THOUGHTFUL THURSDAYS

I have been getting a lot more views on my blog than I ever dreamed I'd get! 

Yesterday I had over 100 views on my blog , and 20 views on my Music Fun Page! 

That is wonderful! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 

I have been sad over the passing of Richie Havens, and obsessing over him (my favorite singer) too much, but I just have one more thing to add.

The next thing you'll be reading is the ending to my book that I wrote a few years ago.

The title is Hitchin,' God's Way Of Letting You know You Don't Have A Car.

I had forgotten that it included Richie Havens as an angel, I thought it would be fitting to share this with you now:

I had never really thought about it much until I started hitchin’. It just slipped my Mom, I guess. No one ever said anything to me about it. 

(Of course, these were “hippy” times and everyone was “trippin”; whatever that means.) If someone had “axed” me about it, I would have replied, “I don’t know.” It just didn’t seem important at the time.

However, after millions of miles of hitchin’ across deserts, over mountains and rivers, through the woods, rain, snow, sleet, dust storms, hail storms, Gale Storm; dealing with psychopathic drivers, bumble bees, little sharp tiny rocks pelting my sensitive wittle body, hunger, thirst, humiliation……………Oh, I could go on and on! 

I have? Uh, sorry ‘bout that.

Where was I? Now I merember. After all of that intense suffering, heartache and pain, I finally realized that God was trying to tell me something.

“What“, you ask in anxious anticipation. ( Try saying “anxious anticipation” three times fast.)

Now remember, I’m still sitting on a rock in Colorado. No! I don’t mean I’m sitting on a rock in Colorado at this moment! Heck no! Go to the end of chapter 6 if you’ve completely forgotton that part. We can wait……………………………….......................

It’s about time you got back! Chihuahua, you’re slower than one of those big butted people in the checkout line at Walmart! 

I apologize to all of you readers with big butts, but I’m not talking about you guys. I’m talking about those folks with MASSIVE  butts! Butts so big they need their own zip code! Butts that look like two Volkswagons trying to pass each other! Butts soooo enormous ……………………….Tell me to shut up. Thank you, I needed that.

O.K. I’m sitting on this stupid rock and I “imagine” an angel standing in front of me. This was not your ordinary, average, run of the mill, angel. Oh, no! This angel looked exactly like Richie Havens, but was about 60 feet tall. 

The Angel spoke. 

Angel……”What’s hapnin’, Danny?”

Me……”Not much.”

Angel….”How’s the blisters on your feet?”

Me….“Oh, they’re O.K………..“Hey! How did you know…….Oh, yeah, right; Angel.”

Angel…..“God has a message for you, man.”

Me……“For me? Wow! Great; what is it?”

Angel…. “Don’t you know what it is already, dude?”

Me…. “No! This isn’t gonna be some kind of riddle or something, is it?”

Angel…..“Nooo, nooo, man, nothing like that.”

Me…. “Then what’s the message, Richie, or Gabriel or whatever your name is?”

Angel…. It’s Norman. Anyway, here is God’s message.

( This is cool because now it gets dark, rolling black clouds appear, and there is thunder and lightening flashing through the pitch blackness, like in The Ten Commandments!) 

“DANNY! DANNY BRUCE MANESS! THIS IS WHAT GOD HAS SPOKETH UNTO YOU!” “HITCHIN’ WAS MY WAY OF LETTING YOU KNOW YOU DON”T HAVE A CAR!”

Me…..Say what?

Angel……“I REPEAT; HITCHIN’ WAS MY……

Me……“RIIIIGHT!  I heard you the first time. So you’re telling me the reason I’ve been going through all this hitchin’ hogwash is because God was letting me know I didn’t have a cockadoody car?”

Angel….. “That’s right, bro.”

Me….. “Wouldn’t it have been easier for him to just email me?”

Angel…..“We don’t have emails yet, son. This is the early 70’s.”

Me…… “Well, then he could have created emails and sent me one! It would have been better than putting me through all the suffering, pain and heartache of hitchin’ my butt off!”

Angel….”Let me ask you this, ungrateful one; did you KNOW  you didn’t have a car before you started hitchin’?”

Me…..“Well, no. I never really thought about it but…………….

Angel…..“AAAHHH!  AAAHHH!”  “Would you have done all the cool things you, uh, done  if it hadn’t been for hitchin’; like seeing Tony Dow?”

