May 29, 2025 ("One From the Heart", Avengers, etc.)

Hey guys, I trust all is well. I've been working on my book ("2009"), and let me tell you a little about the writing process. I once read Kurt Vonnegut's description of writing a first draft, and I get a kick out of it now because it's so accurate. We imagine someone like him, or Stephen King or any great writer, just tossing off one literate, perfect sentence after another, then going back in a second draft to red-pencil a word or sentence or paragraph here and there. Just a slight polishing of an otherwise excellent first effort. Vonnegut described it differently. He said (paraphrase): "For me, every time I start a book it's like I'm a caveman writing in crayon". Boy, did he nail it; the Incoherancy Factor. There's also the Enormity of the Task. Starting a book is like hugging a blimp, or better yet, wrestling a grizzly bear. First, you've gotta get your arms around the doggone thing, get a grip on what you're trying to pin down, and don't let its size intimidate you. Then there's the matter of articulation and grammatical correctness. Everyone knows we don't (or shouldn't) write like we talk; I always use the Two Dudes Conversation as an example. Imagine Two Dudes, conversing with each other: (Dude #1): "Dude...I was at this house...and this chick was there..." (Dude #2): "...aw man, Dude!" (Dude #1)..."No Dude...and dude?...I mean...duuude...Dude, listen"...(Dude #2): "Say no more, dude...". Okay, we know that The Two Dudes know exactly what is being discussed, and in this case we do, too. But you could even take it further, because we've all overheard Two Dudes conversing with only a single word: (Dude #1): "Duuude"....(Dude #2) "Dude?" (Dude #1): "Duuude...". (Dude #2, getting the gist): "Dude!"

Because they understand each other, the Two Dudes don't need articulation. Whether they will continue to lose brain cells is another question, but you get my point. However, you can't write a book that way. You can't "write the way you talk" (even if you speak better than a Dude) because it will confuse readers, who are used to seeing grammatically correct sentences on a page. But when you are starting a book, you tend to "charge out of the gate" because you have so much to say, and your fingers type the "oral version" of what you are thinking, rather than the considered, articulate, and grammatically correct sentences. Thus, we have Vonnegut's assessment of himself as a "caveman with a crayon" when beginning a first draft. That a writer of his stature felt that way is a comfort to the rest of us. 

The first draft of my "2009" book will be a whopping 1200 pages. Luckily for me, half of that consists of my 2009 journal/diary (choose your word) and a series of notes I wrote in 2023/24, the context of which I can't reveal. But the notes are as extensive as my journal, and both will be presented intact (unchanged except for grammatical mistakes), so half the book is already written. The other 600 pages will be my "forensic examination" of the journal and the notes (which describe The 2009 Event), and so far, I too feel like a caveman writing in crayon, so huge is the task, but crayon or no crayon, I'm a very good polisher, and when I am done (likely after three drafts) it will result in an expose no less important than What Happened in Northridge. I'm still hoping for an April 2026 publication date, but it's extended to the end of that year.

On a side note, related to the Two Dudes Conversation, my Mom and I overheard a similar "foreign language" convo at the Lindley/Parthenia carwash, sometime in the early 2000s. It went like this: Speaker #1 "That was some f-cked up s-t, dog". Speaker #2 "Damn, dog. That is some f-cked up s-t!" As we drove away, I remarked to Mom that it was the first time I'd ever heard canines speaking English. Indeed, I'd never heard "dog" used as a pronoun before this. Beyond that, I am amazed (amused?) at the simplicity with which some people (and dogs) speak, and yet they understand every nuance of what is being stated.

