Do you play charades? Growing up in a show biz family, I heard stories about legendary “charades” performances from Hollywood’s heyday. Like the time Gene Kelly acted out Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown by running into the room, launching into a baseball slide and simply holding up three fingers.

My family played Relay Charades which differs from normal charades. Essentially, every player is asked to arrive with a themed list of 10 or so topics (Al Pacino films, Coldplay songs, novels with the word “day” in the title, etc.). All players are then assigned to one of two teams, and each team is positioned away from the other in its own room or space. Equidistant from both teams, is a moderator who will relay a list of topics for each team to act out. Play begins when the moderator gives Player 1 from both teams the first topic. They race back to their rooms to act out the topic to their team. Once the team calls out the topic, Player 2 races back to confirm its correctness to the moderator. If correct, the moderator then hands out the second topic. Player 2 then races back to his room and begins to act it out… and so on and so forth until all 10 topics have been answered correctly. The team that finishes first wins that round. During the course of the evening, all players will be given the opportunity to be the moderator and to read from their own list. Still with me?

What makes Relay Charades particularly awesome is that at some point a member of your team will uncover the nature of the theme. All of a sudden the game speeds up tenfold, becoming rapid fire. Using the Al Pacino film theme as an example - Let’s say Player 1 acts out Dog Day Afternoon and Player 2 acts out Scent of a Woman. You can just about guarantee that when Player 3 arrives with the 3^rd topic, he will be greeted by team members screaming out other Pacino films like Godfather, Serpico, Scarface, Scarecrow, and so forth. The secret is in creating themed lists that are initially cryptic but once revealed offer enough awareness to generate some passionate responses.

For instance, what’s the common thread in this assortment of names? George Gershwin, Frank Sinatra, The Cure, John Lennon, Billie Holiday, Carole King, Cole Porter, and the Cardigans.

Give up? Then meet Kat Edmonson, a 25 year old Austin native, who on her debut album has the temerity to cover songs that were made popular by the aforementioned  legends.

With an intriguing voice that recalls Blossom Dearie, Phoebe Snow and Inara George, Edmonson breathes new life into some very familiar songs; Summertime, Night & Day and Angel Eyes. But it’s on lesser known gems like… wait for it… Charade, where Ms. Edmonson really makes you sit up and listen.

Over Kevin Lovejoy’s elegant and sparce arrangement; piano, percussion and Eric Revis’ base line weave a slow, sensuous pulse, Kat stretches out her phrases, embuing each word with significance. Somehow she is able to express wistfuless along with highly extracted lust. If this were wine, it would be made from intense mountain fruit, grown in stressful soil that causes vines to struggle to survive let alone ripen to create a juicy grape crop. Because of its complexity, I'm adding it to the cocktail mix. But should a certain someone linger longingly, beware.

Now click on the clip to your left to compare it with the original, written by Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini as the title track for the Stanley Donen film starring Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. Completely different. With its percussive intro and "Bondish" guitar riff, this screams 60's. While lush, it eschews heat, remaining cool to the touch, framing the main motif of this classic romantic thriller. Side note, the screenplay for Charade, written by Peter Stone, is considered by many to be one of the best scripts ever filmed. Take a look at it here.

A final note. Kat made a really charming and inspirational video called Be The Change during the last presidential campaign. I think she's going to be around for awhile - maybe long enough to be the subject of a Charades' list.

Spring is a time for renewal, rebirth, even resurrection. Streams swell from the extra runoff from melting winter snow, new plant growth "springs forth" and a whole bunch of Cinderellas try to punch their ticket to the big dance. 

Spring is also a metaphor for the start of better days, something we could all use in these uncertain times. So with that in mind I offer a set list of spring related songs.

Beginning with Appalachian Spring, Aaron Copland's massive Suite for Ballet (which actually has nothing to do with the season, rather taking its name from a line in Hart Crane's long poem, The Bridge) and finishing with a lovely rendition of Jobim's Waters of March by John Pizzarelli and Rosemary Clooney, the set includes a bit of everything and should be the perfect antidote for toxic bank assets and pontificating congressmen.

Except, as I put this list together I started to see another side of spring - one that wasn't all sunshine and lollypops. Sure love was in the air, but oftentimes for someone else. A perfect example is Rodgers & Hart's, Spring is Here, performed here achingly by Frank Sinatra.

