Extremism is to profiling as...

I've avoided serious topics for quite some time now as it just plain hurts my head. Elections, social issues, recession, etc. As a true Jersey Democrat, I had become complacent during the Bush years just waiting for what I felt was inevitable. The pendulum swinging back to the left. Hope vs. Fear. A reason to be encouraged about the future of my country, my family's opportunities and life in general. This is no introduction to explain how rosy I think an Obama world will be. I don't know the answer to that. He's been in office for 3 months, for God's sake. Give me a break. Give him a break. Because we can buy a burger, a taco or even a beer without ever leaving our car, because we can instantly chat with a friend or family member thousands of miles away with one stroke of a keyboard, we expect things like the economy to right itself by Monday morning at 8 AM. Wake up, America.

I saw the recent report released by Janet Napolitano and the Department of Homeland Security warning of the dangers of possible domestic terrorism from potentially vulnerable returning soldiers and/or Veterans. The backlash was predictable. How dare you attack Veterans. Oh boy. Here we go with the rhetoric, again. 'Support our troops! You hate America! You hate our troops!' Blah! Blah! Blah! One die-hard Rush Limbaugh fan I know assured me that Napolitano would have her resignation on Obama's desk within the week. How dare she?

I'm tired of that noise. The older I get, the more I believe in the power of numbers. Statistics. As a sports fan I have to rely on statistics to make predictions...for my fantasy play, or just to predict an outcome of a game in general. Numbers explain a lot of this world. But the challenge is how to incorporate the human element into the equation. I know, for example, that Albert Pujols is going to have a beneficial impact for the St. Louis Cardinals because he has done so for many years, consistently. But maybe Albert tries to play injured...or his mother passes away. And he plays like poop. Human factors will affect results. They will affect statistics.

The DHS says that since a majority of the most violent, documented acts of domestic terrorism have been carried out by right-wing, religious or libertarian militant extremists who specifically target former military recruits, and that returning soldiers should be cautioned of their potential vulnerability based on their likelihood of post-traumatic stress disorders, etc. ergo, they will be a recruiters objective. It's based on statistics. And the report specifically differentiates between ideology and action. The human element. It never accuses veterans or military personal of being terrorists. The rights allotted to all of us as Americans, to believe whatever we want to believe while upholding the rule of law (i.e. not killing each other). There are left-wing nut jobs who have organized and caused violence, too...just as reprehensible. They want to save animals by harming or killing humans. Ridiculous! And lately the lefty extremists are your cyber terrorists. Computer viruses, hackers, etc. But their numbers do not come close to the likes of the KKK, organized in the 1860's, and their numerous off-shoots that survive to this day as well as the numerous Neo Nazi organizations that thrive in this country and are, in fact, growing due to the obvious infiltration of mostly legal Hispanics as well as the smaller, illegal faction. Pro-white groups have predominantly, not solely, but predominantly supported Republican and/or Libertarian politics. Not good news for legal Non-whites. This country has a very ugly history in regards to race and people still wonder why minorities are carrying the torch. Only Caucasians in the year 2100 will understand.

Right-wing extremists groups are far more organized, have much greater numbers and have committed more serious acts of domestic terrorism than liberal ones. It's a statistical fact. It does NOT mean that all Americans with right-leaning politics are terrorists. What part of the word extremists do people not understand?

In Arizona, a border state, the rhetoric is loud...and ugly. The statistics are there to see in plain sight. Illegal immigration affects our state directly. It affects us economically, socially and politically. Solutions are needed. Real ones. Real solutions are called compromises. What don't I understand about the word ILLEGAL? I'll tell you what. I know it is illegal to cross the United States Border without the proper paperwork in order. I know it is illegal to kill another person under anything other than a self-defense claim, lay person or law-enforcement alike. It is illegal to target, hurt or kill another human being on American soil, regardless of citizenship status because of their race, ethnicity or sexual preference or identity. ILLEGAL. What I don't understand about the word illegal incorporates the human element. When an illegal has been brought here by their law-breaking parent when he or she was 3 years old, went to public school and excelled, scores highest in their class with a full scholarship to a 4 year university while having little to no contact with family in Mexico and is now going to be deported because they're "ILLEGAL, dammit"...That I don't understand. I don't understand the loud mouthed hard liner who has no foresight to see what good that "illegal" can do for his own country, simply because he's filled with his "patriotic pride". What a sad ideology. Embarrassing, really.

