Mozart Didn't Play Second Base - By Joesf Behrens

 

A New York Post Surprise

When I entered puberty I developed boils under my left arm which I guess was nature's way of announcing that I was becoming a man. I could have developed boils in other places but I was content to have my left arm immobile for a week. I was fourteen and had to stay home from school for a few days and as luck would have it I had a typewriter ( not electric in those days) which kept my right hand occupied. I was a fanatical Dodger rooter in those days and since I had nothing else to occupy myself I typed out what I thought the finish of both major leagues would .be. The season was just starting. it was early April. I had my thoughts about each of the sixteen teams and I typed out my comments and prognosis as to where each team would finish the season. My mother, God love her, read my article and although she was hardly a baseball fan (Bach and Brahms were her love) suggested that I send the article with a a note to the sports section of The New York Post, telling my age and the fun I had writing the article. I frankly thought she was insane insisting I send the article in but I did so. A few days later my Dad whose office was in New York City was suddenly flooded with phone calls from friends, relatives and business associates wanting to know who the hell was Josef Behrens. Lo and behold the editor of the sports section read my articles and not only printed everythingi in full with my letter, gave me a byline no less, published a three column article with a headline reading "Dodger fan, 14, does experting". Needless to say, my proud father brought home as many of the New York Post he could carry and , of course, I was completely floored. After all these years it remains one of the great thrills of my life. Dad had the article framed and it sits (proudly I might add) in my closet and if you don't believe this crazy little story you are cordially invited to my home to see for yourslf that this story is true. Incidentally I picked the Yankees to win and they did; I picked the Dodgers but they lost to the Cardinals the last week of the season. Oh well, win some, lose some.

Mountain Musings By M.I. Lee

Appalachian Spring

The beauty of spring in the Appalachian Mountains inspired a noted American composer, Aaron Copland, to create his melodic symphony, Appalachian Spring, thereby the title to this article.

Spring arrives softly, sometimes even before the last snow has melted. The first indication is the crimson new growth on Maple trees, standing out in vivid contrast to the muted grays and browns of winter-bare branches, saying “Look at me, I’m the first herald of the new season.” A few weeks later, white begins appearing through the forests as the Silver Bells and Serviceberry (locally called “Sarviceberry”) trees of medium height display their blossoms. Violets carpet the woodland floors in hues from white to deep violet and yellow, displayed against green leaves, some heart-shaped and others like a bird’s foot, after which they were named. Dandelions spring forth, generally unwanted, even though their tender new leaves make tasty salads and steamed greens and their yellow blossoms are like splashes of golden sunlight in a circlet of green leaves. Nestled in shady areas are the highly protected and rare Shortia plants, with their white star-shaped blooms, along with Galax, prized for its shiny leaves, with spikes of small white flowers.

Soon afterwards, Dogwood trees make a dramatic statement throughout the forests with their white “flowers”, even though the white part is a sepal and the real flower is a cluster of tiny yellow bracts in the center, hardly noticeable. Along with these are the Redbud trees, often called “Judas Trees” from lore that casts them as the tree from which the traitorous disciple hanged himself. As with Dogwoods, they are small-sized trees with clusters of fuchsia-colored blossoms. Wild plum adds to the white-blossomed complement of small trees.

Interspersed with nature’s display are the non-native flowering trees including Flowering Pear, an extremely showy white-blossomed tree; Flowering Peach, Plum and Cherry, all quite spectacular and colorful, and Wisteria, a vine with its panacles of lavender blooms. Daffodils, narcissus, tulips, crocuses, irises, clematis and a myriad of blooming bulbs and flowers make their appearance and transform even the humblest abode into a thing of beauty.

Several weeks later, Flame Azalea, a bushy plant sometimes called “Honeysuckle” makes its triumphant entry with fragrant blooms from deep coral to white, along with its relative, the Pinkster”, whose name describes the color of its blossoms. Not to be outdone is the showy Catawba Rhododendron shrub, denizen of the higher mountain ridges, with large clusters of fuchsia-colored blooms that elicit oohs and aahs from viewers. Along with them are the Mountain Ash trees with their large clusters of white blooms that presage their impressive fall showing of bright red berries. Terrestrial orchids, such as pink and white Lady Slipper, Showy Orchis, Fringed Orchis and others are there for the seekers of nature’s beauty.

Another several weeks pass and Mountain Laurel sends forth its clusters of blossoms with colors ranging from soft to deep pinks. The banks of mountain streams and rivers are festooned with these shrubs, and their reflection in the water enhances the vision. Then comes the Rhododendron of the mid-elevations, a shrub with great shiny deep green leaves and huge bracts of flowers with hues of pink from nearly white to medium. This is accompanied by the Punk Tatum Rhododendron, a smaller cousin with equally delightful bracts of lavender-pink flowers. And not to be overlooked are the brambles of honeysuckle, an invasive vine that has exceptionally fragrant blossoms which youngsters and adults alike pluck and sip the nectar therefrom.