During the Capitol years from 1954 to 1960, Sinatra and long time arranger-conductor Nelson Riddle virtually created the concept album with upbeat, swinging LPs like Swing Easy, Songs For Young Lovers, and Songs for Swinging Lovers. But while Sinatra is justly celebrated as the premiere interpreter of romantic ballads, I've always found solace in the darker torch songs on albums such as Wee Small Hours and Close To You. Perhaps because he battled depression for years, he had an innate understanding of the emotional wasteland caused by love gone astray.

In 1958 they recorded the groundbreaking, Sinatra Sings For Only The Lonely,  where they plumb the depths of lonliness and despair on 14 flawless tracks including Spring Is Here. Remember this is Sinatra, the ballsy street kid from Hoboken, the leader of the Rat Pack, the Chairman of the Board, allowing us an intimate window into his very vulnerable soul. Listen to the deep, amber tones he gets in the lower register. And then, there's the phrasing: holding onto a note here, moving quickly through the next line, letting the listener in on his heart's inner monologue. It's honest, brutal and magnificent!

You can download the entire set list by clicking on any of the songs below:

Spring 2009:

Appalachian Spring - Aaron Copland
April In Paris - Ella & Satchmo
April the 14th, Part 1 - Gillian Welch
Easter Parade - Dick Hyman
A Fine Spring Morning - Blossom Dearie
I'll Remember April - Charlie Parker
It Might As Well Be Spring - Blossom Dearie
Joy Spring - Clifford Brown
On Hearing The First Cuckoo in Spring - Frederich Delius
One Morning in May - James Taylor
Paris in the Spring - Michel Legrand
Some Other Spring - Billie Holiday
Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most - Ellis Marsalis
Spring Is Here - Frank Sinatra
Spring Song (V. Semernin) - Alexander Mosolov
There'll Be Another Spring - Dianne Reeves
They Say It's Spring - Blossom Dearie
Up Jumped Spring - Frank Morgan
A Velvet Affair - Mel Torme
The Four Seasons (Spring) - Vivaldi
Waters Of March - John Pizzarelli & Rosemary Clooney

There is so little originality in the world that when we lose someone like Blossom Dearie, who passed away last month at the age of 82, the void is palpable. Her voice was an exuberant breath of spring and sunshine and everything sweet.

Listen to Doop-Doo-De-Doop (A Doodlin’ Song) from her wonderful second album on Verve, Once Upon A Summertime. Written by Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh, it just bounces along on spritely clouds of love.  In lesser hands the nonsensical lyrics “... who, go together, bet your boodle, like the apples in a strudel-doo,” would come across as trite and forced, but with Blossom’s impeccable phrasing and innate romanticism, they charm their way into your heart. Working in quartet format with guitarist Mundell Lowe and the sturdy duo of Ray Brown on bass and Ed Thigpen on drums, this song reminds me of long ago rainy afternoons, Sunday papers, a warm fireplace and the face of the one you love; happy, secure and content. As my mother used to say, if this doesn’t put a smile on your kisser, then I suggest you rethink the botox injections.

For your additional listening pleasure, I’ve assembled a five-pack of Blossom which you can pick up here courtesy of Ziddu. As the lady says, “why don’t you join the group, it’s better than being a party poop.”

Had a Kennedyesque moment on Oscar Sunday. There I was, all bundled up, walking along the El Porto shoreline under gray, cloudy skies, the surf crashing and foaming without a care in the world, and me contemplating how to solve the economic meltdown and negotiate our way out of all conflicts in the middle east.

Too much? Okay, maybe I was just wondering if Viola Davis would actually win the Best Supporting Actress role for her short, but wrenchingly honest performance in John Patrick Shanley’s adaption of his own play, Doubt.

In either case, it was one of those singular Southern California moments that we often take for granted; Oscar Sunday where the "Royals" prance about, bosoms bursting bountifully out of their donated gowns, while the "civilians" (seriously, this is the term I heard growing up for anyone not in show business) squeal and fantasize that they too can be "just like Mike" if they shoot up their lips with enough collagen (please, somebody's gotta explain this freakish phenomenom to me).