The truth is, this impatient faction of the American population wants the border problem fixed now! Done with. Over. But, it never will be over. The border will NEVER be completely secure. EVER. It's impossible. Even if you build a wall, just like post WWII Germany complete with barbed wire, checkpoints and armed military, you will never STOP the flow. They didn't. Advanced technology is not fail-safe. You may reduce it...but at what cost? How much constitutional integrity do you surrender?

It seems the same folks who are screaming that it's OK for Sheriff Joe Arpaio to profile all Hispanics because some are illegal are the same ones grabbing their flag and demanding that the government is out of line for "profiling" a returning soldier. Hey, cops and firefighters have killed wives and neighbors, too, but we call them all "heroes". There is an ebb and tide in every social issue. There is gray in most aspects of our lives,not black and white. If most illegals in Arizona are Hispanic than we should be able to legally "profile" Hispanics, is the argument I always hear. Well than if most domestic terrorists are right-wing nut jobs, avid gun owners and former military guys then we should "profile" them too. Call it even. We really have lost the ability to see the good in people first.

...and they call this a Christian nation. Hmmm.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Elvi have left the building.

I read my last blog (about my musical history) for the first time since I wrote it and it sure did sound boastful. And show-offy. A little pretentious, even. Sorry. Guess I was feeling a certain 'lack of self' at the time I wrote it so I had to try and lift myself above the rest. I'm human. And after all, I really am just a regular "cat" like all of you. That's a joke, sort of. An inside joke, really. A guy really said that to me once. He was an Elvis Impersonator.

That sounds too good to just leave alone so, OK, I'll tell this story quickly... or not. Since I can't tell stories quickly. But it's funny, so I hope you'll read on.

Back to the musical history stuff again. It was 2000 when I was performing locally in the oldies band, Jukebox, when we got a call to work a three weekend stint at the Apache Gold Casino in Miami/Globe, AZ, about 90 minutes east of Phoenix. Tough logistics since the gigs were Thurs., Fri. and Sat. nights and I was still working the day job as a kitchen manager at the Dial Corporation. (No, I have never blogged about that so don't bother looking it up.) Playing a gig until 12:30 am on a Thursday night, driving an hour and a half home, sleeping 2 1/2 hours and getting up for work at 5 am, well...let's be real...it sucked. But it was only one night a week since on the Friday and Saturday gigs I could take advantage of the hotel rooms the casino provided us.

So, this Elvis Impersonator, (I'll call him "Bob" to protect his identity since he still performs in Nevada regularly and I would not want to slander him in a public forum), was, to say the least, an extreme egomaniac. Though he did put on an entertaining show, he never let an opportunity pass without telling you so. An hour before our first show, during our sound check, despite being late to that because he flew his mommy in for the show - which was creepy all by itself, he insisted we listen to his demo tape. Now, one of my best friends is a professional commercial sound engineer who has heard his share of voice-over and music demo reels to last a lifetime, and let me tell you...never are they typically more than 3 minutes. If it's 5 minutes it's not even considered. "Bob's" tape went on for 20 minutes. Mediocre impression after mediocre impression of the usual suspects. George Bush. Oh, ha-ha. Bill Clinton. Wow, never heard that one before. Wait a minute...was that just Arnold Schwarzenegger? What a riot. It never ended. And it was interactive. He actually had a part where he spoke to the tape and acted out little skits with it. You'd hear the set up of a joke on the tape and he would answer it onstage in the microphone, as say...Sammy Davis, Jr. or Bob Hope...with the punchline. And are you sitting? He actually imitated Barney the dinosaur. (cricket, cricket)

...have you ever had a root canal? It was kinda like that.

