I hooked up with some pals yesterday afternoon at the Heine Bros. on Frankfort Ave. (Where did we meet before the rejuvenation of the coffee shop era?)
Sitting at the next table, having an animated conversation with her computer was a lovely young lady. She was talking with a friend . . . in France.
Who among us, even as recently as a score of years ago, could conceptualize the Skyped, connected world we now live in? Future generations will laugh, when viewing pictures of electronic devices connected by wires and cables.
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The evidence is anecdotal, but I must ask?
Now that it’s under the gun, what with Crit Luallen auditing and all, is MSD actually taking its job seriously? For the last month or so, it seems I’ve seen workers fixing sewer lines on every other block. And they actually seem to be working as opposed to taking a break. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m advised that available for purchase and consumption at least at one state fair — Iowa perhaps? — is this delicacy, Fried Butter.
Um, how cholesteriffic!!! You’d think they’d have the common sense to stuff that butter with a hard boiled egg, before coating it with sugared batter and dropping it in boiling oil. Then you’d have a real American treat.
While the Film Babe and I did not traverse the entirety of the fairgrounds last night, I don’t believe that particular menu item is available.
We did see a new perennial, the bacon cheeseburger with 2 Krispy Kreme® donuts replacing the usual bun. We did peruse a vendor’s stand, offering Fried Derby Pie®, along side a big ol’ tray of Fried Kool-Aid™. We scurried past quickly, our thinking that even inhaling the air around such foodstuffs might add avoirdupois and increase cholesterol readings. Read the rest of this entry »
If only I could run as fast as I can read the entire morning Courier-Journal?
It’s getting thinner and thinner by the week. Some days, there’s not enough to cover the bottom of a regulation sized bird cage.
And curioser and curioser are the decisions being made by those in charge down at 6th & Broadway.
Apparently, they’ve gotten a clue that readers want expanded TV listings. So The Once Great Newspaper is going TV Guide. A new expanded “TV Week” will be available with your Sunday edition, starting mid September. Read the rest of this entry »
I found myself in Fairdale the other day. (Okay, if you must ask a Highlands guy what he’s doing out there, know that the office of my dentist of long standing is right down the street from Fairdale HS.)
Coming off the ramp of the Gene Snyder onto National Turnpike, I saw a site I’ve never seen before in my town.
A convoy of sorts.
Three big military transport vehicles. Given their general dilapidated condition and the oil fumes they were spewing, I suspect Vietnam era issue.
They were ragged, but obviously a source of pride to those involved in . . . whatever. On one was a logo, reading “Ace of Spades.” On another, over a fire-breathing razorback, the moniker, “Wild Thing.” The third was designated, “Proud American.”
Trailing was an ancient Jeep, military issue also, designated “Wolfman.”
On the back of one of the trucks, somewhat explanatory, was a flapping sign reading, “We Support Vietnam Veterans.”
Riding in the bed of each of the trucks, like a ragtag guerilla outfit of some sort, were several guys, adults and young teens.
Mounted in each of the trucks were several machine guns.
It is a bracing moment when one’s compassion, sense of equality, and years of liberal beliefs are called into question.
If fosters knee jerk emotions one hopes never to consider.
I live in a bucolic neighborhood. Tall oaks, lots of shade. Managed yards. A minimum of litter on the ground. Though in an urban area, it is generally safe to walk the streets, even well after dark.
At the end of my block sits one of our gorgeous city parks.
Around the corner is a nifty little park with a playground, a relatively new service building with restrooms and a gazebo where concerts are held on summer Sunday nights.
Early yesterday morning, as the traffic for those heading downtown to work was just building, I jogged through that little park, past that gazebo. Read the rest of this entry »
Before getting on with these observations of President Barack Obama’s Catch-22, a caveat.
I can not think like a black man thinks. Nor see the world as a black man sees the world.
I know this to be true from experience.
A score of years ago, two well-meaning, intellectually inquisitive groups of fellows — one black, one white — decided to meet monthly. To discuss politics. Culture. Sports. Society. And the racial aspects of all those subjects. One month we’d meet at a place one group chose, the next month at a spot chosen by the other. Thus we were all taken out of our comfort zones to areas of Louisville where we might not otherwise travel.
The meetings were always cordial, never acrimonious. The purpose was to foster understanding, bridge gaps. There were certainly differences of opinion, often the perspectives were far apart. We were always respectful, striving for a common understanding.
One night the subject of a local personality came up. Several of the men of color were absolutely positive the person was a racist. They gave reasons. I know this personality, have spent time in his/ her company. I had never considered for a moment that he/ she was racist. Read the rest of this entry »
I know we don’t talk much anymore. Okay, we’ve never spoken before, but I did try to reach you via email the other day. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. Your web site was down, I assume, from so much traffic of all those wanting your ear on the debt ceiling smackdown.