Growing up out here in the "biz," the Academy Awards were a big deal in my family. Every year my father would throw an Oscar party where clients and industry types would crowd into his apartment, fill out their ballot, marvel at his chopped chicken liver which was always sculpted into some iconic mold (one year it was the mountain from Close Encounters of the Third Kind) and munch on the assorted sandwich platter from Nate'n Al's (pastrami, turkey, salami, ham, all cut neatly into thirds).

I thought this year’s show was easily one of the best since my childhood. While Hugh Jackman won’t make me forget the glory days of Carson or Hope, I thought his brand of “old school” talent (opening number aside) was inspired. While our fascination with celebrity knows no bounds (cutting to Brangelina when Jennifer came out… really?), I came away from this show with a renewed love of “the cinema” and the craftsmen that toil so hard to create these inspired images.

It was 1979 when I first heard of Tommy Newman who was playing a dingy, rock club in Venice with his new wave band, The Innocents. Since then, he's made quite a name for himself composing incredible scores for such films as The Road to Perdition, The Shawshank Redemption, Little Children, American Beauty, Six Feet Under and this year's nominated film, Wall-E. However, it's his score for Revolutionary Road that haunts me. Listen to the end title track, as Newman mines his own brand of Glass-influenced minimalism. Using a simple, repetitive structure that threatens to break through to a glorious conclusion, it hammers home the theme of a young suburban couple who initially feel they are destined for great things only to realize that they are neither unique nor special and that the "hopeless emptiness" of their neighbor's lives is their lot as well. Hooray for Hollywood!

This post comes courtesy of Karen Schwarz, the wife of my sister- in-law’s 1^st cousin… I know, take a deep breath. Now exhale and read a little story that I found lovely and touching. I hope you will find it so as well.

Romancing the Brisket by Karen Schwarz

This Valentine’s Day I’m making a brisket dinner for my family.  The recipe I use is from an old family friend, Ruth Silverman, of Gloversville, NY.  I know brisket doesn’t sound like Valentine’s Day fare, but after reading up a little on food history and asking Ruth a few questions, I learned that her recipe, which traveled for 96 years and logged over 5,000 miles, is actually a very romantic story.   Here’s what I mean.

Get your world map out and put your finger on Hungary. 

That’s where Ruth’s brisket got its start, in the family of her mother, Helen Schwartz. Helen was born into modest circumstances in 1898, when for families like hers, beef was a luxury.  In fact, it was only when an old dairy cow met with the butcher, that they might get a brisket. The brisket is a big tough plank of muscle that covers the breast bone and has to be cooked for hours to make it tender. Helen’s family probably added to their pot of hot water the standard Eastern European seasonings -- onions, garlic and paprika.

Now go back to the map and bring your finger from Hungary, across Europe and the Atlantic to North America, and locate Gloversville, New York, which is just northwest of Albany.

In 1914, when the 16 yr old Helen made that journey, Gloversville was the world capital of glove manufacturing. 

There she fell in love with Harry Neivert, from Poland.  They married and had 3 daughters:  Beatrice, Molly, and Ruth.  Helen no longer had to wait to get a brisket, and she added ingredients that were not available in Hungary: brown sugar, garlic powder and canned tomato sauce and beef broth.  

Now we get real romantic. …. When Ruth turned 21, she defied her parents and traveled to Gulfport, Mississippi --- to elope.  It was 1944, and her fiancé, Air Force co-pilot Barrett Silverman, left for Europe days after they were married. Ruth waited and worked in a battery factory.   When World War II ended, Barrett came home and they started a family.  Ruth made brisket, and added to her Mom’s recipe ---the 1940s food sensation:   onion soup mix!

I met Ruth in 1987 when I was dating her friend’s nephew. We talked about food and when I married the nephew, she gave me the brisket recipe. I have since added my own touches:  a cup of red wine and a very romantic… blender.   Bear with me here.  After the meat is cooked, I put the pot of vegetables, broth, tomato sauce and wine in my garage for several hours.  The fat rises and forms a waxy orange seal that I lift right off with a spatula. Underneath is a dark gelatinous sludge, which will be transformed into the world’s finest gravy by the aforesaid blender. It’s an Osterizer Supreme and my parents got it as a wedding gift, 58 year ago.

Ruth’s brisket fuels my family’s furnace.  My 15 year old son, Jack, puts away 8 slices at dinner.  It’s bitter cold at 7:30 the next morning, when I drop him off at school for jazz band practice. But he is ready to go. As I pull away, I picture Jack tuning up his guitar.  His signature song is All of Me, which was an immediate hit when it came out in 1931. I imagine Helen dancing to it in her kitchen in Gloversville with her three little girls. If that’s not romantic, I don’t what is.