Anyway, back to the "cat" line. So the next night we opt to take advantage of the Casino buffet (which is a major no-no when you're about to play a 3 hour gig, but...I know, I'll stop with the asides) but he happens to walk into the restaurant as we just sat down with our plates sky high full of fried chicken, King Crab legs and dry, bland hush-puppies.

"Hey guys", he says like a long lost friend. "How often do you play the Apache Gold?"

He then sits, uninvited. We tell him 'never', that this is our first foray into Pinal County and that we mostly gig in Maricopa County. Perhaps mistaking our dis-interest for apprehensive admiration, he drops the line,

"Well, hell, that's OK, guys. I played Reno long before I hit Vaygesh". (Spoken like a true Elvi). "Listen...deep inside...well, I'm a regular "cat"...just like you."

He said this with as much sincerity as I think he was capable of and it was as if he felt like he "put us at ease". He then ascended from the table, like his mission was accomplished in making the "guys" feel better, and slithered away from the table with a series of inaudible "Hi's" and "How are ya's" accompanied by the hand "gun" that fired/pointed towards an "admirer" and solidified the greeting with a wink.

That last bit was not writers embellishment. He honest to goodness, actually did that. I don't think we ever laughed so hard in an eating establishment before or since. We finished the 3 weeks playing behind the greatest Elvis Impersonator who ever thought he was, and not just as better musicians...

....we were better men for having backed him. Now pass the peanut butter.

My Musical History - by Michael J. Liddy

I played a 50's gig last night (with an oldies band I was a previous member of for 5 or 6 years) at a retirement village in the east valley, about 1 hour east of the Phoenix downtown. It was the second gig with them this year and it was really fun, as it usually is. I played with these guys from 1997 until 2003 when some disagreements formed between some members and the group disbanded and we all moved on. So I thought. But after last night it got me thinking a lot about my musical life. Where I started, where I've been and where I am today. I've been both lucky and smart. But sometimes I ask myself if that is enough?

I've played lots of different music in my life, some of which has been simple straight forward rock and roll and some which is not (like the few years I played middle eastern gigs here in Arizona for private functions). [Begin tangent] Yes, I know some of you are laughing, those that know me anyway, because the very image of this Irish boy playing an 8 stringed bouzouqi (which is really a Greek instrument but qualifies as Arabic for the purposes of this classification), while dressed in long flowing garments with full headdress, is chock full of enough goofiness to break the ice between even the fiercest of Camp David summits. Ten years ago in Phoenix, you see, there was plenty of need for Arabic musicians, with very few to go around. What with our picturesque desert landscape, many of our best resorts often held conventions, parties or corporate get-aways that featured middle-eastern themed dinners complete with multi-colored tents, belly dancers and roasted lamb with lentils...even rented camels for God's sake. Camels! I kid you not, it was quite a scene. But like every entrepreneur will tell you, find a niche and fill it, right? So a friend in this oldies band found a gig playing these events and I jumped on board, since...well...a paycheck is a paycheck, you know?

And the answer is no, by the way...I, of course, had no training in such a genre, no experience playing foreign instruments like these and never had to focus so hard on my music in my life as scantily clad women were dancing circles around me with little cymbals on their fingers and their toes and God knows where else. And since the gigs paid quite mediocre, what we were playing was inconsequential, at best. In fact, since all of us had nothing but European blood running through our veins and no facial hair to speak of, we all looked pretty ridiculous if I should be so frank. Downright silly. And we got away with it, too. I mean, really. No one knew whether or not we were playing authentic Arabic music at all. OK, one, maybe two did. But for all most people knew, we could have been playing rock songs on middle eastern instruments. OK, actually...we were. Chuck Berry. Beatles...and lots of surf music. If you've never heard a bouzouqi before you wouldn't know Rai music from "Pipeline" if your life depended on it, so we made the best of it for as long as it lasted.