File this next thing under "Made me so mad": Last night on my walk, as I approached the intersection of Lindley and Nordhoff, I saw that the protective fencing had been removed from around "Tacos 1986", the food stand that's replacing Cupid's Hot Dogs. I've been rooting for the new owner because he honored our local history, not only by retaining the original Cupid's hut but also its iconic heart-shaped sign. Perhaps he loved Cupids, too, and has honor for what came before him, a rare trait nowdays. With the green-screened construction fencing down, I could see what his stand will look like, and he's done a very nice job indeed. It basically looks like Cupid's with some black iron railings added, and it's ready to open any day now. But as I walked by, going south on Lindley, I happened to glance back over my shoulder, and was infuriated to see that some lowlife tagger had defaced the side of Tacos 1986 with some illegible scumbag gangbanger scrawl, sprayed before the stand has even opened. I have to say, you couldn't "out right-wing" me if you combined Lyman Lemnitzer, Joe McCarthy and Barry Goldwater. I hate bad guys so much, I make Chief Darryl Gates look like Timothy Leary. I think we need Pop-Up Robots all over the place - everywhere. Get Elon to figure out how to make them cost-effective. Then, when a tagger shows up at 4am to deface someone's brand new business, the "pop-up" (embedded in the parking lot, sidewalk, wherever) pops up out of the ground and vaporizes the s.o.b. Same with smash 'n grabs, street takeovers, etc. I've had it with lowlife criminals. They don't "deserve" a fair trial. Support Pop-Up Robots. Well anyhow...

How about a movie?

The other night I watched Francis Ford Coppola's "One From the Heart" for the second time, the first being with Lillian on Valentine's Day 1982. I think we saw it in the NoHo area, or possibly Universal City, if that cineplex was open back then. Boy, does this movie ever ring the nostalgia bell. Over the years, I've always remembered it for the incredible Las Vegas sets, which broke the bank for Coppola and Zoetrope, but I also remembered a significance for Lilly and me. The movie was sad - I remembered that, but I didn't recall how sad, or why. I had an imprint of Frederick Forrest singing "You Are My Sunshine", and in memory it broke my heart because I love Lilly so much and always have and always will. In the movie, Forrest and Teri Garr are always fighting, except at the end when they are redeemed. In that sense, it has a happy ending (like all romantic movies should) but it's mostly a downer, because who wants to watch a couple fight for all but the last two minutes of a movie? But I think the real marker, for me anyway, had to do with when we saw it: February 1982. My life was in upheaval, though at 21 (going on 22) I didn't notice this as much as I would in retrospect. I had literally just quit MGM a few weeks earlier. Consequently, I had no income and had just lost my awesome BMW 320i to repossession. On the good side, my band had just played our first two gigs, at Prairie Street School and Kennedy High, but counteracting that, on the bad side, my bandmates had just broken into the studio of a group named Zilch (who were located next to our rehearsal studio in the Golden Glenn building), and had stolen every piece of musical equipment Zilch owned. Two police detectives came to my door on the morning of February 1 (thirteen days before "One From the Heart"), to question me about the ripoff, because my name was on the studio lease. And if all that weren't enough, the day this happened, February 1, 1982, was the day we had to move out of our studio! So no wonder "One From the Heart" has stuck with me all this time. Lilly and I were so young then. She had just turned 17 three months earlier. I was two months away from 22. And in the movie, Frederick Forrest and Teri Garr are live-in boyfriend and girlfriend, and their anniversary is July 4. That's like a touchstone for me...

Anyhow, watch "One From the Heart" and see what you think. It wasn't a box office success. I think Coppola got carried away with his sets and production design and let the script get away from him. Fifteen minutes could be cut from the middle, and some of the symbolism is muddled. But if the ending doesn't bring out the Kleenex, you need to check your heart. I've never forgotten this movie, it's had deep meaning in my memory for all of this time, and now I know why. The promise of love, in the early 1980s, rings eternal. "You are my sunshine".