Many varieties of cultivated rhododendron are planted throughout the area. Blooms range from red, pink, purple and fucsia, to yellow, coral and white, and the plant sizes are from miniature to full-size. All are spectacular.

The Story of Appalachian Spring begins in early March and proceeds until early August. It’s no wonder Copland was so enchanted with this beautiful place that he was inspired to write his symphony.

Mozart Didn't Play Second Base - By Joesf Behrens

Uncles and more Uncles

I was born and raised in Paterson N.J.; My mother was born and raised in Paterson N.J. This unimportant fact has absolutely no bearing on this article but I thought it might raise a few eyebrows knowing that the family settled in Paterson in 1895.This city during the depths of the depression in the 30's when I was a boy was a lovely residential community replete with parks and beautiful one family homes. I t was a wonderful place for a boy to grow up in. Which leads me to the meat and potatoes of this narrative - my mother's four brothers who, as it fortuitously turned out, were also my uncles. And what uncles they were! Having those uncles around was like living in the middle of a circus tent. They were enormously talented, all comedians (George Burns had nothing on them), all family oriented, all giving and they all loved me fiercely - bless me.. Being in the bosom of that wonderful family (and please don't think that my aunts were any different God bless them) was like living in a George S. Kaufman comedy. My eldest uncle Leo - in those days the first born always received most of the opportunities and already was a fine, concert violinist when he was sent to continue his studies in Berlin prior to World War 1. One of his letters home described a concert in Berlin with a young 12 year old boy who played the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto with the philharmonic. He stated that he never expected to hear violin playing like that again in his lifetime and was ready to trash his violin - the boy was Jascha Heifetz. . Leo , who was the "star" of the family subsequently became music director of WOR Mutual, and conducted the Newark Symphony Orchestra. And although married and as straight as a yardstick his gay routine was the best I ever saw. The second oldest was my uncle Herman aho had the distinction of not only opening the first circus in town but also its first silent movie theater. My teenage mother who couldn't read music yet played the piano for Herman in the theater. His chief claim musically was to play the first movement of the aforementioned Mendelssohn concerto with only his index finger. What a family. Herman was also incredibly funny. Then there were my marvelous, wonderful twins - Irving and Eddie who would have performed in vaudeville as twin tap dancers except for the fact that my grandfather of the old German school wouldn't allow it since it didn't portray the family image properly. Those two uncles. Eddie learned how to play violin by watching his older brother practice - he never took a lesson and wound up in the Memphis Symphony. He always bragged that he played before all the crowned heads of Europe and some very peculiar people in Pennsylvania. Irving on the other hand couldn't play the violin the normal way but he played it like a cello between his legs. He was so adept that he headed a program on the radio in Memphis as the "unknown violinist" And I must tell you that he played the hell out of that "cello fiddle".

The benevolent influence these extraordinary uncles had on my life was prophetic. At the age of two I was fully immersed in classical music. Watching my uncles tap dance and perform musically, seeing and hearing Leo (my idol) play a phenomenal violin (in spite of Heifetz!), enjoy playing the violin in school with my mother at the piano. My four uncles didn't belong in a normal home - people should have paid to see them in a theater. They're all gone now and at the age of 82 I cherish those wonderful memories.

Food for Haitians

Mountain Musings

This morning my husband and I had a wonderful opportunity of participating as one of many volunteers in the assembling of fifty thousand packets of food mix destined for Haiti. The event was sponsored by Western North Carolina Rotary Clubs in conjunction with the international organization Stop Hunger Now (www.stophungernow.org) and held in communities across the the district during the next several weeks.

More than 1 billion people do not have enough to eat. In developing countries 10.9 million children under age 5 die each year. This translates into a child dying every six seconds from a hunger-related cause. This is not because of food shortages. In fact, there are enough sustainable food resources, processing potential and distribution know-how to feed everyone on earth.

Stop Hunger Now's Meal Packaging Program is a volunteer-based effort through which participants package high protein, dehydrated meals for use in crisis situations such as presently exists in Haiti. Through a fun and engaging assemply-line process, a team of 40 volunteers can package 10,000 meals in just two hours. Meal packaging events are conducted by volunteer groups of all ages from churches, schools and other community organizations such as Rotary.

Stop Hunger Now's meals are highly nutritious dehydrated foods. Each healthy packet consists of one cupful of soy protein, 1 tbsp. of dried mixed vegetables, one tsp. of 21 essential multi-vitamin/mineral powder and one cupful of enriched rice. Mixed with water and cooked, it is sufficient to feed a family of six and costs approximately 25 cents to make. The meals are easy to transport, store and distribute to those in greatest need.

Jean Kendy, a 2nd grade student from Cite Soleil School in Haiti says of the meal, "I love Stop Hunger Now rice a lot...I can't have enough of this rice. When my parents send me to school without anything to eat, they don't worry because they know I will eat at school. I pray every day for the people who send the rice."

