Hammer Mill Days

Woke up this morning, my head was so bad. Worst hangover I ever had. What happened to me last ..... Whoa, hold on there. Must have been singing in my sleep. My apologies. Yeah, I was dreaming about some of the god-awful cover bands I've played in over the years. (Well I remember back in '93... tar-nation, that was a time!) It's like paying penance for a heinously miss-spent youth... Condemned forever to roam the catacombs of memory, warbling disposable rock-n-roll warhorses to myself. W.T.F. - I don't think I ever even SANG "Double shot of my baby's love" or whatever it's called! I must be reliving the lives of other ex-lounge lizards. Uhhlllll.... That's a grisly thought. Anyway, welcome back to the Cheney Hammer Mill, where the roofs are sagging, the floors are heaving, and the space in-between is getting narrower and narrower all the time. (The man-sized tuber has scrounged up a 4X8 post from somewhere and propped it up next to his terrariu

When Obama was elected last fall, I found myself wallowing in a kind of hopeful feeling - one that was floated on a number of kind of shaky (though no less comforting) assumptions. One was that Obama might somehow prove to be an exception to the usual political rule, inasmuch as he was an insurgent pitted against a strong establishment candidate, and was not expected to win the nomination. He is also a compelling speaker, a likeable media personality, and so on. So for that two months between Election Day and Inauguration Day, it was possible to suspend disbelief and enjoy a brief vacation from that somewhat oppressive national political reality we've lived with all of our lives. That, of course, is over, and I suppose it's all to the good. Hey, it was the holiday season, right? What better time to feel all festive and delusionary. Now the work begins. This isn't the first time I've tried to disabuse myself of the notion that there is, in fact, a kind of permanent gover