Which was until September 11th, 2001. As you could imagine, there wasn't much call for Arabic music after that. So...I promptly retired my pale blue dishdasha to the closet where it still hangs...never to be worn since. [end tangent]

But back to the music. Taking piano lessons at age 9 was not my choice. It was my mothers. Damn those people. Mothers. Since my brother had the sports thing nailed down it was me and my sister thrown into the fire pit of the Arts. Piano lessons with Mrs. Orlick. I don't remember if it was the first month or second, but all I knew was that I liked it. And I excelled at it. My sister did not, apparently, but she went on to develop another gift that I've always wished I had, but didn't. A beautiful singing voice. The years of lessons continued on, but, I had to show the world...MY world - my friends...that it was so...like....totally stupid. This piano stuff was...like...gay. Like totally... gay and stupid. I was a pubescent dweeb with lots of new acne, uncontrollable erections and crushes on both Kathy Rembisz AND Tracy Hendrickson. WHY DID MY MOTHER HAVE TO MAKE ME TAKE PIANO LESSONS?

Well...thank God my mother made me take piano lessons. My piano, I firmly believe, got me to the other side. That chasm between preteen-ness and the legal drinking age. That piano was like a pole vault. Some people talk about high school as the best years of their lives. Mine were the worst. If I didn't have that piano...that best friend. That therapist. That security blanket. I may not have made it through.

I played in a scattering of college bars as well as a few garage bands, some amateur, some who aspired to be amateurs, when I finally made the move to Phoenix, which was a knee-jerk decision on my part. I wasn't supposed to stay.

But I found a wife. And a family. And a reason to try. A reason to do. And here in the desert I, musically, spread my wings.

In 1998, after playing with the oldies group for a year, we scored a gig for New Years at the new Mesa Arts Center backing up Jay Proctor of Jay & the Techniques from "Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie" fame from 1967. The hired us as a mercenary band since the producers couldn't fly his whole band to Arizona from Pennsylvania for the gig. Unfortunately, the Arts Center didn't sell enough tickets and the event was cancelled. Jay's contract however was strong and we all got paid quite well to NOT play that night. Two months later, however, Jay was coming to a local casino with his band but they needed a 2nd keyboardist to play all the horns and string parts. Since I was already in the loop, I got the gig. I'll never deny how nervous I was to be playing the "big time" with "professional" musicians. The band turned out to be a great group of guys and they were definitely, as a whole, players of a different caliber. My hard work seemed to pay off as I truly feel that they elevated my play and I was asked by the Musical Director to play with them whenever they played out west again. I quickly agreed.

Later that year they flew me to Vegas to play with Jay again. But this show also had two other acts that the MD/lead guitarist Rick Levy represented who I was not hired to play for. Tommy Roe and Freddy "Boom Boom" Cannon were also on the bill that weekend and just for the hell of it, I asked Rick if I could "sit in" on their shows knowing full well I wouldn't be paid for it. He said, "yeah, if I'd like" (reminding me that I wouldn't get any more than our contract stated) and it was one of the best decisions I could have made. We all had a blast on Freemont Street as well as many other gigs around the country for the next few years. Round about 1999 or 2000 Jay wanted a new lead keyboardist and I was given the call. One of the deciding factors, apparently, was my initiative to play Tommy's and Freddy's shows "for the fun" of it on that random Vegas weekend.

I have played in 46 of 50 states in this country. I've had the immense good fortune to have played on the same stage with many, many talented artists. All of them from an older generation, all of them with stories to tell and all of them had something to teach me. From Jay, Tommy and Freddy to Merrilee Rush, Peter Noone, The Shadows of Knight and The Romantics. We've played to 3 people and we've played to 25,000 and the one thing they all have in common is that you don't play any different to either audience. You play for yourself first. You enjoy the moments. You feed off of the energy (or strive to find some life out there!) but you don't ever tire of the joy of playing live music. It's been an invaluable education for me.

I think of all this because all those national dates are getting fewer and fewer. I might play 1 or 2 shows a year, now, on the road with Jay and Rick and sometimes I forget how much I love being onstage. Last night was a good reminder. There were only about 75 people there last night for the "end of year" bash but I had a blast because we (the band) were all there to enjoy the music for ourselves first. The rest is just gravy.

In fact, it begs the question...I wonder if my dishdasha still fits?