Confession: I'm a huge "Avengers" fan. Can you believe it? Me, watching Marvel movies? Now, concerning my fandom, so far it's Avengers only, I'm not talking about the whole MCU. But I got hooked after recently watching "Avengers: Endgame", which was recommended to me by a friend way back in 2019, when it was in theaters. I absolutely loved it (because The Avengers kick bad guys' asses), and I ordered two more Avengers flicks from the Libe: the first one and "Age of Ultron". Of course, I wish I'd seen them all on the big screen, but I'm hooked anyway, and I still have "Infinity Wars" to go. I think the appeal (and this is genius by the filmmakers) is the absolute perfection of the casting. Whoever cast this franchise had the right intuition for the chemistry that would make the series work, and hold the stories down amidst all the superhero CGI chaos. Who would've ever suspected ScarJo as a kick-ass action hero? The casting director! And Downey, Mark Ruffalo, relative unknown Chris Evans, and Jeremy Renner (a real life superhero), and self-effacing hunk Chris Hemsworth. They seem like a team in real life, outside the movie. Someone realized, "Hey, we need to humanise this thing", and they knocked it out of the park by picking exactly the right people. I can't wait to see the next Avengers movie on a giant screen in the theater, and now I have to visit Avengers Campus at California Adventure at Disneyland! 

I've been pondering "Who is the most powerful Avenger"?, and there are many online threads on the subject. The obvious choices would be Thor or Hulk, but some say The Scarlet Witch, who I didn't know of until I saw "Ultron". Remember, I'm an MCU newbie. I can't choose a most-powerful; it could be any of them in their different ways, but my favorite is Captain America.

And that's all I know for today. Thanks for reading. Tons of love, as always. 

May 14, 2025 (Charles B. Pierce, Freda, et al)

Hey guys, pop quiz: Who remembers Charles B. Pierce? Think hard, it'll come to you. Here's a hint: Dawn Wells...

Give up? Charles B. Pierce was an independent filmmaker who directed the all-time classic horror shocker "The Town That Dreaded Sundown". He must've also had a knack for marketing, because he used his middle initial in the credits, which not only Made Him Sound Important, it also let you know that he wasn't just Any Old Charles Pierce, he was Charles B. Pierce, Jack, and to give you an idea of his way with words, he also wrote the legendary Eastwood line "Go ahead...make my day". Now, as you may know, I happen to have a memory for details (and one heck of a memory, period) and I always remembered Charles B.Pierce, not to be confused with another independent filmmaker named Charles Band, who was strictly a horrormeister. Charles B. Pierce made his name in horror with his first film, "The Legend of Boggy Creek" and continued with "Town/Sundown", but in the 1980s he branched out with a Western called "Sacred Ground" that I discovered the other night on Tubi.

Man, the brahmas at Tubi must be some expert filmcasters because they keep unearthing heretofore unheralded gems. "Sacred Ground"(1983) is one such, the story of an Oregon fur trapper (big Tim McEntire, remember him?) who rebuilds a destroyed log cabin in Paiute country in 1861. He's got an Indian wife who's pregnant; now they have a place to live. What he doesn't know is that the cabin they've resurrected is on Paiute burial ground. This ain't "Poltergeist", but the Chief is still pissed off. His braves pull a stunt on Tim and his gal that I won't reveal, and it sets off a chain of revenge. Bug-eyed Jack Elam plays a trader along for the ride. Western staple LQ Jones runs the local wilderness outpost.

This movie is a minor classic and highly recommended. Charles B. Pierce not only wrote and directed but was also the cinematographer. The man was talented, as shown by his eye for landscape and his ability with actors; an early, nine-minute scene with McEntire and LQ inside the general store draws you in to the idea that you're about to see a very good film with a different take.

Tarantino may know it. If not, I've one-upped him again! 

Next up is "The Last Blitzkrieg"(1959), a low budget, b&w WW2 flick notable for being shot (almost) on location - Holland stands in for Belgium's Ardennes Forest. (Mini tirade - whatever happened to Holland? Why is it now "The Netherlands" and can Trump restore the name?) Van Johnson does an admirable job playing the leader of a German commando unit who are impersonating American GIs, right down to their Midwestern accents. They dress in American uniforms and are given a crash course in US culture: "Seig Heil! Who are the Cubs?" "A baseball team from Chi-ca-go, herr Hauptmann". Especially good is Dick York (later of "Bewitched" fame) as a genuine US Sergeant leading a recon patrol. The unusual script greys the line between good guys and bad guys. Ultra-handsome Kerwin Mathews (from the Harryhausen "Sinbad" movies) plays a dedicated Nazi soldier. This is yet another "Tarantino Probably Knows It" flick, and if he doesn't, you know the punch line: "Then I have another one up on him"!

