, than that point in almost every episode of "Law and Order" when the detectives, after nosing around the streets of New York City knock over every seedy joint and newsy and drug addict for information decide to do a web search to find all of the missing clues they need to instantly find enough to prosecute the case.

In this case, all clues lead to the Cathi Herrod of the right-wing group, The Center for Arizona Policy ...

"Sounds pretty innocuous," stated the late mystery novelist, "but in the river of shit that knows no sleep, you can smell this one from here to Uganda. With a last name like that, no wonder this poor woman has some real religious hang-ups."

With that, Chandler returned to his eternal big sleep in a puff of pipe smoke.

Chief spokesperson for the committee to further pursue the members of Arizona's legislature who brought Arizona's poor civil rights image back to the forehead of the  international zeitgeist, the late author James Joyce, said he was pleased that Chandler's investigation was as inexpensive as it was, and thanked Chandler for his contribution to the literary tradition of the crime novel noir.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

A Portrait of Young State as an Outlaw Brigand

James Joyce appointed
to Take Arizona's Super Bowl 
Hostage Committee

In a stream of consciousness decision, the early 20th century author, James Joyce, has been appointed to the recently formed pirate organization intended to host the next Super Bowl in Arizona, if we ever get around to that ... According to Joyce ...

"Though my efforts may seem dead to the dumbed-down world, and my book, Ulysses, was once seized for being obscene by authorities in New York state, things have calmed down quite a bit since then ... personally ... and more recently I have become more of a sports fan .... Because the state of Arizona, which doesn't even tolerate daylight savings, and is therefore unaware of what the time is, or even what century it is, I felt like it was a good time to become an apparition to haunt the state of Arizona, although, as I recall, I didn't go in much for  the rampant spiritualism when I was alive, although, in more recent years, I had become a big fan of Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung after my wake ... Now, my main mission as member of this newly formed committee is to make harsh judgment on Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer for allowing reactionaries to let the state burn while she churned about, quite lavishly, and perhaps a little hung over without having the usual bloody Mary in the morning, in order to function as the state's incredibly malfunctioning leader, to ask one fashionable question posed these days to politicians with something to hide, and who nevertheless stand to profit, in terms of the current polarities brewing, regarding what might be the benefit to herself, as governor considering, even while Arizona burns as an international laughing stock, the musical question: When and where was she when the state legislature was coming up with S.B. 1062 such nonsense in the first place, and why she waited so long to veto it, rather than further embarrass the citizens of this southwestern alcove of phantasmagorical odyssey ... as time fades away since the cursed event?

Since it has become unfathomably weird whenever the legislature is gathering to come up with such dumb stuff all of the time, and needs to be watched (no, babysat) closely, and Brewer is a politician who should have known in advance about what was, well, brewing for the Brewster and her party, it's hard to believe she needed to deliberate much about what already is regarded as unnecessary ... since the U.S. government already has guaranteed free speech with regards to freedom of religion ... it's hard to imagine how this dead man walking  S.B. 1062 bill couldn't have been headed off at the pass, as you cowboy, gun-toting Yanks like to call it, without damaging the state's reputation as it already has been ... unless,, of course, it likes that distinction ...

Now, other states have been enacting, or trying to enact stuff like this, too, but Arizona is uniquely branded as a hot bed for this kind of baffoonery, and the mythic clock of the small leading the larger, ever-outwinding tick-tocks of the world seem to find this desert wasteland uncommonly amusing ... Indeed, the silliness is quite the gift that keeps on giving for whatever liberals the arid zone already has ... from the MLK Day debacle in the early 1990s, to the botched debate over racial profiling more recently, and a lot of other perverse lawmaking that only rural areas in far flung Arab lands tend to circulate ... So, I ask again: Where were you governor, and what did you know about this, and why didn't you just stamp it out before things got clearly out of hand?

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

And now for a few notes on how to hijack Arizona's Superbowl for political reasons ...

Folks, if you are sports fan, you have been hosted to a number of fantastic events in recent days, such as the Super Bowl, then, a little after that, the Sochi Winter Olympic Games, hosted by world leader, the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin, and attended by a bunch of media people, as well as those who can afford to buy tickets for such things, and, of course, the athletes themselves, an international herd of gravity game neophytes and wannabe glamsters on skates and skis and snowboards, all going for the gold, except for one person who had the nerve to leave the scene because she, a Ukranian athlete, Adelina Sotnikova, couldn't stomach the revelry knowing a violent revolution was going on back home.

Which is a shame, of course ... too bad there isn't a medal for that.

Next year, Arizona will host the Super Bowl. Dunno what the Roman numeral for it but No. 49 going to be a big one. The state's governor, Jan Brewer, is expected to veto the controversial S.B. 1062 bill, according to reports. That, leaves, as default, the entire state's Republican-led legislature, to serve as the next official choice to host as a kind of mob representative responsible for the debacle. That is the same group of politicians who passed S,B. 1062, which would, if signed into law, allow any business to refuse service to anyone they please based on their own intolerant, biased, pig-headed religious beliefs. 

Most likely, many of these same people will be in attendance for the event in Glendale, conveniently located between the city of Phoenix and the Pacific ocean. Like Sochi, it is also in a war zone, as well as a host for a great many gun shows ... something I happened to notice on the Phoenix television news broadcasts, and Miami Dolphins lineman Richie Incognito is from there, as well. So is Jan Brewer. That is where she got her degree for a radiology career, which was what she did before she became a politician.

Now, as I still sit here so seasick from the things I have just mentioned and more, I must argue that I, as a resident taxpaying citizen of Arizona, have a share in all of this, which makes me, at least, a host in portions.

Which gives me the right to declare, yes, that I am now taking the Super Bowl in Arizona next year, well, hostage, pirate style. Aye!

Search here soon for upcoming arrangements, events, and so on. For example, I'm thinking of dictating that the game will be between the Denver Broncos and Pittsburgh Pirates (I know, I know, the Pittsburgh Pirates consists of baseball players), but that's the best way to ensure the game will be a blowout by a 44-0 score ... and that the game will be over a few seconds after the first play, just like this year's game. More to come as events unfold.