Monday, September 28, 2020

"Buy Local" - some irony about that...

 The "buy local" philosophy is, on the surface, a noble thing to promote. Why support imported products when we can fill the pockets of those within a 50 or 100 kilometer radius, while at the same time reducing the carbon footprint of shipping goods from hither and yon. Globalism draws resources away from our local spheres of influence, economic independence, and local pride.

Additionally, produce and meats from other countries (apparently) do not have to pass the same stringent health standards such as hormone, antibiotic, and pesticide content as us Canadians do. Another consideration next time you don't see a Canadian source cited on that carton of milk or beef tenderloin at Costco.

Here's the rub. Some of the locals that tout "buy local" spend their winter months in Mexico, Barbados, Cuba, Europe, you name it. *Cough*... excuse me, but all that money spent in those foreign locations on restaurants, accomodations, entertainment, etc. is done so with our money that supported their "buy local" mantra. 

If the irony doesn't slap you in the face, read this again...

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Life Purpose Perhaps Uncovered...

Why Are We Here?

Biggest bognition of late:  I'm at my happiest when making other people happy: my silly jokes, my barbecue food, making people jovial in spite of all the pain in the world. Helping them forget their pain for a short time.

Like my beer making.  Or photography. When people go "Wow", I feel privileged I've helped them get there. We all need to get there... 

I guess I'm late to the party, of figuring out that we're all in service for and to each other.

Friday, July 17, 2020

Give credit where credit is due

This is circa 1992. I'm in this recording studio in Franklin, just outside Nashville on invitation from a music producer friend who said - quote "Hey Jim, come here for a week just to be a fly on the wall to see how an album is produced." So Adri and I and the kids pitched a tent on Billy Simon's property for a week (google him...).  I was a studio rat, absorbing the technical and creative aspects of this project, helping out here and there.  ("Hey dude - your mandolin is out of tune!" - Shit like that).

While Adri and Angela pitched our recently released tape "Daughter of Denim and Lace" to various A&R agents and distribution companies, I learned the ropes of a professional recording studio. Early in the setup, Don ran into a number of software errors in his DAW that he had never seen before. They spent hours troubleshooting, with no results. I'm thinking "These guys are the experts, I won't intervene..."   Don says, "Hey Jim. you're a computer guy, can you help out?"

We played around for a couple hours, with no resolve. I got the support line contact info from Don for his software/hardware DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) plug-in, and in about an hour of real-time troubleshooting figured out that the plastic shoulder of the physical DAW module was stopping it from being plugged in all the way. So not all contacts were making.. well - contact.

This was a vanity album project for a christian pentacostal dude, who after me fixing his technical glitch and saving him literally multiple hundreds of dollars, turned his face to the sky, started speaking in tongues thanking god for saving his ass.  Not a word of thanks to me, no mention in his liner notes for my help, though he went out of his way to thank Jesus.  The delusion is astounding.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

To anyone who identifies as a Christian and thinks I'm going to hell:

I've had it with friends from my past who still identify as Christian. I tried to maintain contact with one particular person who at first was all-welcoming when I re-established contact with him a number of years ago. We debated back and forth about the foundation of our "isms", but the underpinning values of love and respect overshadowed those paradigms. Until a couple weeks ago.

I informed him of my Mom's passing, and all he did was preach at me about hellfire; that I read too much Dawkins; that I was a shell of a man angry at god; that according to my beliefs, I'll be nothing but worm food in contrast to his eternity in paradise. This, on the day of Mom's funeral. To exit this toxic "friendship", I permanently cut off any communication with him, which was difficult considering my grief. But a good thing considering his verbal abuse, misunderstanding of me, and his need to be right in his condemnation of an "apostate". I had to grieve a loss of what I thought was a life long friend.

Religion is dangerous in the hands of a proud narcissist. Others from my past who also exited narrow minded faith in fairy tales had to also cut off friendship with this same individual. Having to do it the day I buried my mother drove home the resolve to not tolerate people who believe that a sky daddy will reward them for such behaviour.

No, I'm not painting all Christians with the same brush, but if there's one thing I've learned from my foray into and out of Christianity is that 99% of the ones that take it seriously - by default - have an elitist attitude that they have a corner on the truth. It's why they believe...

So, to you proud Christians that think you're holier than thou, fuck off and die.