Stop Hunger Now depends on donations to fund each meal packaging event. Contributions may be sent by using the website address above and following online directions. The group's vision is to end world hunger in our lifetime and its mission is to provide food and life-saving aid to the world's most destitute and hungry in the most sustainable, efficient and effective manner. To date, over 20 million meals have been provided, with Western North Carolina adding another million to the ever-increasing total. If you are interested in participating in or scheduling an event through a location near you, visit www.stophungernow.org/locations.

It was a very rewarding experience to have hands-on participation in an effort where basic needs of impoverished people who can barely exist amid the devastation of their communities are met through this worthy program. I have grieved over the Haitian plight and made a monetary contribution, but working alongside a couple of hundred volunteers, all with the same objective in mind and with cheerful attitudes, made me feel as if I had really done something to make their lives a little better.

M.I. Lee

Mozart Didn't Plat 2nd Base - By Josef Behrens

Carmen - and we don't mean Miranda

Costumes. Costumes. When one thinks of costumes,especially if you're an opera buff, the New York Metropolitan Opera Co. comes to mind because they are world famous and probably have the best and most authentic costumes of any opera company. Anyway when I was a high school freshman our local professional opera company (pardon the expression) decided to stage Bizet's "Carmen" at the local high school. The stage was hardly large enough for a jazz quartet let alone an opera but the local company plowed forward and rented costumes from the New Yorkers. Since I was, even at a relatively early age very active in the school's music department I was asked to dress and act like an authentic matador (silly in itself since I was a kid living on the East side of Paterson, N.J. and what the hell did I know about acting like a bullfighter) At any rate I was clothed in red velvet, with a black velvet hat and adorned with a cummerbund - the crux of this little narrative. I was asked to attach the cummerbund to my waist, turn in circles to the costume director, who then clipped it into place. I complained to him that the cummerbund seemed loose but he assured me that it was fine. "Look Ma! I'm a real matador!".The scene where Escamillo. the hero of the opera, enters the bull fight arena to the cheers of the crowd.was next. There I was walking (or strutting as it seemed) to the center of the stage where the arena entrance stood, I got halfway there and my pants fell down (oops). Strange tthing that after all these decades I don't remember a thing about the opera, the singers, the orchestra and the like except the feeling of my pants sliding down my adolescent leg.

Chile struck by 8.8 earthquake

One of the largest earthquakes ever recorded struck the South American Republic of Chile on saturday, and sent tsunami warnings throughout the world. The President of Chile Michelle Bachelet declared a national state of emergency, but the country has not yet asked for assistance from other countries. If it does, the United States "will be there", according to President Barack Obama. Our hopes and prayers are with the brave people of this Andean nation as they recover and rebuild from this disaster.

Mozart Didn't Play Second Base - By Joesf Behrens

A Football Classic

Nomura and Kurusu. Does anyone remember these names? We'll get back to them later. Anyway it was a cold but pleasant Sunday and the football New York Giants were scheduled to play the football Brooklyn Dodgers before 55,000 roaring fans at the Polo Grounds in New York. Did I say the "football" Brooklyn Dodgers? You betcha. Those were the years that Brooklyn had a football as well as a baseball team.The football Dodgers were mighty good too.They had All-American Ace Parker as quarterback and Bruiser Kinard an All-American lineman among others. And for good measure they beat the Giants that day 21-7 in spite of the fact that the Giants had some great pros such as Tuffy Leamans, Ward Cuff, Hank Soar, Mel Hein and Al Blozis. These names should be familiar to old sports fans like me.

So there we were sitting in chilly comfort on the 50 yard line - my father, one of his buddies and I who was fourteen at the time. I had been an avid newspaper reader from the age of seven; we always had five daily papers in our house and I was acutely aware of world news constantly. I knew that the aforementioned two gentlemen from Japan were in discussion with our Secretary of State Cordell Hull concerning the Indo-China crisis. It was learned later that those two envoys were not aware of what their navy was doing at the time. Incredible but true. Announcements started to come across the loudspeaker system during halftime - will Colonel So snd So, will General So and So etc etc please call your office immediately. I said to my father, ever the doubting Thomas,that something was peculiar about all the announcements but he shrugged it off as only procedure. Nothing was announced to the crowd as to prevent a stampede to the exits.

When we left the park we were besieged by boys hawking the New York Inquirer with the headlines "Japs Bomb Pearl Harbor". My father's reaction was typical of a tried and true New York advertising executive that one couldn't believe anything in that paper because it was, at best, a scandal sheet and they were trying to trick people into buying the paper. So off we went on the subway to the George Washington bridge, on a bus to New Jersey where our car was parked (people had to go to great lengths to see a ball game in those days). In all this time we never heard one word about the raid either on the bus or the subway. We didn't have a radio in our car (few people had one in those bygone days) and it wasn't until we reached home when I rushed into the house, turned on the radio and finally knew what had happened. It was December 7, 1941.

Mozart Didn't Play Second Base - By Joesf Behrens

Talented Children
Some events defy description. Even tiny ones. I was awakened about 6 am by one of the most astounding sounds I had ever heard. I leaped out of bed and ran into my six month old daughter Lisa's room and there she was on her stomach looking at me with a smile having just hummed "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in the exact melody. When I relayed this incredible story to my friends they looked at me with a quizzical stare assuming I had just been released from a lunatic asylum because it was absolutely impossible for a six month old baby to hum anything in tune. But it did happen. It really did.

