Reexamining Brad's post from 11/24/2007 now that the North Fork Store has been transported away

Link to North Fork Store article

https://www.mtexpress.com/wood_river_journal/features/next-stop-whatever-s-in-store/article_7587893e-af28-11e9-b885-8bfb72612108.html

brad9:07 AM

Jim,

Great little flashback on our Clint Eastwood musings. You handled that letter well. I was a "little" disappointed that writer Dave didn't jump at the chance to make this leg of his investigation a personal one. Who wouldn't want to write off a trip to the Sawtooths and a stay in Ketchum as part of your livelihood income?

Also, I kinda wondered about why he would ask you to take photos (with the implied attitude that he'd be working on the book at home or with his laptop on a round table near the pastry counter of his local LA Starbucks.) Maybe it's a good thing that you only had time to offer him a low-res cell phone shot of the mining sign. Even though you took the "high mining camp trail" and pledged that you'd do all things to help, hopefully he will see the kerosene lantern and get personally involved with the site research of maybe Eastwood's most out of the way and special Idaho portion of his film pursuits.

I had no idea you worked so hard to gather info for Dana, only to have the information evaporate. I'm sure Aimes would have been thrilled to have run across that file.

I agree with you that Eastwood does not make frequent trips to the Valley. When I had his wooden hot tub on my spa route from 1992 through about 98, it was only apparent that he was here when there was Jazz music blasting through the house, though I never laid eyes on the man, unlike my coworker Lou Ann. I did meet his son briefly, (Kyle?) and his then new dark haired wife, an assistant, and heard the noises of his little baby while in the house resetting the spa heater button sometime in the early or mid 90s. He had an interesting collection of old-time pinball machines on the lower level of his house.

Interesting that the hits to our Eastwood musings sort of have a continuous life. Wow, great to realize.

Just got back from a successful trip to Colorado. The plan to fly back "on" Thanksgiving Day paid off well. Even some of the employees were talkative at the airport. By offering to work on T-giving, they got double-time pay, sparse crowds and an easy day. They were as easy to engage as a checker at a small town independent grocery store. Joyce and I wandered leisurely through the Denver Airport shops. I was pleased that they had reduced some music cassettes to $10 off, (so only 3 bucks), and we got instant service at coffee shops and food vendors. Even though the planes were not empty, fellow fliers were not crazed and edgy. Then, we got back for a long weekend to finish up the holiday mood without any feeling of being rushed in masses of humanity.

As the vacation started, Dad surprised me with tickets to Warren Miller's latest movie "PLayground" in a massive old-time theater in downtown Denver, called the Paramount. The last time I was there, my ears were ringing for days at work after a George Thoroughgood concert back in about 1981.

The lastest Warren movie was like a concert party. They threw out LED-lighted frisbees from the stage to rally the crowd. There was lots of ski giveaway stuff including free ski passes and a Jeep. There was an active bar on both levels of the huge old-time theater. The energy of the crowd was infectious; every time the film would change to another ski area, such as Steamboat Springs, that portion of the crowd (that liked to ski that area) went into a cheering hoopla. The Mile High City must definitively be the epicenter of Warren Miller mania. They needed it, as the snow hadn't come to the high country by Nov. 18.

"Playground" was an interesting Red-Bull charge of cinematic adventures mixed with garage-band music, and fists of fluffy snow flying at your face after every action shot. Warren himself is in his early 80s, so he's retired, but you still get audio clips of his gentle style of humor, even though his son is more involved and it is under a new group. The chief guy is Kim Schneider, 53. Warren Miller started in SV with his first one-man film in Sun Valley, called Deep and Light, 1949. This current film involved a crew of 52. The length in miles of film shot before editing was 22 miles, the cost per second of film was about $1. Apparently, the new man, Schneider used to make Super 8 movies based on index card ideas when he was a kid.