Written by Gerald Marks and Seymour Simons, All of Me has been recorded by over 500 artists including all the usual suspects but performed memorably on an episode of Sanford and Son by Redd Foxx with Scatman Crothers accompanying him on guitar. In 1999, Woody Allen added it to the score of his wonderful homage to 30's jazz, Sweet and Lowdown, starring Sean Penn as the mythical Emmett Ray. Arranged by longtime Allen musical partner, Dick Hyman, this brisk version features Howard Alden on guitar, and is sung by Carol Woods. It's played so irrepressably that one can almost forget how mournful the lyric is. Note first the marvellous interplay between Alden and Ken Peplowski on clarinet. Then note the wonderful break where they downshift gears into Peanut Vendor, a popular Cuban rumba also from 1931. Crisp and bright, bursting with juicy red fruit, It would work wonderfully at any Sunday barbeque or even better, as the upbeat antidote on the treacly sweet Valentine's Day mix.

What a day it was. At times giddy, frightened, ecstatic, mournful, but most often proud and grateful, today's events in Washington DC capped off an amazing past few days where I felt and did things I would never have believed, including the building of a sand dune at the Ballona Creek Wetlands on our new National Day of Service.

A few of the musings from this glorious day.

Dan Quayle doesn't remotely look like a Kennedy - wonder how he spends his time?

Ali! Ali! Ali! The Greatest is shuffling with dignity. Those “Obama Girl” buttons are cool.  What was in the boxes that put Cheney in a wheelchair?

“41” is limping noticeably – why do I like Barbara Bush?

Man, when the Clinton’s came out you could see a visible wave move through the mall as the crowd roared its approval. Is it me or is Teddy starting to look a lot like "Honey Fitz"?

You’d think the moving van that is loading at the White House would have some sort of branding. George W. looks like a leper - no one wants to get near him! What’s the deal with the playing cards with the President’s faces on them? How many cameras is MSNBC shooting with – they got angles everywhere.

The Pomp & Ceremony of this is just fascinating. The 1^st lady of soul is bringing it.

Why is it that “the Lord” always gets such a good seat at these sort of events - who’s his ticket broker - must be "my man, Barry"?

Panning the crowd as Obama walks out – it’s like the scene in LOTR when Aragorn is crowned King.

Gotta say that Joe Biden came prepared and knows his oath. With Yo-Yo-Ma and Itzhak Perlman playing Copland’s Appalachian Spring (A Simple Gift), culture is making a big comeback! I am humbled by the possibilities.

Reverend Lowery – what a voice.

Obama has a face made for Mt. Rushmore. Man, I’m even getting teary eyed at Pepsi’s latest campaign.

I wanted to put together an inauguration mix that could sum up the many moods I felt. You can download the tracks here courtesy of  "You Send It". And for god's sake, pop some bubbles and thank your lucky stars for letting you savor this moment. 

America the Beautiful – Ray Charles
Strike Up The Band – Dick Hyman
A Ray Of Hope – The Rascals
Chill Out (Things Gonna Change) – John Lee Hooker
Oh, Happy Day – Edwin Hawkins Singers
I’m So Proud (Medley) – Todd Rundgren
He’s Misstra Know It All – Stevie Wonder
Happy Day – Talking Heads
We Are Each Other – The Beautiful South
Shiny Happy People – R.E.M.
Beautiful Day – U2
American Symphonette No. 2 – Morton Gould
Get Happy – Benny Goodman
Hallelujah – Django Reinhardt
Appalachian Spring (Shaker Melody) – Aaron Copland
Better Git It In Your Soul – Charlie Mingus
Nothin’ Can Change This Love – Sam Cooke
Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley
Feel It (In The Air Tonight) – Naturally 7
Hold On (Change Is Coming) – Sounds of Blackness
We Are All Alone In This Together – Graham Lindsay
It’s All Right – Stevie Winwood

The situation: You’re throwing an end-of-year party on the first weekend in January (don’t ask) for 60+ guests, ranging in age from 18 to 86, with diverse representation from every race, religion and gender (hey, is metrosexual a gender). It’s gonna be cold, it might even rain, and to top it off (not that I’m name dropping, mind you) “the most interesting man in the world” RSVP'd yes.

