Down and out in Cairo, a new day's gonna come?

I'v been watching with fascination the lightning quick events taking place in Egypt.  Like a wildfire, the events in Tunisia have spread to another Mideast country.  This is huge for our country, Egypt is number two in foreign aid given by the United States, after Israel.  Much has been said about this, as much as CAN be said in two days.  Is this the same as the Green Revolution that was squashed in Iran a year ago?  Another Tiananmen Square, where young people raise up against a tyrannical dictatorship and demand democracy?  Or is it more similar to the Iranian Revolution in 1979 where the Shaw was disposed and that fine man who you would invite for dinner if you were serving live monkey brains, the Ayatollah Khomeini, came into power and brought with him the Morality Police and a security force worthy of Darth Vader?  We don't know.  But I can assure you that Islamic Fundamentalists see this as a clear opportunity to slam, slide, or slither into the vacuum left by Hosni Mubarak, if by some miracle he were to decide to check out of the Hotel Cairo and take a long vacation.  Don't think that's going to happen anytime soon.  My guess is the new management will evict him.

    Dictators are SO predictable.  Their actions and reactions are almost childish, dumbed down for what they perceive as an even dumber populace.  And usually they're right, that's why there are dictators-they know how to manipulate.  Anyway, about an hour ago I heard his speech where he has thrown what he thinks is fresh cake to the masses and announced that he is firing his government, dissolving parliament!  He's going to throw the bums out.  Apparently he didn't get the memo, relayed by the thousands in the streets, that HE is the bum.  But of course, like all dictators, when the shit hits the fan, he throws everyone around him under the bus in a craven attempt to save his own skin.  

    And while we're on the subject of craven, last night's announcement by Vice President Biden, ending with him saying that 'Mubarak is no dictator' had an ironic and hollow finish considering that RIGHT after that re-assuring 'move on, there's nothing to see here' speech, Mubarak shut down the internet and all social networking sites in Egypt!  Now there's democracy at work.  

    Liberals, wide eyed and blushing as usual with too- many- times- mis-directed idealism, came out right away cheering the downtrodden and the protesters.  Conservatives came out right away with their usual fear mongering and condemnation of Obama- "Islamic terrorists are taking over and remember when Obama bowed and said 'why can't we all get along?".  

   This is how I see it.  The truth lies somewhere in the middle, although in this case, I think the conservatives may be closer to the reality.  Mubarak is one of the only friends we have over there.  But he IS a dictator.  He's a craven, power clinging dictator cut from the same cloth as all the rest who is NOT concerned with the welfare of his people but concerned about acquiring and hanging onto POWER.  We throw money at him, he uses it to suppress human rights and in return, keeps the al quedas away.  Once he's gone, which I think is very likely, there will be a short time where anything is possible.  And the fundamental religious forces will move very quickly to inflame an ignorant public with promises of a better economy etc and of course all that is false, but they will say that to establish a religious theocracy.  Another Iran.  The Islamic Brotherhood, or some fundamentalist organisation will move to sieze the opportunity.  The IB may or may not be a radical group, some say it isn't, conservative pundits of course lump it in with all the rest of Al Queda affiliated groups.  If the internet is re-opened and everyone's 'better angels' prevail, then perhaps, for ONCE, a real democracy will be born in the Middle east.  Will we align ourselves on the right side of history? For once?  I hope so, the problem is figuring out which side IS right.  And we have a dismal record of missed opportunities.  We certainly blew our chance when the Green Revolution happened and our president chose to, once again, not chose.  Stay tuned.  We shall see.               

A song I wrote about a lost love in Paris

Entertainer meets mobster live at The Sunset Room

Just read a story about some musicians in Mexico who were killed because they quit too early!  As a musician this hit close to home if you'll pardon the pun.  It reminds me of a time I was playing a new gig at a piano bar and a guy, a large dour looking guy, sits down and mumbles 'you know any Italian songs'? He pronounced the 'I' long, as in 'eye'. I didn't understand him, so he repeats it. I said I didn't know any.  He didn't like that. So he tells me to buy him a beer, to which I said, most people buy the entertainer a beer.  He stares at me.  Something about him reminded me of Luca Brasi from The Godfather, but I didn't know how close I was.  He then asks if I knew 'Green Green Grass of Home' and I didn't but by that time I felt I should at least fake it. It passed, somewhat, I only knew the first verse.  This went on for a while and I noticed that whenever he spoke, the regulars sitting at the piano all went silent. Most peculiar. I took my break, walked in the dim cigarette infused light, past the red vinyl tables, over to the walnut bar where some old guys with young blonds sat nursing martinis and asked the bartender Frank who this guy was that everybody seemed scared of.  "Oh", he says, "That's Tony Gambino, he comes down to LA every few months to do business and always comes in here. Be careful, he's connected". "Connected?" I say, "as in Gambino connected"?  "As in".  