He met Warren Miller in 1974, (who Dad also met when I was a kid and once came over to our house in about '68) when Kim was living in a truck in the Heavenly Valley parking lot. He was filming a freestyle competition, and stayed late, where there were only a few shooters left. He heard "the voice" behind him, and it said "Did you get anything good?" They skied down to his truck, where Miller said something like "this is yours?" (an old early 70s Dodge stretch van.) Warren added, "I used to live in a trailer." Apparently it didn't matter if Kim knew anything about movies, it was a done deal. He offered to work for Miller for free, but Miller insisted on paying, and he has been working on Miller films for 29 years.

Aside from the expected extreme snowboarding and helicopter skiing in Canada or Alaska, we were treated to such oddities as rednecks doing fierce jumps and flips using snowmobiles, and then shooting skeet from them at the edge of cliffs overlooking a wilderness river. Then they jumped a snowmobile through a burning outhouse. One of the guys pulled a Moose carcass out of the deep freeze and bit into its head. He calls it "Bush Sushi". But who says Rednecks don't recycle, even if need exceeds altruism? He paused to collect $224 from the bottle depot an endeavor earned in 15-cent increments.

We also got samplings of the life of a batch of 12 year old snowboarders called "the Smalls" of Mammoth Mtn, CA. One kid, 14, joked that he had to carry an airline-assigned badge that said "unaccompanied minor" on it, and then reported to his coach when they were reunited, "Thank God you're here. They were making me a pedophile magnet !"

On the first day of the shooting, someone grabbed and ran with their camera bag enclosing a $25,000 Arri SRII camera and $8000 in lenses. As soon as the rest of the crew was radioed, one of the other camera men zoomed in on the crowd with the powerful zoom lense, and captured the equipment grabber running. With a megaphone, someone yelled, "drop the bag, you're surrounded by police!" It wasn't true, but the thief dropped the bag.

One guy in the film wears a wing suit that turns him into a sort of flying squirrel. He flies with a snowboard and sort of skips down snowfields off precipitous faces. He just interprets the terrain and comes up with was to interact, going airborne when encountering 2000 ft. cliffs. At the end of his segment, he was asked tongue-in-cheek why he isn't dead yet. He countered with, "Well, I eat right and exercise."

They also filmed in Dubai, apparently the Las Vegas of the Middle East. Apparently they have a year-round indoor ski area. Everything is in reverse, we ski outside and come inside to warm up, they ski inside and go outside to 77 degrees to warm up. One of the Canadian skiers there was lectured because he was walking around with his shorts rolled up, and warned because he could have been sent to jail for showing a lack of modesty.

Another sequence was shot at the sculptured house at Genesee, CO where the odd Woody Allen movie was shot back in the 70s. The house looks like a giant stretched egg pod up on the mountain ridge. One guy strapped on a jetpack for a gag shot, one of the few people in the world who know how to fly the thing. You have to wear earplugs within 50 feet of the thing. In the film you could tell that the rocket wash blew apart these huge paving stones used in the patio, tossing it a couple feet, and it looked like bits of tinfoil were shooting out the exhaust. Funny.

When they shot in Japan, they were amused with "English attempted" bumper stickers, such as one showing a leaping trout, and the words: "The wild nature glow up the land." Another button slogan read "Don't worry, be smile." and a store clerk at a shoe store had an English one that said "May your satisfaction sincerely be aroused by me." Apparently with Japans 300-plus ski areas, copies amounts of snow that stays around all season, and some of the best tree skiing around, it's a great place to film. At night, they light up the whole ski hill with halogen lights.

The movie tickets were a great welcome from Dad, and he put up with the loud punky music like a trooper. The downtown Denver walking mall was a Christmas lit party when we exited the 14 story parking garage. Dad got disoriented and we turned out of the garage the wrong way, and entered a one-way the wrong way driving on the shuttle train tracks. Dad said, in my years of working downtown, I sure got turned around this time ! We corrected our errors and finally got Dad's fire engine red VW Golf headed in the right direction.