Forget the Diddy Trial. That's nothing. How about The Sue Trial? Now that's something to get worked up about. The only thing is, it may never happen. Unlike Diddy, Sue is a Sovereign Citizen (or so she claims) and therefore cannot be prosecuted...

Question: what kind of trip is Mads Mikkelson on? Perpetual Nordic Stoicism? In "The Salvation"(2015), he's kind of a Danish Liam Neeson, deeply wronged and just as angry but lacking Neeson's Irish passion. Mikkleson is a total Stone Face, which I suppose is what his director wanted. This movie, a new-ish Western, was stylistically excellent but the dazzlery is all on the surface. The photography is computer perfect. The sets are fantastic, the look of the film uniformly grim, but the acting...well, Mads is very good but he's no Liam Neeson, who - though he plays the same role over and over - always makes you feel something. You connect with him. Mikkelson? Less so. And concerning Jeffery Dean Morgan, why does he seem to revel in playing the worst human beings who ever lived? I'm not even sure I like him as a person. That infamous "baseball bat" scene from "The Walking Dead" is the worst obscenity ever put on film or video. So yeah, to sum up: great looking movie in the "computerised, unnaturally lit and colored" sense (i.e. too slick), very good acting all around, but surface level. Eva Green glares her way through her scenes. The story? Nothing but pure violence and revenge. The verdict? A solid 90 minutes of brutal Western vengeance, but not as good as a Liam Neeson version would've been, filmed in natural light. 

Can we do a top ten drummers? 1) Carl Palmer. I've never seen a performance like CP's at Cal Jam, and I've seen Neil Peart 32 times. 2) Neil Peart. If it wasn't for Carl P, no one could touch Neil P. Mike Portnoy? You're joking, right? But even Neil said he couldn't play like Carl Palmer. 3) Ian Paice 4) Bill Ward 5) Jerry Gaskill 6) Phil Collins 7) Cozy Powell 8) Andy Ward 9) Richard Coughlin 10) John Weathers. Honorable mention: Bill Bruford, Nick Mason, and Michael Shrieve, who stole Woodstock...

I go down White Oak on my walks now. I started doing this last Christmas, to see the lights. My walk wasn't just White Oak then, but all of "Sherwood Forest", where my family once lived before it had that insipid name. After Christmas, my walk devolved to include only White Oak, because of the Meissner house, which is unnoccupied now and looks like it has been for quite some time. Walking past, I made the proclamation that it must never be lived in again, but maintained in it's empty, slightly run-down state for evermore: needing a coat of paint, maillbox askew, the right side gate eaten away. "It must never be occupied again," I state when I pass it, and that's because it's a House of Profound Evil, and thus must remain standing as a museum of evil deeds. Lys knows what I'm talking about... 

...and speaking of Lys, I have many routes for my evening walks, which are five miles in length and take about an hour and a half to complete. One such route takes me down Prairie Street to Crebs. I chose that street because a lady named Freda used to live there, on Crebs between Prairie and Plummer. Before she moved to Northridge (and Crebs Street), Freda was Pearl's neighbor in Reseda. Her son Richie was one of my earliest playmates, when I was about four years old, and when I was five and six, Freda would pick us up from school at Lorne Street Elementary. My family moved from Reseda to Northridge in January 1968. Next I heard of Freda, she owned a New Age bookstore in Northridge, lo and behold. It turned out that Freda was a psychic and an expert numerologist, something I didn't know when I was a little kid. My Mom had stayed in touch with her after we moved. Mom was way into astrology (I am, too, because of Mom), and she would occasionally stop in to visit Freda at her bookstore, which was located at Prairie and Reseda Boulevard. That was in the late 1970s. Cut to 2023. Pearl had died two years earlier. I was thinking about her, which caused me to remember Freda, who'd been her neighbor in the early '60s. I Googled Freda, to see if she was still around - she wasn't...she passed away in 2018. I also remembered that when we would drive to the mall, Mom would say, "Freda lives near here, on Crebs Street." Just for the heck of it, I Googled Freda's address. This was in 2023. As noted above, Freda's house was located on Crebs between Prairie and Plummer. One night that Fall, I walked past it. On the other side of Crebs, across from Freda's house, is the little cul-de-sac of Liggett Street. Like Freda, I am psychic too, but not with a natural gift like she had. Freda was so talented, she worked with the LAPD, according to Mom. With me, my ability is closer to an extreme level of intuition, and I have to work at it, but sometimes things "come to me" because I have a lot of memories that have been deliberately blocked or buried. And when I walked past Freda's house, and saw the Liggett Street cul-se-sac, I pictured Lys's car parked there: her famous White VW Rabbit.