Her unusual talent carries me forward about ten years when Lisa was eleven. She was studying piano with Eleanor Statmore, an excellent pianist and a superb teacher. If you were ever as a child a piano or violin pupil you probably remember that every few months the teacher arranged "recitals" with her most promising students performing for an audience of appreciative and adoring family and friends. I wasa professional violinist and violist in those days and Eleanor and I had fun playing Mozart, Beethoven and the like for a select group of close family until some times, completely engrossed in our playing, we were still at it until two or even three in the morning. We usually stopped playing, grudgingly at times, when we were exhausted and realized what an ungodly hour it was.

Eleanor always asked me to play a special solo for her recitals as a special treat and my wife volunteered to accompany me in Fritz Kreisler's "Praeludium and Allegro", a standard encore selection for a violin recital. My wife and I earnestly practiced every day until we felt that the piece sounded well enough for an audience. I was the professional and my wife was an amateur but I have to add that she played a helluva good piano. I fully expected her to dutifully sit at the piano keyboard and accompany me. I could have been knocked over with a musical feather when Lisa sat down at the piano instead. Let me tell you friends this was no "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".What I did't know that as soon as her mother finished practicing Lisa, who had been hiding and intently listening to every note, would rush in and emulate exactly what her mother had been playing. It was, needless to say a tremendous shock to me albeit a very pleasant one. Lisa and I displayed great sympatico considering that we had never played anything together before. I must add that my son, Brett, also a fine pianist in his own right, often played Mozart sonatas with me. I was blessed with two very talented children..

Mozart Didn't Play Second Base - by Joesf Behrens

Frustrations of a Brooklyn Dodger fan


My how time flies. As a boy I suffered the immense torture of being a Brooklyn Dodger baseball fan. Ah sweet innocence. Red Barber comes to Brooklyn as the Dodger radio announcer and Leo Durocher takes over as Dodger manager. Those two developments in late 1938 turned me from an innocent baseball fan into a fervent, obsessed Dodger junkie. And for the most part a disappointed kid. From 1939 to 1957 I lived and died with the Dodgers. Disappointment after disappointment filled those years. Only once did the team thrill me and win a world series - 1956 - and before I could even savor our monumental victory over the hated Yankess the team left me in the lurch and fled to Los Angeles.

To recap for my readers the Dodgers won the pennant in 1941 only to lose to the Yankees in great part due to catcher Mickey Owen's error on a third strike to Tommy Henrich.In 1942 ahead of St.Louis in the race for the pennant their all star center fielder, Pete Reiser,crashed into the concrete wall in St. Louis sustained a fractured skull and was never the same. The Dodgers lost the pennant by three games.In 1946, the first full season after the war they again lost to the Cardinals(beginning to sound familiar?) in a playoff game no less. It was always the Cardinals who in those days made the team look like bums. In addition to the great Stan Musial who hit homers over the right field wall at Ebbets Field the Cards had a left handed pitcher name of Max Lanier who only had to throw his glove on the mound at which the Dodgers rolled over and died. . In 1947 they won the pennant again only to lose to (guess) the dreaded Yankees. In 1949 they lost the series to (guess again) the Yankees. In that series Gil Hodges, their star first baseman went completely hitless. All these years were enough to drive an ordinary fan insane. I was not an ordinary fan - I was a fanatic.

Let's move on to 1950, the year of the Philadelphia Phillies "Whiz Kids" who beat the Dodgers on the last day of the season no less. But the cruelest blow of all those many years was 1951, like Pearl Harbor in baseball parlance was the year of infamy for the Dodgers and their fandom. The team was ahead of the New York Giants by 13 and a half games by mid August - a runaway - it was so so easy. All of a sudden the Giants caught fire, the Dodgers stumbled and the Giants caught them at the very end of the season forcing a three game playoff series. That was the year of the Bobbie Thomson home run which broke thousands of hearts completely, including mine and 1953 saw another series loss to the Yankeees. Incredible isn't it that one team for all those years should have had a jinx on another team? So it was. In 1955 again against the Yankees I found myself at Yankee Stadium for the fourth game of the world series and, lo and behold, Don Larsen of the Yanks pitches the first perfect game in world series history. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. But I guess every dog has his day and in 1956 the Brooklyns actually beat the Yankees in the world series and did it again in 1963.The 1963 win didn't really count because the Dodgers were already in Los Angeles. So all those years passed when I was young rooting for a team that never won the big one except for one year. Strange to say, in spite of my youthful disappointments my love of baseball has endured to this day. Except I don't love the Dodgers anymore.

Good Snow, Bad Snow

Mountain Musings

By M.I. Lee


Good Snow, Bad Snow

This winter has been one in which the pundits have raised much speculation over its implications insofar as Global Warming is concerned.

While I won’t enter into that debate, I am interested in making some observations on weather during the past 30 days.