The challenge: Come up with a music tapestry that keeps them around until the 4 gallons of beef stroganoff and every last “greek seasoned” drumstick is polished off.

The solution: Invite your friends to participate in building the set list.

I asked for a couple of songs that “kept you alive in 2008” and here’s what I got back:

Brian Nash (Trick or Treat), Rihanna (Pour Some Sugar On Me), Prince (Crimson and Clover), Cowboy Junkies (Sweet Jane), My Morning Jacket (Touch Me I'm Going To Scream), Bowie (Queen Bitch),  Blur (Tender), Blink 182 (What’s my age again), Coldplay (Lost), Counting Crows (A Long December), Metallica (The Day That Never Comes), T-Baby (It’s So Cold in the ‘D’), 1200 Techniques (Karma), Killers (Human), Fiona Apple (Extraordinary Machine), Plain White T’s (Hey There Delilah), John Williams (Star Wars Theme), Foo Fighters (Times Like This), Neil Diamond (Sweet Caroline), William Gallison (Taking It Back With Barack), Esperanza Spalding (I Adore You), Gnarls Barkley (Crazy), Tracy Chapman (Talking ‘Bout A Revolution), Jose Feliciano (Light My Fire), Flipsyde (Flipsyde), Radiohead (Weird Fishes/Arpeggi), Marcos Valle (The Face I Love), Spearhead (Hole In The Bucket).

As you can see, we’ve got a bit of everything here which can lead to some rather jarring transitions. That’s why you need a couple of tracks that transcend genre to bring you in and out of any transition. I call these tracks Mutant Genre Crisis Avoiders (if you've got a better name, I'm all ears). Here are a few of my favorites:

Louis Armstrong (Stardust), Jacqui Naylor (Miss You), Michel Legrand (Doubting Thomas from Thomas Crown Affair soundtrack), Brad Mehldau (When It Rains), Giulia y Los Tellarini (Barcelona), John Barry (The Mooche from Cotton Club soundtrack), Django Reinhardt (I Got Rhythm), Beach Boys (Let’s Get Away For Awhile)

I like to work in 4 or 5 song sets, within which you can play around in a given genre or mood. For instance, this five works well: Sufjan Stevens (Jacksonville), J.J. Cale (Crazy Mama), John Butler Trio (Nowhere Man), Wilco (Kamera), and the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss rendition of Fortune Teller. From there, I use one of my MGCAs; Pops doing Stardust which opens up a mini-jazz set of Billie Holiday (Stars Fell on Alabama) and Bud Powell (Ornithology). Staying with the jazz piano influence, I add Joe Jackson (Steppin’ Out) and from there build out an ascending set of melodic rock numbers with The Finn Brothers (Won’t Give In), Alex Lloyd (Beautiful), Dogs Die In Hot Cars (Celebrity Sanctum) and The 88 (Nobody Cares).

Once you put your working files together, listen to them a few times, playing around with the order  -sometimes you’ll find fascinating segues that you could never have predicted. And remember, at the end of the day, take it easy on yourself. After all, they’re your friends and they’ll love anything you do. And if they don’t, well you can always get yourself some new friends courtesy of Facebook or I’m In Like With You.

Closing The Divine Miss M, Bette Midler's 1972 debut album, the timeless Friends has everything that one came to expect from the sassy Bette; at times brassy, funny, bawdy, poignant, sexy and optimistic. The instrumentation and vocal harmonies are arranged by co-producer, Barry Manilow (who had yet to begin his solo career), and help carry the tune to its head - nodding, hand - clapping fade out.  Is it a classic? Hell, no. But it works in spite of its ridiculous lyric. It must be the old Spielberg adage "it works because it works."

"And I'm standing at the end of a real long road. And I'm waiting for my new friends to come.

I don't care if I'm hungry or freezin' cold, I'm gonna get me some of them. "

This one is dedicated to Steven Leslie Dale who deserved something better.

If you’re anything like me, the finish is so much harder than the beginning.  At any given time, I’ve got 3 books open, a couple of unfinished projects around the house, and at least two half-baked blog posts (you don’t wanna’ know how hard it was to go live with this one).  I’ve even begun to open a couple of bottles of wine at a time in order to decipher the subtle… well, that’s probably not a fair comparison because the wine always gets finished.