Lys was parked there because, in my memory, she was at Freda's house. I was there, too. So was Lilly. Maybe even Ann. This was in the days of The Clandestine Car Rides, early 1990s, maybe '92. Give or take a year. I remember nights when Mom would tell me "Lillian is going to call", and I'd get so excited. It would be a "special" phone call, where I was supposed to let it ring a certain number of times, then wait for her to call back, or I would pick it up and there would be some "beeps" or something before Lilly said "hello". There was some kind of code or system associated with these phone calls, and then Lilly would arrange to meet me. These were the legendary Clandestine Car Rides, which I had no awareness of until 2023. Lys came along on some of them. There were at least three of these rides, maybe one or two more. One time, I met them at the Northridge Mall, to avoid all The Bad Guys at my house. But another time, I met them at Freda's house on Crebs Street. In 2023, I remembered the bronze metal "Sun" face Freda had next to her door. It's still there. I also remembered Mom giving me directions that day, telling me to access Prairie Street by way of the college, to avoid The Bad Guys trying to follow me. "You'll pass a tall hedge on Crebs", she said. "The next house will be Freda's". I remember it was blazing hot that day. When I got there I was worried about being all sweaty when Lillian arrived. Luckily, Freda had good air conditioning. Several people were in the living room: Lys was definitely there, maybe Ann. If Ann was there, I don't think she was big on numerology. Ann is more scientifically-minded. We were waiting for Lilly to arrive, and when she did, Freda gave us some little blessing or ceremony. Soft drinks were served.

Then we left, or at least Lilly and me and Lys did. That's why I remember Lys's White Rabbit, parked on the Liggett Street cul-de-sac. We went on a Clandestine Car Ride, but I don't remember where we went...

My memory often blows my mind, especially since there have been so many things I was deliberately made to forget. One of the Clandestine Car Rides was a visit to see Ann, in some building in the Studio City area. Possibly a medical facility. Lys came along on that one, too, in her own car, which she had to move because it was parked at a meter...

Lys, Lys...where for art thou, Lys? She was something of a hero in those days (especially in 1988/89). Lilly, of course, was and is the one-and-only Lilly. No words can ever suffice. :)

Anyhow, that's the story of Freda and her house. And there's more to it. One day it will be in a book. 

Thanks for reading. Tons of love.

May 6, 2025 (Guitar Solos, Paul Schrader's "Hardcore")

 Hi guys. Tonight, I'm thinking about guitar solos. You might know that I play guitar (though not as much as I used to because of Dupuytrens), and even before I started, at age 19, it was always my favorite instrument. Like many fans, I was always moved by a tremendous guitar solo in a song. From way back I remember feeling this way. One of the first that affected me was in "All Along the Watchtower" by Jimi, and at the opposite end of the spectrum, I loved the gentler but no-less-expressive solo in "Something" by George Harrison. Who would even concieve of playing a solo like that, right?

Of course, it was Sir Richard who first blew me off the map with his solo in "Highway Star" in 1972. In addition to being a connoisseur of guitar solos, I also (modestly) consider myself an expert on them, and as such, I've researched the issue, trying to find a more advanced solo than that one at that time, and I haven't been able to do it. I mean, it still sets a high bar 53 years later, but in 1972 it was unheard of, to play that fast and that clean with that much fire and musicality.

