Elliott Randall Should Change His Name

Because I can never remember it, and it is a handy name to know in case one is asked, “Who’s the greatest guitarist of all time you never heard of?”

Elliott. Randall. He played a solo you’re probably very familiar with if you’re my age or older. Hint…his 2007 release was called “Still Reelin’.”

Elliott. Randall. Thank you, Lionel.

You Know What The Sun's All About

I like electricity.

If I’m in my home and even if nothing is switched on, I think I can hear the lovely hum of the electromagnetic force. At the very least, I can hear the systems of my house that the electricity is running, such as the furnace. I daresay that for many Americans, electricity itself is a companion.

So it really sucks when the power goes out, as it did last night.

It was 9 p.m., and suddenly, the lights began to wane and flicker and I thought I was in “The Day After” for a moment. Then, nothing, and all the UPS’ and the radon detector became noisy. I was attempting to watch “In Bruges,” my second attempt at such a project, so perhaps I was not meant to see it.

Of course, there’s initially the panicked “what happened?” flurry in the house and the poke of one’s head out the door to see that yes, everyone in the neighborhood is out and it’s not that you forgot to pay the bill. I grabbed flashlights and called the power company, who assured me it’s a widespread outage and would not be up until early the next morning. I had a few charged XM radios and a Sookie Stackhouse novel (yes, I’m beginning to READ just as I watch television, like a 12-year-old girl, too) so I could keep busy. I would turn off my emergency light from time to time just to see how dark it really was. Darkness and silence. I felt like I was at Luray Caverns.

It didn’t last long. The lights came back on at 11 or so. And I learned a few things from the experience, like, I need more candles in the house and more emergency lights, those are very nice. It also gave me another reason for hanging on to a satellite radio subscription or two that I have. It was so nice to be able to switch on and listen to Howard and Jay Thomas and such.

Note to self: Call the power company Mundy. I’d really like to know what the hell that was all about.

Inauguration Day

7:43 a.m. I am up dressed and showered and in my Inauguration Day duds…sweat pants, my Obama T, my Homer-Simpson-Ate-My-Feet slippers, and a hoodie since my house is always chilly in morning. I should still be in bed; Papa Bonk and I were up a little later than we should have been catching up on the vital news of the day via Olbermann, Maddow, and Stewart. We kept saying how it felt like Christmas Eve, only this morning, there’s good policy stuck in your stocking. I wonder this morning if Cheney pulled his back attempting a “Hulk-smash” kind of tantrum over no longer being the President of the Untied States of America. Downtown looks like a mess; I am glad to be one of those grumpy townies sensible enough to avoid it.

Universal Congress of the Eleventh-Hour Shine-On

I know it seems lately that I’m neglecting Radio B.O.N.K. I’m not. I’m working on something cool, working on reviving the Ska Nooner. So there.

Doing such a project has made me dive into a new cache of old CDs I came across. That’s fun. I just added a song by the Universal Congress of the Eleventh-Hour Shine-On. That’s some good shit.

As is a mystery track I’ve uploaded. It’s not exactly an “official” track, but it is lovely, that of Dresden Dolls’ Amanda Palmer singing Radiohead’s “Creep” accompanied only by her own ukelele. I will mark the track soon. It is quite remarkable. Thanks to Howard Stern for pointing it out to me and to one Doctor Ivan of The Stern Fan Network for making the track available. I hope there is a more official track in the future, because it really is something. Amanda Palmer herself is quite something. Look.

“…who needs love, when there’s Southern Comfort?”

My Own Private Goulash

It is fun to allow a good dish to evolve.

I had a jug of frozen sofrito to use up, and I’ll tell you that I’ll never use store-bought sofrito again because it’s nothing but MSG, but god-damn, it’s good, so I threw it into a Crock-Pot with a can of mixed vegetables and a can of black beans. I also threw in some additional frozen mixed veggies for good measure. I boiled and seared a nice chorizo sausage (yes, this is a spicy one) and threw it in, chopping it up into pieces once it’d stewed a while, then I put some rice in the cooker. The stew poured on the rice was was very good. But it wasn’t delicious yet.

Last night saw the introduction of a half-pound of browned ground turkey, spiced with fresh ground pepper and a little salt, to the half of the mix that got gooshed up with the rice in the Ziploc container. And that improved matters. But it wasn’t delicious yet.

Tonight, the other half of the turkey was browned and spiced, the leftover rice/stew mixture and the other half just stew went in with it, and a cup and a half of macarooni was boiled and thrown in. And then it simmered a bit.

Dear gods.

Don’t give up on your kitchen frustration projects, friends. They can always turn into something perfect.