Anyway, we live in the same town, essentially the same neighborhood. I almost built a house several years back right up the hill from your condo. But still live within a jog just a couple neighborhoods over in the Highlands.
We root for the same team, Mitch. I’m talking about the U of L Cardinals we both love so much.
The Cardinal hoopsters haven’t done so well when it mattered the last couple of seasons, in the NCAA tourney. We’re both looking for big things from Rick Pitino and his charges this coming season, maybe even One Shining Moment.
This story ran originally in 2003, when local institution Hawley Cooke closed its doors. With the demise of its successor Borders imminent, I thought it appropriate to run this again.
Graham Cooke is not one to dally when in business mode. He was his usual scurrying self when encountered in his office last Monday afternoon. Then, turning his chair away from the computer screen, he offered, “I can give you a couple of minutes.”
It was not a normal business day. Just a day earlier, he, along with the three other Hawley-Cooke Booksellers’ owners — his wife, Martha Neal Cooke, Bill Schuetze and his ex, Audrey Beach Schuetze — had closed on the sale to Borders Books.
My latest techno obsession is solid state hard drives. Like Apple introduced in the latest ideation of its Air laptop.
They’re a lot faster than old school hard drives, which work still kind of like a turntable playing an LP. With a fast fingered DJ.
So I dropped by the Apple store at Oxmoor the other day, figuring one of Steve Jobs acolytes working there would be more than anxious to share if there was any buzz that SSDs would be standard in the next go round of iMacs?
So I asked the first geek that pounced in my direction.
“I’m curious,” said I, “whether there are rumors that maybe the next edition of the iMacs will have solid state drives as standard issue.”
“You know, we just came out with a new line of upgraded iMacs . . .”
“Yes, yes, but I was wondering about the next release, and whether you’d heard anything?” Read the rest of this entry »
What I expected from a Saturday evening of music on the river was simple. Some good Q. More than a few Muddy Waters cover songs. Bonhomie.
Little did I expect to hear arguably the most fetching set of R & B cover songs . . . perhaps . . . ever. With a major surprise thrown in.
Joe DeBow is a southpaw.
There was simply no warning that at a blue festival he’d pull out a tune from left field.
The Joe DeBow Experience kicked it off with rousing versions of “Hey Joe” and “Foxy Lady” Danny Henderson plays Hendrix better than most. It’s the lofty height to which all guitar players aspire.
Then came a stirring “People Get Ready.”
Followed by the kicker: A smashing, marvelous, gleeful take on America’s “Horse With No Name.” No, really, that’s what they played. Honest.
Here’s a youtube video of a previous performance of the tune at the Derby Chow Wagon. (It’s part of their repertoire??? Go figure.)
I, and a whole lot of others in the crowd — old, young, black, white — couldn’t stop smiling and grooving to the rendition. Read the rest of this entry »
When my friend Jane arrived to our table at Jim Porter’s on Friday night, she was holding her head with both hands in wonder, her mouth agape, her eyes befuddled.
“Look at all these people,” she, H.S. Class of ’62, gasped. “Everybody’s so . . . old.”
“Jane,” I replied, “this is us.”
The occasion was a show commemorating the 50th anniversary of Cosmo & the Counts, one of Louisville’s seminal early rock & roll bands.
Cosmo is Tommy Cosdon, a seriously talented R & B singer — trainer of last place Derby finisher Rae’s Jet and former entrepreneur of Cosmo’s Wiggery — whose voice still holds sway as he rockets toward age 70. He was lead singer of The Sultans, the most popular Louisville band in the early 60s. At least in the East End. Johnny Hourigan and The Trendels (originally The Four Frantics), teamed with The Carnations, were as popular in other areas of town.
As such evolutions are wont to happen, Cosmo split off from The Sultans and started his own group in ’61. Friday night, he was still at it a half century later. Read the rest of this entry »
For various and sundry reasons — some beyond my control, some not — last night was my first Waterfront Wednesday of the season. (I’m still pissed at the local weatherheads and their blasphemy which resulted in my missing Over The Rhine.)
So it was my first WW at what may be its new home under the Big Four Bridge.
As for the music: The Film Babe and I missed the opener because of a standing early Wednesday evening commitment. We arrived during the middle of Abigail Washington’s set. My sense is her quirky Americana needs a quieter, more attentive audience. It appeared she failed to resonate, at least in the area we were sitting. Which is not to condemn her music or talent in the least. It was just hard to connect. Read the rest of this entry »
I hooked up with some pals yesterday afternoon at the Heine Bros. on Frankfort Ave. (Where did we meet before the rejuvenation of the coffee shop era?)