I'm saying all of this, and thinking about guitar solos tonight because - every so often - I like to ponder what the Top Ten might be. You know me, I love lists. I have an innate need to "put things in order", while aknowledging that, "yeah, lists might be stupid, enumerating "The Greatest This or That", but still, I love to do it, just for the heck of it. Also, a few times, I've Youtubed a famous-but-difficult solo to see if any of these modern shredmasters has figured it out. For a long time, I couldn't figure out Ritchie's solo on "Burn", which I consider the greatest of all time. It's my #1, I've known it in my head note-for-note since 1974, and I can hum it. But I never took the time to try to play it, even slowly, because there were just too many notes and bends and whammys. Then, in the last couple years, I found a Youtube Guy who figured it out and posted it, and I set out to copy his example. Now I can play it. Not like Ritchie, but I do a respectable job.

Much harder is Uli Jon Roth's solo in "Still So Many Lives Away". That's also in my Top Ten. I should note that, for me, technical difficulty doesn't give a solo brownie points, or someone like Steve Vai would get all the accolades. But Uli's solo is both technically advanced and extremely musical. It sound like violin playing. I would never have attempted to try learning it, even when I had use of all my fingers, but lo and behold, a Youtube Guy has now replicated it perfectly. These modern-day shredders can't write a memorable song, but they can copy and play anything.

So, with no further ado, let's list The All Time Top Ten Guitar Solos. Before we do, let's define what makes a classic solo. A classic solo, first and foremost, is dramatic. It usually comes in after the chorus following the second verse (and often a bridge). It "takes flight" from the vocal melody and builds on that theme in the guitarist's signature tone and phrasing, and in the very best solos it turns that melody inside out or "plays beside it". Finally, it builds to a crescendo and then climaxes. Think Jimmy Page in "Stairway to Heaven", which many consider the greatest solo of all time. These are the ingredients of a classic guitar solo. Now, what are the ten best? We have one rule: only one solo per guitarist, otherwise Ritchie Blackmore would get at least three and it wouldn't be fair. So here we go. Here are my top ten:

1) "Burn" by Sir Richard Blackmore

2) "Comfortably Numb" by David Gilmour. This or "Stairway" are the consensus #1 among many fans.

3) "Still So Many Lives Away" by Uli Jon Roth

4) "Rock Bottom" by Michael Schenker. Another I thought was unplayable but a Youtube Guy has done it! 

5) "Lonely in the Night" by the great Eric Johnson. It was a tough call between this and EJ's "Desert Rose."

6) "Crying to the Sky" by Bill Nelson. A brief but deeply emotional solo with heart-rending tone.

7) "Wurm" by Steve Howe

8) "Limelight" by Alex Lifeson

9) "Beyond the Realms of Death" by Glenn Tipton. A prime example of the classic, dramatic guitar solo.

10) "Blue Sky" by Dickie Betts. A beautiful solo that takes up most of the song.

You'll notice there are no solos by Edward Van Halen, one of the greatest guitarists of all time and one of my very favorites. You may disagree, but I don't put his solos in the "classic" category, a) because they were almost always brief - more like guitar breaks rather than solos - and b) Ed's playing was so idiosyncratic that he was almost using the entire song structure as a "solo canvas", playing all kinds of voicings, sounds, and "call-and-response" to the vocals. He never played a lengthy solo of the type we are listing. This takes nothing away from him, obviously, but he's His Own Thing and doesn't fit what we are listing. If I had to pick an EVH solo that most resembles our list, it would be the one in "Dreams", which has soaring musicality and drama but is also brief. 

On a side note, I have to mention The Longest Guitar Solo Ever Played (at least as far as I know). That's the one in "Green Grass and High Tides" by The Outlaws. I kid you not: I once went into Trader Joes when that song was playing on the radio. The solo had just started, and I turned the car off, went in the store and shopped...and when I came out and started the car, the solo was still going. I've never forgotten that. 

Some honorable mentions: "Symptom of the Universe" by Tony Iommi, "Fade" by Ty Tabor, "Just One Victory" by Todd Rundgren, "Shesmovedon" by Steven Wilson.

