Ah, sigh. It has been a long time since my last post.
In the intervening weeks I’ve been back and forth between Park City and southern Nevada perhaps a half-a-dozen times. The streets in front of both places have been under construction related to civic projects for most of that time.
We did catch the Ed Sheeran show at Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas offered as a replacement for the show that had to be cancelled when it was 104 degrees. This time around everything went without a hitch. Most importantly it wasn’t 104 degrees. Also entrance to the stadium was quick and easy. The show was well done. Ed Sheeran’s apparatus worked perfectly. He referred to it as a giant lazy Susan, and that it was. It also included numerous large screens out and about, many resembled enormous lollipops, sort of, and various stairs and lifts and so forth to elevate performers onto the stage. This apparatus has some import in the chain of events because something having gone wrong with it was the reason behind the earlier cancellation.
The surprise performer was Brandon Flowers the front man for the Killers. He emerged from somewhere beneath the giant lazy Susan and performed a couple of songs with Sheeran. This was a gracious gesture intended as a bit of compensation for the earlier cancellation.
They were quite good together. Flowers reminds me of Sinatra in a lot of ways: his look, his being an icon of Las Vegas entertainment, and the fellow that Las Vegas can always rely on to help out.
Sheeran introduced a series of songs as “Songs that even your grandmother would know the lyrics to.” I did recognize several of them but didn’t know the lyrics to any of them. I am, of course, not a grandmother.
It occurred to me later that the old expression that “so-and-so had to have been living under a rock not to have been familiar with so-and-so” is less valid than it used to be. This I think has something to do with the way music is delivered to us. Back in the day of radio, certain performers were inescapable. Nowadays when our introduction to a performer is via Spotify, Pandora or our unique and particular social media silo, it is entirely possible to miss out on the next big thing. For that reason my exposure to Sheeran, Swift, Bieber et al has been extremely limited. For better or worse, so be it.
In Vegas I also happened upon another murder scene. This was in the area between the Stratosphere and the Arts District. The way this works is first you see a lot of police and / or police tape. Then you watch the evening local news or read the next days newspaper. In this case it involved three acquaintances, two of whom killed the third. The local news are extremely adept at two things: community boosterism and crime reporting. Somewhat in opposition to one another.
Additionally I had the unique experience of driving on the Formula One Grand Prix track (aka Las Vegas Boulevard) past an enormous moon-like presence with a swirling psychedelic quasi-amorphous pattern of blue, green, and yellow stripes (aka the Sphere).
The big differences between Las Vegas Boulevard as an F1 race track and under normal conditions are a darker tackier asphalt, minimalist road markings (just faded lines of dots), and empty bleachers. It was kind of cool. The Sphere is, in and of itself, just very cool.
Also in Vegas, at the airport, a young mother so furious with an airline and in an intense fit of screaming appeared to be about to throw her infant to the ground. All of the other young mothers within sight of her instantly handed their infants to their husbands and went to try to calm her down.
Back in the days of Bernanke I believed very much in the concept of economic moral hazard offered as an argument against his actions. This was the idea that removing consequence from economic action would result in a condition where no one paid any attention to the potential consequences of economic actions going forward. I’ve grown to think it is more serious than that and extends well beyond the economic sphere. That appears to be our new paradigm.
Meanwhile, in Chicago, the Cubs did a fairly predictable thing. They suddenly took off in the middle of the Summer after what had been a mundane Spring. Everyone was overworked in an attempt to keep the dream alive by avoiding dealing players that would soon be free agents. As the Summer breezes which play a part in the Summer winning streaks dissipated, the team became overwhelmed and faded with a touch of drama just before the playoff teams were decided. This took a very similar course to 1969, the season that ruined so many of our childhoods.
While in Chicago earlier this Summer, back at the apex of the good stretch, I stopped in one of the Wrigleyville shops and picked up a Don Kessinger jersey. He was the Cubs shortstop for a big chunk of the 60’s and into the 70’s. He was abused in the press for having a higher rate of errors. Something generally unforgivable in a shortstop. But that was entirely unfair. They didn’t understand. He was very tall with a large wingspan. So he could reach balls in play that other shortstops couldn’t hope to reach. This also increased his error rate because he was out there operating beyond the margins of his peers.
He was my favorite player in any sport for all of my youth. Or until Walter Payton anyway.
The fellow who made the shirt for me, an obvious hard-core Cubs fan, had never heard of him. This was shocking, befuddling. I’m attributing it to age. The Cubs in the 60’s and early 70’s were about moving guys around the bases any which way. In that era they really were a very good team. Just not quite good enough to advance to the playoffs. Back in the day, with just two divisions and no wildcard teams, it was far more difficult for a team to advance. The Braves or the Cardinals tended to get in the way. After that, perhaps influenced by the steroid era, the Cubs became arguably a worse team that relied on sluggers to fill the seats.
So folks that grew up with the Cubs of the 60’s and 70’s are more familiar with the many diverse requisites of the game. While those who came along after tend to think of more sluggers as an answer to all of the problems. And tend to focus on sluggers as the true heroes of the game.
The high drama continued into the off-season when the front office replaced, as manager, a world series star with the manager of one of their chief rivals. OMG. It still resonates around the Internet. A true shocker.
In retrospect the Cubs should have traded Bellinger and Stroman for further depth on the farm. But hindsight is 20 / 20. They did almost make it. One game shy. I look forward to the next five or so seasons. I still have the faith in Madrigal. Sometimes I think I am the only one, because, alas, he is not a slugger and never will be.
I’ve been out and about a little with a bunch of new photos appearing toward the end of the nevada usa and park city utah usa galleries in my photo galleries. I’ve also decided to back off some of my earlier plans for now because they were made during pandemic times for pandemic conditions, and now is clearly a moment to get out and about and discover new things. I’ll get back to the others later when things slow down again.
I heard Elon Musk interviewed at length on CNBC yesterday afternoon. He went into how his mind works, his philosophies, and his challenges. For what it is worth, I think I like him much better now. I don’t agree with him on everything, but I relate to him in a way that I hadn’t before. I appreciate his audacity. And I too read much Nietzsche and Schopenhauer before I was ready for it.
And now a little philosophy of my own.
And I was contrary to ordinary
Jerry Jeff Walker, Billy Jim Baker
Even as a child
Fast freights made me wonder
The full moon still drives me wild
And stories do come true
You just got to live your life in episodes
With one eye on a good lady
And one eye still on that open road
So go the lyrics of the late Jerry Jeff Walker’s signature tune (written by Billy Jim Baker). On the one hand a hokey country song dating back to that whole Lukenbach Texas era that so many of us who were alive in the late 70’s remember with some fondness. On the other, it encapsulates an entire, albeit somewhat crude, philosophy. One that works for me. In particular the concept of episodes.
Add to it this:
The world we see that seems so insane is the result of a belief system that is not working. To perceive the world differently, we must be willing to change our belief system, let the past slip away, expand our sense of now, and dissolve the fear in our minds.
William James
And this:
Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.
David Bowie
And maybe a little of this:
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.
Anais Nin
Remembering that those who reach further out are often inclined to make more numerous errors.