How one sees it depends on many factors: convenience/inconvenience, beauty/ugliness, expense/economy, North/South/East/West, and others.

Let’s just take a look at the most recent snowfall in the Eastern U.S. and its effect on two places: Washington, D.C. and Franklin, North Carolina.

In Washington, it brought nearly everything to a halt, including Congress, which, judging from the state of their previous inaction, was simply another aspect of their governance. No one could get in or out of the area. Air and land travel ceased. Power was out in many areas. Their distress was broadcast throughout the world. This was a “BAD SNOW” in every sense of the word to them.

Here in the Southern Appalachians, it was different. “Snow Days”, when schools are closed due to weather, brought children and their families out for sledding on snowy roads and ice skating on lakes that hadn’t been so frozen for years. Other people stayed at home and clustered around the fireplace in periods of togetherness that are rare nowadays. Mouth-watering meals were cooked that warmed the body and pleased the palate. Our heroes, the road crews, worked early and late to ensure that those who needed to travel to work could get there safely. Tales were told in the local coffee shops about how deep the snows were “in the olden days”. Bird food was strewn atop the snow for our feathered friends, squirrels and various nocturnal creatures who need the sustenance when natural food is scarce.

There are two scenes from our snowfall that stand out in my mind. The first and foremost is centered on a Tulip Poplar tree that stands at the edge of our lawn directly in view of our living room window. The upper limbs were sawed off by power company crews a few years ago, so that new growth emerged lower on the trunk. That encouraged the tree to send out its beautiful green and orange tulip-shaped blooms at a lower elevation than the top of the tree, which is the common place. In spring we fully enjoyed this treat-but there was more. After the bloom petals drop and the seeds are released, the sepals become hardened and stand upright in a fluted manner. With the recent snowfall, which was dry and fluffy, the sepal cups each held a “tulip” bud of white snow, and the tree was festooned with them. I had never before experienced such a sight, even though I have had many years of snowfall experiencing.

The second, although not so dramatic, scene was when the sun came out after the snowfall. The sky was a deep cobalt blue, and the snow-covered mountainsides and vegetation stood out in sharp contrast. Then, suddenly, the angle of the sun’s beams lit up the snow with the sparkle of a trillion diamonds; a bedazzling sight to behold.

Those were the reasons for our snow being a “GOOD SNOW”.

DOMESTIC TERRORIST TARGETS IRS - Suicide attack in Austin TX

A man identified as Joesph Andrew Stack crashed his Piper Cherokee single engine plane into an Austin Texas office building which housed over 200 government tax workers. Joesph Stack, a software engineer who had relocated to the San Marco Texas area, had a documented history of payment problems with the IRS and had posted an anti-government manifesto and suicide note on his website which advocated violence. These are his words:

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here?

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.

On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.

In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer… and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).

SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL - Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. - This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. - The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:

· “another person” is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.

· “taxpayer” is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.

· “individual”, “employee”, or “worker” is you.

Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.

Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a s*** about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a f*** about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.

So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy f*** up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet Barack Hussein Obama and his cronies certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of s*** at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.

I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)

02/18/2010

In response: it goes without saying that Mr. Stack's actions this morning have been absolutely deplorable and inexcusable, violence is NOT the answer, violence is NEVER the answer. However, I believe that we all can identify somewhat with his plight. In an era of unheeded government growth and diminishing personal freedoms, it is quite easy to feel powerless and alienated. It is true that things look worse than ever, but the night is always darkest before the dawn. It may seem like your voice is not being heard, but never forget that you, you reading this, you have a voice, you have your integrity, and if we all come together and make our voices heard, people will listen. There is no excuse for violence. The human race is too good to destroy itself this way. All over the world I have known and seen decent people ready to believe in good and work together towards real solutions. I urge you all to do the same, and our prayers are with the people of Austin on this dark day.

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Taking Charge of Our Lives

Mountain Musings by M.I. Lee

Yesterday I was the recipient of one of the best compliments I have ever received. It came from my esteemed physician who has cared for me and the state of my health for over five years and who is moving on to a career of research and lecturing. Her background and skills are phenomenal, so I was deeply moved and honored by these words from her “I am honored to have been your physician. You are one of only a few patients of mine who take responsibility for their own health."

Taking Responsibility for One’s Own Health-Getting Answers to the Why?

One would think that every person would have a self-serving interest in his/her own state of health as to take responsibility for it, but, alas, that is not the case, other than for a few. Good health is not limited to being able to function adequately, see and hear reasonably well, eat food and get some exercise. These are the easy ways out that may enable us to slide by without major health problems for a few years, but when the boom drops, then what?

We have a pain in our chest, so we go to a cardiologist, who gives us pills to keep it from getting worse. He tells us to cut down on eating fats and get more exercise, but he never brings up what the root cause or causes are, and what we need to correct the imbalance in our lives. We depend on him, so we don’t check further into the “why?”.

We feel a lump or have difficulty urinating, so we go to an oncologist, who finds evidence of cancer and prescribes radiation, chemotherapy and/or excision. Again, he doesn’t tell us why it happened, so we meekly follow his recommendations.