The trip went from 68 degrees walking the Boulder Mall to a lunch at Dad's favorite Golf Country Club sports bar as the clouds loomed and we were headed for a 22 degree night. I loved it. A little bit of sticker shock when we visited the ski shop were Dad part-timed about five years ago: Most skis were retailing in the mid-thousand dollar range. Yikes. It has become the sport of the wealthy. Thankfully the ski swaps in ski towns of American live forever.

Met up with my high school buddy Tom, where we headed to Denver's Fresh Seafood Company where I presented him with a fly fishing beer mug. Joyce and I took brisk early morning walks in Denver, and I read and completed a book called Instant Karma, the heart and soul of a ski bum by 49 year old Wayne Sheldrake.

Here's a sampling: "Larry skied on brown skis, plain brown skis. He liked steep runs, near rocks, as steep as staircases and steeper.... all variety of chutes. Chutes that zig-zagged between rocks, chutes that swizzled around rocks, chutes that hopscotched rocks, chutes that dived below cliffs. I finally refused above a sliver of snow narrow as dental floss that plunged into a crack no wider than a turnstyle.

"No way," I said.
"It's been skied," he nodded.

Here's another excerpt:

Here was the time I really wanted to die. Both bones of my lower right leg snapped like driftwood, completely through. I went into shock. It was almost dark by the time the patrol got me off the mountain. Everyone was freaked out by the amount of pain I was in, and they knew getting the stiff plastic boot off my foot without making it worse would be almost impossible. The could also see that I was horrified. They tried so hard not to hurt me. When the boot did come off, the muscles in my lower leg spasmed, and my whole foot squirmed grotesquely toward my knee.

As I was attended to, I realized that the small room was crammed with people who stayed late after work to help me. This had a profound affect on me. These wild-assed renegades I'd only known for a few months really cared about me. As I was slid into the back of the old Datsun wagon for the long dark journey to the hospital, the driver kept asking me, "Are you okay?" I wasn't crying because of the pain. I was crying because I never felt so loved. It was four hours before I got morphine...."

(Wayne started college as a music vocal major, and went on to work as a Wolf Creek Ski School Instructor, where he was hired to teach at $36 a day plus $1 a head.)

Here's another portion, Jim, that way you can get the gist of the book without committing:

"I took a year and a half, three thousand dollars in long distance bills, several trips to Texas, and a proposal to get Vreni back to Colorado. Ske knew she was coming back to marry a ski bum, but I'd gone straight. I'd finally bought car insurance, earned a Colorado Teaching Certificate, and settled into respectable work, teaching literature, writing, speeach and drama to the sons and daughters of dry land farmers and migrants at a high school in a dust bowl town barely in Colorado, just twenty miles from the Kansas border, and not too far from the highest point in Oklahoma.

Every Friday night, we'd pack our 1985 VW Jetta, make the long drive, sleep in cheap motels, and ski from opening to closing Saturday and Sunday. I always thought of Wolf Creek with mixed emotions. It was my Normandy, site of difficult passage. Confident our toughest struggles were past, Vreni and her boys and I lived happily, day by day, paycheck to paycheck. Then there was a sign that something was seriously wrong..."

Anyway, Jim, to cap this all off, it has been a pleasure writing to you this Sunday. The author of this book is the son of the woman of my Dad's "golf course" affection, Marion Sheldrake. They are in some ways closer than my Dad's second wife Ann, yet they've never done the deed, nor do they plan do. Just great friends in their stages of life. Lunches only at her house. Dad reports it as "affectionately platonic" and for now, I believe him. Dad's met the author at Wayne's book signings, and had asked some great questions, as Marion reported back to Dad.

Alright, Jim, carry on. Will catch up with you once again. Tomorrow I pick up a load of artwork at a private guy's house in West Palm Beach, and with a partner drive an exclusive run to his new house in San Francisco. I haven't mapped out my route yet. No motels on the way out, easier on the way back. I'll see more of Texas than I want to see, and not enough of New Mexico. I'll slice though NV somewhere. Stories to come, I would expect.

Brad

What about sick leave banks for alcoholics and addicts?