The point is we begin things with such high hopes only to watch as time, distractions and the inherent challenges of any given task wash away our resilience to complete the very thing we started so enthusiastically. That’s why I so admire those with the steely resolve who are able to finish well.

As a young teenager, I was hooked on track; my buddy Mac and I not only watched every track meet on television (and these were the days when they were televised just about every week), we often watched them live at the Coliseum or UCLA’s Drake Stadium. Ron Clarke, Kip Keino, Marty Liquori, Peter Snell, and the magnificent but ill-fated Jim Ryun were my idols.

We even held neighborhood “Olympics” where all the kids in the area would sign up for races and we’d hand out medals to the winners.

So it was when I was in the 7^th grade, we entered an open meet at the Jr. College, running against high school and college athletes. I entered the 880, a brutal half-mile sprint, and while I knew I wouldn’t win I was confident I’d be close. At the first turn, I was part of a small group that broke from the pack; damn, this wasn’t going to be so hard after all. By the end of the back straightaway I was gasping for air and sliding into last place. As I started the 2^nd and final lap, I was dead last, a good 20 yards behind the next runner. And it only got worse. Thank god for Mac who sensed what was going on and ran with me on the inside grass, exhorting me to finish. And finish I did, but not before experiencing the final humiliation. I was so far behind the other runners that they started the next race before I was done.

Did I learn something besides that I shouldn’t run the 880 against older guys? That day, no, it totally sucked. But later on I realized that it felt satisfying to finish what I’d started even if I was last. So I try to finish everything I start, regardless of how long it takes, concentrating on the process rather than the outcome. Like my first cheesecake (process was great, it tasted even better).

From Stephen Sondheim’s Pulitzer Prize winning musical, Sunday in the Park with George, comes Finishing the Hat, sung memorably by Mandy Patinkin. 

Listen to the perfect blending of voice, piano, strings and horns (god I’m a sucker for a French horn); the piano picking up the dot, dot, dot of Seurat’s pointillist style of brush stroking. And the insightful lyric, so honest about the cost involved in finishing the hat or the book, script, song, or any other intense individual endeavor (no, Twitter tweets don’t count).

"But the woman who won't wait for you knows
That, however you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out the sky,
Finishing a hat...
Starting on a hat..
Finishing a hat...
Look, I made a hat...
Where there never was a hat."

Add this to the wine country picnic mix and make a stop at Dean  & Deluca off Highway 29 in St. Helena.

Pick up some sliced Parano and salami, some dijon, a loaf of crusty sourdough and crack open a Rhone blend and then just marvel at the wonder of it all. But for god’s sake, leave room for dinner. You’ve still got to finish well.

Well my friends, Tattaglia may have been a pimp (more about this next week), but McCain has turned out to be nothing but a bell boy to the fundamentalist right wing of the Republican Party.

Any good will he may have had from his early days in the Senate has been completely squandered, leaving him a caricature of all he once may have stood for (I'm also getting a hint of an aging Bevis as well). And I started thinkin' (you betcha', I’m thinkin'), what does it feel like to compromise your moral code in order to win this job. And then these words courtesy of Pete Townshend came to me.

 

Bell Boy! I got to get running now.

Bell Boy! Keep my lip buttoned down.

Bell Boy! Carry this baggage out.

Bell Boy! Always running at someone's bleedin' heel.

You know how I feel, always running at someone's heel.

Some nights I still sleep on the beach.

Remember when stars were in reach.

I wander in early to work, spend my day licking boots for my perks.

From The Who’s 1973 masterpiece, Quadrophenia, comes Bell Boy. Take a listen to this sad tale of the “ace face”; the guy who used to set the paces, riding up in front of a hundred faces. This track features all the band’s hallmarks; fierce drumming by Moony, virtuostic bass playing by The Ox, Daltrey’s ballsy vocals and the raging guitar (both acoustic and electric) of Pete Townshend (good lord has there ever been a bigger sounding guitar than his) and is a staple on the workout mix.

And in the end, while it's hard to feel sorry for someone like the Maverick Bellboy, it is sad to see how this process corrupts and or mutates so many of our politicians as they try to bend each and every way to please all of the various factions that they need to win over. Is this really what the founding fathers wanted? Is this really the best we can do?