We break out in a rash that itches constantly, so go to a dermatologist who gives us a prescription for an ointment that causes our skin to thin and peel off, but gives only brief relief to the itching. We ask “Why?” and receive the trite answer that it’s because of “our age”.

We keep getting the flu, winter and summer, and ask our doctor for antibiotics to help us heal, but we continue to smoke, breathe contaminated air, and eat tainted foods that caused the problem initially. Additionally, we build up a resistance to antibiotics in the process so that when we really need them for pneumonia or similar conditions, they are useless.

I could go on and on with these examples, but believe you see where I’m heading. The “Why?” is the thing we ignore. Why is that? Because we are led to believe that we don’t understand our own bodies enough to figure out the “Why?”, so we need a medical practitioner, who still doesn’t answer that question. Why is that? Simply because it was never addressed in the medical schools they attended, so, to them, it is of no consequence.

The Internet is slowly changing this picture for those who may not be satisfied with pat answers. That is how I found my initial practitioner in Alternative (Integrative) Medicine some 10 years ago. That is where I go when I (age 84) or my husband (age 93) have a symptom I cannot readily identify. There I check out the causes of the problem, and if there is something he or I can do simply and naturally to improve the situation, then we do it. If not, we hand the matter over to our highly skilled and knowledgeable doctor (M.D.) who tests the elements in our blood to determine if we have too little or too much of any of them and gives us individualized supplements, if needed, to restore the balance in our systems. I take no pharmaceuticals, and my husband only a few.

Then it is up to each of us to follow what is required to regain control of our own health.

There are three online newsletters by highly respected and skilled Integrative and/or Alternative medical practiitioners: Andrew Weil, Chairman of the Department of Integrative Medicine at the University of Arizona School of Medicine; Dr. Joseph Mercola (D.C.), who has made it his life’s goal to learn as much as possible about the human body and the ways we can care for it and have it function as nature intended; and Dr. David Williams, also highly skilled and keenly interested in our well-being.

If we take charge of our own health, we will find answers to the “Whys’?” and we will live a healthy, happy and fulfilling life into advanced years.

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Mozart Didn't Play 2nd Base - By Joesf Behrens

My first day in Tokyo

Imagine. You're eighteen years old just out of basic training, just finishing your first year in college and you find yoursef In Tokyo, Japan standing with 250 other young fellows in the lobby of the Dai Ichi building - General MacArthur's headquarter location. We're just across from the moat leading to the Emperor Hirohito's imperial palace. Imagine! I had studied violin and conducting at the Institute of Musical Art (part of the Juilliard School of Music in New York) and becuse of my education was appointed with two other lucky guys to run the ship's newspaper on our 16 day voyage to Japan. We had a great time and figured that with the experience of running the daily paper we had the inside track of working on "Stars and Stripes" the army newspaper. Unfortunately only one us made it - it wasn't me. I had been assigned to general headquarters and had visions of pounding a typewriter for God knows how long.

So here I am finally at the head of this long line facing a redheaded PFC and announcing my name when the PFC looks at me and says "are you Behrens?' I mumbled "yes" assuming I would be hanged when he picked up the phone and said "Sergeant Hoff I have Behrens here" To my shock he asked if I knew where the Ernie Pyle theater was. Of course I said no and he gave me directions for the two block walk.I had heard briefly about the theater how it was named for Enrnie Pyle, the beloved war correspondent who was killed on Okinawa. It was the Japanese equivalent of Radio City Music Hall. I reached this enormous theater and took the elevator , as directed, to the third floor where Sergeant Hoff heartily greeted me and escorted me to the captain's office. Like the good recruit that I was I saluted and was immediately told that one doesn't salute in this office and was cordially asked to sit by the captain's side. The captain was Gerald Cameron, all smiles, who then introduced me to an older gentleman named Claus Pringsheim, the conductor of the Ernie Pyle Symphony Orchestra whose existence was a complete mystery to me. Cameron had all the records and information on me (Suddenly it dawned on me that all the talking I spouted off at Fort Dix, New Jersey actually accomplished something!). Cameron then asked me if would consider being concert master of the orchestra. When I picked myself up from the floor I gasped that I would like the position very much but told Cameron that I didn't have my violin. He laughed and said the theater had plenty of fiddles but immediately wired my family and thanks to my grandfather who handled everything my violin arrived two weeks later and incredible as it might seem was perfectly in tune! Picking up that violin so far from home was like greeting a member of my family. At any rate that first night, with a cheap violin and not having read any music for six months I joined the orchestra and played two Bach Brandenburg Concertos . Two days in Tokyo, knowing no one, eighteen years old and suddenly the concert master of a 100 piece orchestra. It boggles the mind.