   So my break's over and as I'm climbing up the riser, Mr Gambino, still sitting there hovering over his Budweiser,  tells me to give him my tip money- I had a giant snifter full of cash- some fives, a ten and a lot of ones. ..... Well I don't know if it was the drinks I'd had, or the mood I was in, or what I'd seen on TV as to how you must act in prison towards thugs, but to my amazement I said right off, "No. That's MY money, I earned it and NOBODY takes my tips".  EVERYONE went completely quiet and stared at their drinks. I was silently cussing myself out when he says, "Comon outside, I want to show you something."  Now the way he talked sounded just like Pauli Walnuts or any wise guy you would see on any mob show. Of course I made up some excuse that I had to start playing and he insisted and finally I said ok, knowing that that was probably going to be my last walk on this earth. So we went outside and he shows me his Rolls and asks me what I think. I said its very impressive. And he says in a voice that sounded like his mouth was filled with marbles, "nobody's ever talked to me like that. You got balls kid. How would you like to go to work for me?  Be my driver?"  I was stunned.  I told him I really couldn't.  He asked me how much they were paying me and when I told him he laughed and said that was peanuts, etc.  I finally told him I did it for the love, not the money, and he respected that. We went back inside and he bought ME a beer!  And I played him another butchered version of 'Green Green Grass of Home'.  True story.  

Had some time to kill so I played a song at Best Buy...it could happen..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJeKhrvcq3E

My Cat Bennie

My sister lives in a small town in Northern California.  She has living with her, 3 dogs, 3 cats and a turtle.  She moved and she finally realized that 7 animals was just too much and she asked me if I would like to take Bennie home.  Now Bennie is a Manx cat, which means he has no tail and his hind legs are longer than his front and he acts like a dog.  No kidding, that's one of their characteristics.  And he's very big and really liked me, for whatever reason cats use to decide who and what to like.  Whenever I came for a visit, he was the one who would curl up on my lap or behind my head.  So I agreed.  I was concerned that Bennie would miss the dogs and cats that have been in his family for years but my sister assured me that he wouldn't.  "Are you kidding??"  I forgot to mention that Bennie is a dead ringer for Morris, the stuck-up- pitch-cat for 9 lives, in looks and attitude.  You get the picture.  So we left his home that in all likelihood he'll never see again, buried under a foot of fresh snow and 23 degree temps for sunny Southern California. 

   Of course the first thing he commenced to do was shed his winter coat, and continues to shed his winter coat, much like the tree in my front yard that starts dropping leaves in September and doesn't quit until February.  

    I love this cat.  He's regal.  His paws are huge, almost over-sized, and with his tawny coat and large head and body, somehow he reminds me of a lion.  And he's so affectionate.  Yes, he is like Morris, in the sense that he'll sit Sphinx-like staring at the wall, TV, or out the window and ignore you.  But he is affectionate.   I don't think I'v ever seen a cat that is so much like a dog.  He follows me everywhere, and not just when he wants to be fed.  He loves to be stroked and petted and won't tear my hand off when he's tired of it.  He just walks away.  When he does grab my hand, its not to rip and capture, although he does pin it down with claws extended, its so he can LICK it!  Strange cat this Bennie.  

    He comes to me when I call him.  By his name, no 'here kitty kitty' around here.  Its 'come here Bennie'.  End of story.  He'll come and tuck me in when I finally go to bed at night, nuzzle my face and then go curl up at the end of the bed.  But only for a little while.  I'll hear him hit the floor, though I can't feel him get up, he's very stealthy.  He goes off somewhere else to sleep.  In the morning, the second I wake up-I'm not making a sound-he somehow hears me.  Or feels me.  I don't know.  But anyway, up jumps Bennie onto the bed and he'll sit there patiently waiting for me to get up.  Or if he gets a bit impatient, he'll nudge my hand with his paw.  Once I wake up its on until I pad into the kitchen and feed him.  

     He's a great cat, a real noble animal, with a real sixth sense and I suppose 9 lives although I never want that myth/truth to be tested in his case.  He used to hunt rabbits, birds, mice and rats and run from coyotes, cougars and bears in the snow, rain and sun, but now he lives the gentleman's life.  Eats boiled chicken breast, pacific salmon, and friskies cat food (doesn't like science diet??), sleep, eat some more, sleep, and wait for me to pet, brush and love him.  A city cats life no?