I watched "Hardcore" the other night on Tubi. The movie has historical significance in my life because I first saw it on Saturday February 10, 1979, the day after it opened, which was also two days before I started working at MGM. Eight days earlier, I had driven my sister Vickie to Columbia Studios (aka Warner Bros, The Burbank Studios, etc.) so she could meet with our "Uncle" Earl Hamner to enquire about a part for "The Waltons". I remember the exact date because it was the day Sid Vicious died. I worked for Metrocolor until December 1981, when I was let go following a suspension. As for the movie, "Hardcore" was noted for its X-rated subject matter and the full-frontal nudity of Season Hubley, who co-starred with George C. Scott. His famous, explosive line, "Turn it off.....turn it off....TURN IT OFF!!!" became a meme for me and my friends for a few weeks. We went to see it because it was written and directed by Paul Schrader, and also because of the nude scene (a big deal when you're 18 years old), which turned out to be a half-second long. On first view, the movie didn't make a big impression, possibly because I was preoccupied with starting a major-league job, and was nervous. At the time, we (me and Pat Forducci) thought it was "pretty good" but not great.

Watching it a second time, now aged 65, my opinion is more nuanced. "Hardcore" still doesn't qualify as great, much less a classic like the Schrader-penned "Taxi Driver". It remains "pretty good", but my opinion is affected by my life story. I now applaud Schrader for what I see as his moral excoriation of Hollywood, L.A. Sex Culture and of course the porn "industry", which has since been "legitimized" but began as an out-in-the-open underbelly of lowlifes, mostly men, and the women who were jaded or young and naive enough to "work" for them. Schrader destroys them in this movie. They all get creamed in the end. George C. gets his daughter back. Ya gotta remember that Schrader wrote "Taxi Driver" as a revenge story, in which Travis Bikel - a Vietnam Vet (remember, they were spit on) - cleans up the scum of New York City. "Hardcore" is like  the L.A. sequel to that film, with George C. playing the Travis Bikel role, only this time, he's a version of Schrader himself: a Calvanist father (Schrader was raised Calvanist) whose daughter runs away from home. Season Hubley plays the porn actress who puts her life on the line to help him find her, and when you scrutinize her performance (which is quite good), it's easy to see her as an older version of "Taxi Driver"'s Iris Steensma, the 13-year-old hooker played so memorably by Jodie Foster. Schrader is a moralist, and I think he does believe in God, despite the fact that you can't admit it when you work in Hollywood (Mel Gibson excepted), and he also wrote a third movie called "Rolling Thunder", an all-time revenge masterpiece in which William Devane and the great Tommy Lee Jones go after a bunch of ruthless rednecks who steal Devane's honorary silver dollars (one for each day he was a P.O.W.) and grind his hand off in a garbage disposal.

I like Paul Schrader, not only because he makes good movies but because he hates bad guys as much as I do. His films show the good guys getting revenge as they win. In addition, to Schrader's credit, he was one of two people - the other being me - who saw Scorsese's "Raging Bull" for what it was, a boring waste of celluloid. Critics spewed all over themselves to praise that flick. Gene Siskel called it the greatest film ever made. In reality, it sucked and Schrader nailed it. I've always remembered his quote from an interview: "Marty sure dropped the ball on that one". Well, anyhow...  

How about a few Bands I Wish I'd Seen? We always think of our favorite concerts; what about the ones we missed? For me, the #1 Band I Wish I'd Seen is Van Der Graaf Generator, followed by Gentle Giant, Caravan, Frank Zappa at The Roxy (his legendary 1973 shows), David Bowie at the Santa Monica Civic in 1972, Traffic (same year, same venue), Genesis at The Roxy on the "Selling England" tour, and Elton John at The Troubadour (talk about a legendary show)...so there's a few. I know, I know: what about Jimi, The Four Zepplini Brothers, The Allmans, etc...yeah, I would love to have seen them, too, but the above listed bands are the first I'd go back and see if I had a Time Machine and a ticket to each show.

Anyhow, that's all for tonight. Make sure to listen to the songs with The Top Ten Guitar Solos and see what you think. Thanks for reading and Tons of Love, as always.