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Art for Art's Sake - By Leith Eaton

Realm of Artistic Expression

By Leith Eaton

Having raised my family on my own as an Artist in the midst of challenging times, I have nonetheless totally dedicated my work to uplifting Mankind through the use of Art as a Universal Language. As the founder of the International Arts Association, I have furthered my quest on a much broader scale. On my journey, the most challenging of obstacles is the fact that in recent history, noted Art Figures, Juries, Critics and Museums have promoted Pornography to be Art that it is not Art at all. The definition of pornography is “that without Art”. Why is it that the highest-paid living Artists are producing pornographic replacements for Art and why is it that our State-operated Art Museums are promoting these replacements for Art? Lucian Freud is one of the highest paid living Artists and I appreciate his technique because my technique, Scintillism, has some similarities to his dry brush technique. Freud’s work was recently exhibited at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. I was invited to attend the exhibit by one of the members of the International Arts Association who was a former professor of Otis and Parsons. As I was viewing the 300 pound nude transvestites and other works I looked around at the shock and dismay of adults and children alike who were disturbed by the perversity of the exhibition. One of the docents who was giving a tour was asked why the works were so perverse. The docent was at a loss for words. I felt sorry for the docent and it was truly a sad commentary for The Museum and for the state of affairs in The Art World in general.

As a fellow Artist, my intention is not to undermine the talent or ability of another Artist, and I am certainly far from being a prude however this is being written to point out that in order to get ahead in today’s Art World it appears as if one must compromise his or her values and produce something that is perverse and shocking, forgetting to produce the true essence of Art. For instance the Artist Eves Klein’s painting was sold for over $1,000,000 at auction. It was done by covering nude bodies in paint and asking them to smear their bodies on the canvas. There should be some sort of distinction between pornography, freedom of expression and Art. Freedom of expression is one thing, however, what about Art for Arts sake? Anything perverse cannot be artistic. It can be graphic, but not artistic! In some of our State-operated Museums there are exhibitions with American Flags being stuffed in a toilet seat and where the public is being invited to walk on the Flag and write down their comments. Again I ask is this Art for Art’s sake? No, this is not Art. It may be a form of expression, however in my opinion it is not art. Several years ago I attended an exhibition in New York at PS1 where one of the exhibits was of human intestines strung all over the room. Is this Art? There are many exhibits that have gruesome and pornographic subjects and again I understand that this is a form of expression, but I believe we need to label it as something other than Art and recognize it as a tool of expression that is similar to a picket or protest sign or a commercial product trying to solicit a certain way of thinking or action. It simply is not Art for Art's sake and our noted Art Figures, Juries, Critics and Museums should not be promoting them that way. I am hoping that especially after September 11, 2001 that there s a new awareness of the importance of values not only in our society as a whole but also the Society of Art.

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Mountain Musings - By M.I.Lee

PEACE VS. PROFIT?

The word “Profit” derives from the Latin, meaning “benefit”. If an action benefits only one or a few, does it cause harm to the remainder? This is a question that is becoming more relevant each day, where obscene profits are made without regard to their consequences.

There are a few examples of profits being made by decision-makers who pay more than lip service to those who are affected by their actions. One of these won the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize, but whose name is not on the list of the World’s richest, nor on the lips of millions in countries other than Bangladesh and who is the subject of a cover article in Ode magazine’s December 2006 issue, with the title “Turning Poverty Into Peace”.

His name is Muhammad Yunus and in Bangladesh he is making a huge impact on bringing people out of poverty with dignity. Head of the economics department at Chittagong University, he “went to villages and worked with people who were starving, lent them money from his own pocket-sometimes less than a dollar-and told them to pay it back whenever they could.” This grew into an institution, Grameen Bank, which followed the principles of providing micro-loans, and which has shown a 98 percentage of loans repaid on time, unlike other commercial banks. Did the bank make a profit? Of course, but that was not the driving force behind its efforts. First and foremost was eradication of poverty and providing an instrument to promote sustainable peace in afflicted areas.

Peace. Is it defined by “Cold Wars”, as the prevailing world view appears to believe, or is it living in harmony with all peoples of all nations? The Christian Bible speaks of “beating swords into plowshares”. Until leaders of nations and their followers recognize that they are moving the world into self-destruct by their actions or inactions, there will be no peace. Until multinational corporations accept responsibility for the results of their actions or inactions, there will be no peace.

If we follow the examples of Yunus, Gandhi, Jesus and others who not only spoke words of peace, but lived it by their actions, we, our governments and corporations will start thinking differently and having profit only one of a set of benign motives to justify their occupying space on this earth.

Yes, peace can be profitable if we treat people the way we wish to be treated.

