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Another weekend day, another sidetrack, this time into the singles pile. Both Fran and myself amassed a load of 45 rpm singles over the years, and while talking to a friend on the phone, the topic went from concert promoters to Talking Heads- I have no idea how, I think it was part of a discussion of the unique sound of the band's rhythm section- and when Johnny brought up the fact that the band was a trio (sans Jerry Harrison) before the release of the first album, I remembered that I have a rarity- a picture sleeve single for "Love Goes To Building On Fire" from 1977, a promo single released by Sire in the waning days of that label's distribution deal with ABC, and it happens to show the band as a trio.

Here ya go- imagine what they were thinking at the time:

(Picture Credit: Jimmy deSana)

And the other side:

And the label:

Between the two of us, Fran and I ended up with some cool rarities on vinyl- a lot of UK punk/new wave 45s from back in the day, a very strange collection of albums including the one where the 1969 New York Mets sing- and we still have 'em all. Many are in decent shape. We've carried them around with us from Philadelphia (me) and Miami (Fran) to Jersey to Philadelphia to Long Island to Los Angeles, and they've been a consideration in home decorating- where do we put the records? And in what?- but there's one catch: we don't even have a functioning turntable, At least, I don't THINK we do. We have an old Technics turntable circa 1980-something, but it's not hooked up and there's a layer of crud on it. I've promised several times to clean that thing off, but haven't gotten around to it. Maybe I should. Maybe this time, I'll be motivated to get that thing working and even hook the receiver up to my computer and rip them onto the hard drive so we can actually listen to the things.

Maybe. Or I can go buy a new one. I'd save myself the trouble and just download everything, but this is not the kind of stuff you find on iTunes or even through PtoP. Especially not the New York Mets singing "You Gotta Have Heart" off key. I think I've given myself a new project.

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No time- running behind on deadline.

This'll have to do:

Told ya.

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It was Opening Day at Dodger Stadium, and life begins anew.

Yeah, yeah, new hope, fresh start, the promise of Spring and all that, George Will planting begonias in Roger Angell's yard, whatever your pleasure- Opening Day is still fun, like seeing an old friend after a long absence. I could even overlook the pre-game Lifehouse concert. You remember Lifehouse, the band that did "Hanging by a Moment," and... er... did we say "Hanging by a Moment?" That's what they performed at the park, with the volume turned waaaaay down halfway through for some unexplained reason. Fine with me. Besides, they set the band up in deep center, where nobody could actually see them to confirm that it was indeed Lifehouse and not Lifehousemania ("Not the original, but an incredible reproduction!"). Here they are:

And then the teams were introduced and "God Bless America" was sung and the anthem was sung and rockets blown up and doves released...

...but then there was something else. See that diagonal mark in the sky to the left of the right field scoreboard? It's hard to see, but if you get REAL close to the monitor, it's the tiny gray smudge...

That's when the entire crowd muttered variations of OMG and WTF and Holy S, as the stealth bomber swept right into the park.

I didn't get the best shot, when the thing flattened out as it scraped the top of the park over our heads, but everyone had the same reaction that Rick Monday had: "Goosebumps," he said, pointing to his right arm, "that gave me goosebumps." They've been flying the stealth over major events for a few years now, like at the Rose Parade, but it gets you every time.

I spent the day eating, schmoozing, and hanging out, and I guess I should (WARNING: Here Come the Plugs!) give a link to the fine benmaller.com and the Tony Bruno Show at KMPC (AM 1540 The Ticket)/Los Angeles and, of course, KFWB, home of the Dodgers and Tom Boman and David G. Hall. Make sure to patronize all of these fine establishments, early and often.

And it was a fun, sloppy game with a lot of scoring early and a furious Dodger last-minute comeback, and even the SIG-Alert on the way home couldn't dampen my mood. I mean, when you've just been in the middle of this:

...how can you come away feeling bad? (Okay, if you're a Giants fan, maybe....)

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Someone got shot on the Harbor Freeway. Again.

How DARE they interfere with my ability to get to the stadium!

So I'm not going to make it to the Dodger game tonight. It could be worse. And it's all because of the Hell Freeway. Consider these stories from the last few weeks:

March 27: Eight car pileup, followed by fistfight between drivers.

March 29: Student shot and killed while he drove.

April 13: Shooting. Broad daylight again.

Am I worried? Hell, yes. That's my only reasonable route to downtown, to the ballpark, to a lot of places. Whether this is random or not, it's scary.

Think that maybe, just maybe, there ought to be police cameras on this road? Constant police cruising? Wouldn't that make some sense?

But we're probably all on our own.

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As if the freeway freakery isn't enough... and adding today's thing-through-the-windshield incident on the 5 freeway...

I'll have to be in a hotel next week, and, just in time for that, this happens in Paris, as if I'm not paranoid enough as it is.

You can't live life afraid of everything, but it's not like there's no reason to do so.

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No shootings on the 110 today, no real reason for me to do what I did, which was to make it all the way to San Pedro on the way up to Dodger Stadium and think, you know, I'm tired, my sinuses hurt like hell, I... just can't imagine spending the evening at the ballpark tonight. And I turned around and here I am.

The game's on the monitor here- Jeff Kent just hit one into the left field boxes, and now Milton Bradley just went back-to-back with a shot over the left field wall, and I'd like to be there but I just don't have the energy tonight. I'd rather not make the drive; I'd rather be home here with Fran and Ella taking it easy. The long drive to Vegas is Sunday, I gotta clean the office and pack and then drive up there and experience the annual Two Busiest Work Days of the Year, and as much as I love the ballpark and the people there and the Dodger Dogs and Nancy Bea at the organ, I... need... sleep.

And that's what I'm gonna do.

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If, indeed, "Jack-FM" means, as they say, "we play what we want," I suppose they want to play Phil Collins. I swear, every time I put either the Jack in L.A. or the Jack in San Diego on, I'm never more than three songs away from Phil Collins. This morning, I hit 100.7 Jack-FM from San Diego on the Walkman while running and within 30 seconds, I got "Throwing it All Away," a horrible Genesis song which has been stuck in my mind all day.

Damn you, Jack. Damn you all to Hell.

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