Most of us know or probably have met someone who has suffered or is battling addiction and have seen those bad consequences. It’s inspiring when we see our friends start trying to get a grip on their hard-to-control problems by seeking out professional help. Hospitalization and rehabilitation though, are mighty expensive and sometimes insurance (if any is had) only covers a portion. This is where public and private employers can consider lending a helping hand.

Some workplaces already utilize sick-leave banks. A normal protocol to qualify for such programs starts with donating a small amount of your own sick time. This accrued, along with others creates a bank of days, which helps pay for colleagues who urgently seek our help. 

However, addiction is a delicate subject, considering anonymity, potential stigmas and such; but even so we have constructive ways to address this. Some employers use boards who vote on whether the sick person is justified or qualified in being granted some of their fellow employees donated sick-time. Many employers have policies that differ from others standards. Also, some people may want to donate and / or exclude donating some of their sick time, for under specific circumstances.

But this is still workable, and some of the solution may lie with utilizing a double-blind mechanism, which informally identifies various aspects of the ill candidate’s situation:  How bad off are they really? How long have they worked here, and what’s an approximate value of their institutional memory? How difficult will it be for us to replace him / her? What about practical statistics for potential relapse in their particular situation? Do they have close family? Etc. But never revealing their actual name, or at least following a standard that attempts to keep the recovering person’s name vague or obscured. (This might be impractical for smaller organizations.)

Undoubtedly, there are some aspects of using sick leave banks that I haven't considered, but I'd be interested in what readers thoughts are about the idea.  

~ ~ ~

I forwarded this idea with B, an Anonymous friend, who put it best: “We come together as a community, and as fellow employees in cohesive companies, we pull together often to help with so many issues beyond simpler impactful events, like a household fire. 

“So whether it's a child in a family with an expensive cancer treatment, or perhaps an employee suffering from bulimia, (such as the incredibly talented but struggling singer Karen Carpenter). Alcoholism, as with those also struggling from opioid addiction based on an injury, should fall in the same class of "worthy effort" categories. 

“Education would help eradicate those still harboring mistaken beliefs that those struggling with (the media infused temptation of alcohol) really do not want to get better. They want to work at it, and, once given fair time slots and resources to secure their chances of beating it, (plus not lose them as worthy employees doing a great job despite), how is alcoholism not in the subset of the other life challenges? I'm sure Karen did not want to end her life of music with organ shutdown, she just needed more educated, active intervention; perhaps her life could have been saved and we would have had 20+ more years of her amazing voice.”

Minimum Wage Raise in Increments is Best

 Mid-July 2019 draft

I recently met a fellow who adamantly claims that when minimum wages rise, prices for everything else will almost immediately double. I think he should do a little fact-checking. First, companies generally don’t want to drive themselves out of business. Prices for some businesses where lots of workers would be paid the new $12 an hour are more apt to raise their charges of some items by 5 to 10%, if at all.* Second; food, rent and utility costs didn’t double in any of the other 29 states who raised their minimums. 

It’s disappointing that instead of determining ways to encourage workers to use more empowerment, innovation, imagination and teamwork, some employers in anticipation of the $12 raise are focusing their energy on exaggerating how much this will hurt them, while looking to cut benefits, trim work hours, and seek exceptions or loopholes. (I do agree that an immediate $15 an hour would injure some companies.)

Indeed, it’s less of a societal failure when more of our industry leaders embrace the concept that higher wages usuallytranslate into better worker pride, stability and increased loyalty. Employers will be less likely to see costly worker turnovers when their staff receives something approaching a living wage. Maintaining experienced employees with institutional memories saves on training costs, lessens work errors, reduces paperwork and makes for safer and improved work atmospheres. 

Recently at my minimum wage workplace our paychecks were delayed due to an accounting error. For some this may seem like a minor nuisance, but for many of us, our anxiety level rose with the continuing uncertainty of when we might be paid. Concerned work colleagues started canceling weekend plans and worried about late charges for utilities, which affects credit ratings, etc. (Fortunately our checks showed up in the nick of time.)

