There seems to be some sort of technical gremlins playing amongst the innards of the main Ink 19 site. Do not adjust your set, the horizontal and the vertical are being controlled for you.

Thank you for your time and assistance (ha!)

I received the sad news this morning that a good friend of mine, of ours, passed away near dawn. This is written in tears.

Mike Gorff, at a crucial point in my life, became my good friend. My father had recently passed away, and Mike, under the guise of a mentor/handyman, guided me to a better place to be. As a co-worker at Byers Engineering, or as a handyman at various spots, Mike was always there, ready with a suggestion, a joke, or helping hand. He could concoct a solution to a problem that would make McGyver blush, would spot a dollar in a pile of wood laying on the side of the road. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, and surely one of the most decent.

As a boss, he guided me amid the briars of office politics with a steady hand- and he always had my back. He always had all our backs. It was who he was. Mike, in any given situation, had already out thought you, but always seemed genuinely interested in what you thought, and why. It made him a good manager, and a good friend.

In his other role as handyman, Mike kept me from freezing in that first lonely winter after my father passed. The furnace had died, and Mike was able to jury-rig a donated heater into my gas line, which allowed me to sleep without frost forming on my lips. He might literally have saved my life, I don’t know. He was ready at a moments notice with an offer of labor, the right tool, or a quicker, cheaper, “gonna last just as long as what they’ll sell ya for ten dollars down at Pep Boys”* answer to whatever question or calamity you might have.

As we grow older, we meet, by sheer longevity, more people. Some become friends, others merely names or acquaintances. But it seems we lose, almost totally by inertia, a few of those who have been the closest, or that we’ve known the longest. Although Mike and I haven’t spoken in years, I always had his number. I knew, no matter what, or whenever, Mike would be there if I called. I don’t want to forget that, or him.

Since the last time I spoke with Mike I, by sheer fluke, had occasion to work with his sister Candice at the CDC. Where Mike was reserved, Candice can make lightbulbs blink. But knowing them both, I can see a certain something akin in them. I am glad to have known both of them.

This comes in a week where an old friends mother, Audrey Lowe, also passed away. I played air guitar to Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Green River” with her son Whitney in their living room when I was in elementary school, and I learned nearly everything I know about the technical aspects of a guitar from her talented and lovely husband Wade. Audry, as an audiologist at the Veterans Hospital on Clairmont, watched over my father for a year and a half as he wasted away from AIDS upstairs from her office. She more than once helped me find him as he wandered lost about the hospital, and if you’ve ever been there, you know what that means. I am forever in her debt.

So overall, the point of all this? Hold those who deserve your attention close. Tell them, in some fashion, what they mean to you. Call them when you don’t hear from them for a few days.

But do something.

Because as Mike Gorff and Audrey Lowe taught me, it’s what we’re here for.

*Actual quote from Mike in my driveway, when he re-wired some errant engine part of a Ford pickup I had, using only the contents of my junk drawer and a dirty roll of electrical tape from the dash of his ancient brown pickup.

Pardon my sleepy eyes, but we were up late last night catching a sneak showing of the Martin Scorsese/Rolling Stones film “Shine A Light” and while a fuller review is to follow, some quick highlights:

Keith, sans guitar, delivering a moving “You Got The Silver” all the while looking like a demented porn store clerk

With former President Clinton and ain’t no way in hell you’ll ever be President Hillary in attendance, Buddy Guy and the lads driving home a raucous take on Muddy’s “Champagne and Reefer”

And what was the shocker for these ears, Mick and Christina Aguilera absolutely tearing up “Live With Me”. Hell, like most of us, I thought she was all boobs and backside, but that chick can sing, and sells it like Tina Turner, 2008 model.

A good time was had by all, once the flick finally started, delayed a half hour for some inane “hey, haven’t you guys moved out of your parents basement yet?” Guitar Hero tournament. Definitely check it out big screen, because like Marty’s previous rock flick “The Last Waltz”, this is expertly shot, and is loud as hell. And when its done, you’ll wonder exactly how in the hell those old men do it.

Now this is how to wind down a day:

What else has TTP been spinning recently? How about…

Porcupine Tree “Nil Recurring”, King Crimson “The Great Deceiver Live 1973-1974″, NWA “Straight Outta Compton”, Black Flag “Damaged” and the legendary Melvins with “A Senile Animal”.

What are you listening to?

US death toll in Iraq war hits 4,000

To find out who they were, where they came from, and how they died, go here.

Watched this excellent documentary this weekend:

From Pat Boone to Ice T, lawyers to linguists, provocative look at the power of a word.

Fuckin’ A.

“The first use of nuclear weapons must remain in the quiver of escalation as the ultimate instrument to prevent the use of weapons of mass destruction.” Five Western military leaders.

23/01/08 “ICH” — – I read the statement three times trying to figure out the typo. Then it hit me, the West has now out-Owellled Orwell: The West must nuke other countries in order to prevent the use of weapons of mass destruction! In Westernspeak, the West nuking other countries does not qualify as the use of weapons of mass destruction.

Paul Craig Roberts on The Brutal World

Bomb squad disarm vibrator

A bomb disposal squad was called out in Sweden to deal with a vibrating package - which turned out to be a sex toy.

The package was humming and vibrating suspiciously, so police took no chances and sent out a team of explosives experts.

JACK
Was–was it ticking?

SECURITY MAN
(to Jack)
Actually, throwers don’t worry about ticking ’cause modern bombs don’t tick.

JACK
Sorry? Throwers?

SECURITY MAN
Baggage handlers. But when a suitcase vibrates, the throwers have to call the police.

JACK
My suitcase was vibrating?

SECURITY MAN
Nine time out of ten, it’s an electric razor. But every once in a while…
(whispers)
…It’s a dildo. It’s company policy not to imply ownership in the event of a dildo. We use the indefinite article: “A dildo”. Never “Your dildo”.

JACK
I don’t own a –

Oscar Peterson passes away at 82.

Peace out ya’ll.