Emily Dale

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MOZART DIDN'T PLAY SECOND BASE --- by Josef Behrens





MOZART DIDN'T PLAY SECOND BASE --- by Josef Behrens

When I was three years old my father and twin uncles took me to my first baseball game. Needless to say I was enthralled. When I was seven they took me to my first major league game at Yankee Stadium where we sat in field boxes near Lou Gehrig and Hank Greenberg. The final score was 8 to 7 but for the life of me I can't remember whether if was New York or Detroit who won. No matter. A few years later when my baby sister turned eight I took her to Yankee Stadium. She had never seen a baseball game (no TV in those days) and immediately became a fanatic fan and still is to this day.Go figure. Anyway with all this love of baseball hovering around me of course,I couldn't get enough of it even though I was too young to read the box scores in the paper. My ever present violin lessons (unfortunately for my musical bent mother) had absolutely nothing to do with baseball but throwing a ball around with my friends (none of whom had to practice the violin) took precedence over practicing scales.Which brings me to the gist of this little story.When I was a boy there were no board games other than Monopoly although we did have marbles and toy soldiers. So we were obliged to make up our own games. We did play baseball with a tennis ball and - I must digress - when I was ten I hit 72 home runs (still a tennis ball record) wthout mind you any steroids.Sorry about the interruption because now I want to get to that part of this tale which has always tickled me not to mention my mother. This story has to do with a tennis ball and six house painters. As a boy I lived in a two family house next to another two family house (they were very common in those bygone days).. There was the ever present driveway between the houses which accommodated one car. The six painters were busily painting that side of our neighor's house directly by my driveway. By the way I was, for the record, eleven at this time and a rabid Brooklyn Dodger fan whose announcer was Red Barber, my idol.

Well I decided to invent a baseball game using my trusted tennis ball. I put together in my mind two teams and two lineups none of which really existed and proceeded to throw the ball in the air. The idea of the game was that the higher I threw the ball the further the "batter" had hit it. If the ball nudged the roof it was a home run. Emulating my idol Red Barber i broadcast the game pitch by pitch and hit by hit. Suddenly my mother called out "Josef come in for lunch"at which the painters dropped their brushes and in unison yelled "Hey lady he can't go in now it's the ninth inning!" Boy did I love baseball.

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BILL CLINTON HOSPITALIZED IN NYC

BREAKING NEWS - Bill Clinton has been admitted for emergency heart surgery at New York Presbyterian Hospital Thursday to get two stents implanted after he felt "discomfort in his chest," and continues to be in "good spirits", according to Clinton laywer Douglas Band. Though we may not always have agreed with President Clinton's politics, he is only a human being, like all of us, and our thoughts and prayers go with him.

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Aida at the New York Met

Sure I watched the Super Bowl along with millions of other wide-eyed fans, but being a classical music devotee I could have easily lived without that horrible noise at halftime which many of my friends - God love 'em - call music.Luckily before the game I was enthralled with a New York Metropolitan Opera production of Verdi"s Aida which is recognized by many critics of Italian opera as the greatest opera ever written. Having played all these operas in my capacity as a professional violinist and violist, and sawing mightily away while the singers on stage strove to warble a la Caruso and Callas, I must admit that I heartily agree with these critics as to the greatness of this opera. For those of my readers not acquainted with grand opera, Aida is a story of doomed lovers in ancient Egypt. Its premiere was held in Cairo (rightly so) in 1875. In this production my plaudits go to the scenery designer - the scenery was fabulous, the costumes were gorgeous, the ballet which (if you know the reputation of the Met) was thrilling and the orchestra whose excellence didn't surprise me. The singing of the leads, especially Aida and Amneris (the daughter of the king), left little to be desired although Radames (the male lead) disappointed me somewhat at least compared to some tenors I have heard in this role. For the life of me I can't fathom how the Met, knowing this performance would be shown nationally on TV, would allow such overweight singers in these leading roles. Look I'm a fiddle player who played these operas and I remember vividly looking up from the orchestra pit seeing reasonably fit singers going full throttle on these great arias. I enjoyed that immensely. Aida is exciting opera filled with extraordinary music, and a tragic story of doomed lovers. Quite frankly it was not only unhealthy but also unappealing to see the two obese leads practically filling up the sealed tomb in the final scene. I would think that in a multi-million dollar production, one appearing on national TV no less, that the directors could spare the expense of a personal trainer and nutritionist for their leading performers in such a high-profile production. It's just a simple suggestion, the New York Met is one of the premiere opera companies in the world and the physical fitness of their star performers sends a strong message to viewers in their audience and on television of what they should personally aspire to. Especially now at time when childhood obesity has been declared a national epidemic, it's not so much to ask that The Met be conscious of their star performers physical shape and health. Furthermore, it detracts from the experience of an opera that's intended to be a great exotic tragedy of doomed lovers. Frankly if I wanted to see elephants singing , I'll go rent a Disney movie.

MOZART DIDN'T PLAY SECOND BASE - by Josef Behrens

MOZART DIDN'T PLAY SECOND BASE --- by Josef Behrens

AN INTERCEPTION to tuck the game away. A team, a city that never won anything wins The Super Bowl! The Colts couldn't lose because they had Peyton Manning, couldn't lose mind you - they lost in spite of Manning - an interception against probably the greatest quarterback in history. IT boggles the mind. The second the ball was intercepted I exclaimed "My God that's the game!" I shouldn't play favorites, but let's face it - New Orleans has suffered so badly - the hurricane destroyed so much, killed so many, cost the city a great percentage of its population. Heartbreaking, so here come The Saints by golly to win The 44th Super Bowl against a team heavily favored, such is football!