Many people who have neverexperienced being absolutely broke don’t realize how significant a difference it is between having $300 versus owning next to nothing. Everything comes to a standstill.  Suddenly, fractured again and stigmatized, we don’t have enough to buy toothpaste and Raman noodles, and we ponder for hours on our day off whether to do laundry or save the last coins for work-bus fare. The minimum wage raise will help immensely with our efforts to get unstuck.

I think Gov. Wolf’s proposal to raise the wage to $12 and then yearly 50 cent increments is right on track, considering that we’re experiencing a good economy and that the raise would increase our tax base. Our hard-earned wages have not kept up with the inflation of the last ten years, and this long overdue increase would give us dedicated workers better chances to flourish and shine for our companies, for ourselves and families, as well as making us more capable of investing back into the present and future thriving Pennsylvania economies. 

JB

O Stone be not so

An imaginary roadside conversation in Stanley, Idaho in 2007 between two public wolf concerns of opposite polarities in palindromic fashion

Mr. G.: (brashly presenting himself for the first time): Madam, in Eden, I’m Adam

Ms. Stone (thinking): SOS EVE SOS

Mr. G.: O Stone be not so

Ms. Stone: (referring to pet wolfs) Step on no pets!

Mr. G.: Too hot to hoot?

Ms. Stone: Ma is a nun as I am.

Mr. G.: Y flow wolfy?

Ms. Stone: Kook!

Mr. G.: Level madam level!

Ms. Stone: Draw no evils deeds live onward

Mr. G. Draw o coward.

Ms. Stone Won’t lovers revolt now?

Mr. G.: O, had I nine more hero men in Idaho! 

Almost cut my hair today

Sometimes on stretches through the splendid Pennsylvania woods I start thinking of imaginative and improbable things. On a recent barefoot stroll my intuition started niggling about ticks and I worried about my long hair. Soon several found my skin and as I flicked them off, my arm hair rose in tingling dismay; remembering how insidious a hurt an untreated tick-bite can become. 

This reminded me of a passage in The Spiritual Nature of Hair by Deva Kaur Khalsa:[1]

 

 “Hairs are the antennas that gather and channel the sun energy or prana to the frontal lobes, the part of the brain you use for meditation and visualization. These antennas act as conduits to bring you greater quantities of subtle, cosmic energy.”

Indeed, hair works as sensory antennae, feeling and rigorously feeding dimensions of our sixth sense or minds eye. During the Vietnam War a secret psychological institute recruited long-haired Native American trackers and tested them on multiple field and perimeter-intrusion tasks. Then the psychologists paired two men together at a time who had received similar test scores, letting one keep his long hair, while administrating a crew-cut to the other. In each case, the evenly skilled trackers retook the tests and invariably the long haired men earned high scores, while the short haired men now failed the same tests in which they had previously scored high. 



Much later, an unnamed psychologist involved in the tests revealed a government document which recommended that “all Indian trackers be exempt from military haircuts.” In fact, it required that “trackers keep their hair long."



Suddenly the thought of my needing to pay for a shortwave crew-cut vanished. Instead, like an attuned 60’s hippy (yes, I’m about sixty!) I believe I’ll rely on my long-hair augmented ultra-sensitive tingling Spidey-sense to track, trap and tweeze these treacherous ticks for the rest of their season.

---

[1] https://www.quantumbalancing.com/spiritu-alhair.htm

Almost cut my hair today

1st draft

Sometimes on stretches through the splendid Pennsylvania woods I start thinking of imaginative and improbable things. On a recent barefoot stroll my intuition started niggling about ticks and I worried about my long hair. Soon several found my skin and as I flicked them off, my arm hair rose in tingling dismay; remembering how insidious a hurt an untreated tick-bite can become. 

This reminded me of a passage in The Spiritual Nature of Hair by Deva Kaur Khalsa: https://www.quantumbalancing.com/spiritualhair.htm

 

 “Hairs are the antennas that gather and channel the sun energy or prana to the frontal lobes, the part of the brain you use for meditation and visualization. These antennas act as conduits to bring you greater quantities of subtle, cosmic energy.”

Indeed, hair works as sensory antennae, feeling and rigorously feeding mysterious dimensions of our sixth sense or minds-eye. During the Vietnam War a secret psychological institute recruited long-haired Native American trackers and tested them on multiple field and perimeter-intrusion tasks. Then the psychologists paired two men together at a time who had received similar test scores, letting one keep his long hair, while administrating a crew-cut to the other. In each case, the equivalently skilled trackers retook the same tests and invariably the long haired men earned high scores, while the short haired men now failed the tests in which they had previously scored high. 


Much later, an unnamed psychologist involved in the tests revealed a government document which recommended that “all Indian trackers be exempt from military haircuts.” In fact, it required that “trackers keep their hair long."


Suddenly the thought of my needing to pay for a shortwave crew-cut vanished. Instead, like an attuned 60’s hippy (yes, I’m about sixty!) I believe I’ll rely on my long-hair augmented tingling Spidey-sense to track and trap the treacherous ticks for summertime’s remainder.
-->

Selected Music Playlist II

•  I Talk to the Trees - Clint Eastwood
•  Songs to Grow on - Woody Guthrie
• 30 Greatest Psychedelic Rock Songs 1966-68
• 500 Greatest
• Act Naturally
• Alan Parsons Project - Sirius/Eye In The Sky
• Alison Krauss-Gillian Welch - I'll Fly Away
• Allman Brothers - One Way Out - 1971
• ALONE AGAIN NATURALLY
• Another You - The Seekers 1965
• Árstíðir - Heyr himna smiður (Icelandic hymn) in train station
• Beatnik Mood Music
• Beatnix - Stairway To Heaven
• Begin the Benguine
• Big Balls in Cow Town - Asleep at the Wheel
• Birdman in Lisbon, Portugal
• Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling
• Boogie On Reggae Woman
• Brazen Little Raisen
• Bridge of Sighs - Robin Trower
• Caioneadh na Marbh - Lament for the Dead
• Can't find my way home
• Change your mind - Neil Young
• Cream - Deserted Cities of the Heart
• Dancing the Moonlight
• Danny Gatton - Sun Medley
• Dick Dale & The Del Tones "Misirlou" 1963
• Dino Valenti - Children of the Sun
• Dion "Abraham, Martin and John"
• Dixie Chicken - Little Feat
• elena somarè whistling casta diva
• Elwood Blues - Rubber Biscuit
• End of the Line - Traveling Wilburys
• Flash And The Pan - Walking In The Rain
• Flying Home - Lionel Hampton
• folk 60's 70's
• For A Few Dollars More - The Danish National Symphony Orchestra (Live)
• Freddie Freeloader - Miles Davis
• Garden of your Mind
• Glass harp-Toccata and fugue in D minor-Bach-BWV 565
• Go To Sleep You Little Baby
• God's Away on Business
• Gone Groups of the 60's
• Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues
• Graceland
• Green Grass and High Tides
• Green Onions
• Hendrix - Killing Floor
• Hot Rod Jalopy
• I Call Your Name - Ringo Starr w/ Traveling Wilburys
• In Memory of Elizabeth Reed
• Innocent when you Dream - Tom Waits
• It won't be wrong - Byrds
• James Gang - Walk Away - 1971
• Jimmy Castor Bunch Troglodyte
• John Coltrane - Equinox
• Lee Marvin - Wandering Star
• Let The Mystery Be - Iris DeMent H.Q.
• Little Bird, Little Bird, You are my little bird
• Little Wing - Stevie Ray Vaughan
• Me & Julio
• Mercury Blues
• Miles Davis - On The Corner
• Mister X - Ultravox
• Moody Bluegrass
• Mountain Dew - Flatt and Scruggs
• Mr. Blue Sky
• Mr. Sandman
• Munsters rare vocal version of theme song
• Neil Young archives
• Nick Pitera Sings Both Parts Of "A Whole New World"
• Obscure 60s Hits
• One Hit Wonders
• Original version with Chipmunks
• OUTASPACE
• Pete Drake & his talking steel guitar - "Forever"
• Pressed Rat and Warthog
• Private Idaho
• Rainy Days and Mondays
• RealjobinmHz South of the Border
• Robot - The Tornados
• Rockabilly Rockability - 2 hour compilation
• Rockin' Pneumonia and Boogie Woogie Flu
• Rocking out to the dead Herman Munster
• Rocky Racoon Dixieland Jazz Band version
• Run Run Rudolph - Chuck Berry
• Sailing
• Santana Supernatural
• Sharon Burch-Sacred Mountains
• Shaving Creme song
• Shenandoah - Peter Hollens (A Cappella)
• Smooth - Santana
• Some Girls - Alternate Takes
• Space Psychedelic Rock - 5 hours
• Space Race - Billy Preston
• Sugar Sugar - The Archies
• Superstition on Sesame Street
• Surf music compilation
• Sweet Georgia Brown w/ tractor on percussion
• Telestar - The Tornados 1962
• Tenderly - Chet Baker
• The Beatles - While My Guitar Gently Weeps
• The Big Heat - Stan Ridgeway
• The Chantay's - Pipeline (Lawrence Welk Show 5/18/63)
• The Claypool Lennon Delirium - The Court of the Crimson King (cover)
• The Lonely Shepherd - Zamfir
• The Soggy Bottom Boys - Man of constant sorrow
• The Traveling Wilburys " Inside Out " Multi-Camera- Take 1
• These Days - Nico
• Those were the Days
• Troglodyte - Jimmy Castor Bunch
• Ukulele Orchestra of GB - Shaft
• Uranium Fever - Elton Britt, 1955
• We are all connected
• When Queen Took ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ to Live Aid
• WHFS-FM Commercials by DJ Weasel
• While My Guitar Gently Weeps
• White Bird - It's a Beautiful Day
• Wild Mountain Thyme - The Byrds
• Will it go round in circles? - Billy Preston
• Willow weep for me
• Wipe Out! - The Ventures
• Witch Doctor -Ooh Eeh Ooh Ah Aah Ting Tang Walla Walla
• Wonderin' - Neil Young

Interesting observation from Ran Prieur this week

 http://www.ranprieur.com/

"July 1. So I've been watching the women's World Cup, and this year they're using VAR for the first time. It stands for video assistant referee, and almost everyone hates it. In theory it makes sure the calls on the field are right, but in practice, it breaks the flow the game, and it allows results to be influenced by things so insignificant that only the machine can see them.

Now goals can be won by drawing the slightest brush of a cleat in the box, or lost by being half an inch offside. The most dramatic defensive play in the game, the saved penalty kick, is now even more rare because the VAR can see the goalkeeper taking her foot off the line a tenth of a second early.

My position is, the rules must serve the game, not the other way around; and the purpose of the game is to be fun for players and audiences. That fun is being lost, because rules that were designed for soft human enforcement are being interpreted by hard machines.

Of course this goes way beyond sports, into our high-tech surveillance society. With machines always watching us, we have to spend a lot of mental energy conforming to rules that were not intended for such strict enforcement, everything from red light cameras to speech codes. 

Another rule change in world football, is what the refs look at when there's a handball in the box. They used to consider the player's intention, but now they've been instructed to ignore intention, and only rule on whether one physical object has impacted another. It's like we worship machines so much that we are turning ourselves into machines, devaluing any skill that humans have and machines don't. 

Imagine trying to manage a business, or get along with your friends, without ever considering intention. But that seems to be where we're headed. The Supreme Court used to consider the intentions of the authors of laws, but at some point they started to look only at the text. At about the same time, the same thing happened in literary criticism.

I think these trends are part of a larger social trend of disconnection, atomization, stripping away of context. I'm not sure what's behind that trend, but it has to be cyclical, and I'm looking forward to the counter-trend, adding context back."