Me….”You’ve got me there, Norman.” “ I have to admit I’ve seen wonderous and magnificent things along the highways and byways of the good ole U.S. of A. In fact, just yesterday………

Angel….. “Enough already! I can see that you get the point.” “I’m outta here.” (Cue music: Richie Havens singing the classic song, “Follow”), “And don’t mind me ‘cause I ain’t nothing’ but a dream; and you can follow, folloooowoooo, followoooo-oo-ooo.)

YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO THIS NOW! REALLY!

Norman begins to rise in the air and floats, floats, floats, higher and higher and POP, he’s gone!

Now, I knew why everybody said I was so dumb. I should have known I didn’t have a car. Even after hitchin’ a billion miles across the western section of America, I was too stupid to figure it out on my own. God had to send an Angel, for heaven’s sake

 (Hey! That wasn’t bad! An Angel for heaven’s  sake), to tell me!

Anyway, I finally  understood the indisputable fact that I didn’t have a car. 

Funny thing about it; I didn’t care. Like Norman said, I would have never had the strange unique experiences, met such weird, exciting and lovable people, AND (here is the most important thing), been able to write this book, if I had, had a car.

That is sooo true! I would have been cooped up in my little Rambler or some dumb car like that, by myself, missing out on everything interesting, cool, Glirkazoid related, angelic, and, well, just EVERYTHING  that has made me the diverse, whacked out critter I am today!

In conclusion, if somebody, ANYBODY, who reads this book knows Richie Havens OR  Joni Mitchell, give him/her my email address. You can find it in the book somewhere.

Wait a minute! What if Joni and Richie are reading the book TOGETHER at this very moment! Wow! OH, WOW!!!!  

No, that’s stupid for me to ever believe my favorite singers of all time, who never fail to put me THERE, would read my idiotic book. Also, Joni Mitchell is the greatest songwriter of all time (Excluding Lennon, Dylan, and Manilow); it’s absolutely CRAZY for me to even dream in my wildest dreams she would like my dumb book, ‘cause I’m nothing but a “silly-boy” writer compared to her writing.

 (Pssst, gang, listen up. See what I’m trying to do? I’m hoping Richie and Joni hear about my love for them in some way (Maybe through the “grapevine”) and show pity on me and throw a big party in my honor where they both perform their awesome, AWESOME, AWESOME  music!!!!!! 

I just got a chill up my leg! What if other celebrities hear about the party and the guest list includes Halle Berry, Steve Martin, Chuck Norris (See what I’m doing now? I’m fantasizing about all these other celebrities coming to the party I’m fantasizing about), Greg Batton, The Aposematics, Robin Williams, Yvonne Greer, Michael Buble, Michael Lynche, Adam Lambert, Crystal Bowersox (She‘s wonderful) , Cameron Diaz, Ben Stein, Martha Stew…….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Out Of This World Wednesdays

Last week I changed Who, what, where, when, why, how Wednesdays to something more dear to my heart...

Things out of this world, world, world, world, world!!!

Here is the fascinating continuation of..

THE GLIRKAZOIDS

I cannot destroy Glirka ( Um, I mean, let Oglama destroy Glirka) without giving you a brief, mesmerizing, mind altering, virtual tour of the baby blue planet.

You are beamed down to a hill of flowers that have grown “incredibly high!"

( Now, remember children; Glirka has already blown up a long time ago, so this is one of those going back in time things that we always see in the movies.)

The unending variety of gorgeous flowers are so breathtaking it causes you to puke your guts out, which is the normal reaction to the flowers on Glirka. ( It’s O.K. Everybody does it.)

Feeling better now, you look out to the horizon.

It is a surreal, dreamlike scene that resembles a newly discovered “Van Gogh” masterpiece... only bigger!

The mixed pink, purple and yellow mountains of Glirka are shaped like “Devo" hats. (Remember; upside down flower pots?)

(Warning! Venturing too close to these unique mountains can cause ZITS due to the natural chemicals they emit!)

ANCIENT GLIRKAZOID POEM

Our mountains look like “Devo” hats,

Or maybe Mayan temples, 

But never get too close to them,

‘cause they will give you pimples!

As you raise your astonished eyes to the heavens, you are awestruck by the “fire engine red” clouds that form shapes of Macy’s Day Parade balloons, floating against a “Kermit green” sky.

(O.K. Now, let me remind you kids once again. Glirka is bye-bye. These once beauteous vista’s are just burned up pieces of space dust at the present time. Thank you.)

Walking in the ever present swirling blue mist  makes every step feel as if you are sleepwalking in a , uh, lets see, BLUE MIST.

The sun that gently warms the inhabitants of Glirka, looks exactly like the sun on the “Raisin Bran box,    with the face, scoop and everything!

All the lovely trees of Glirka, look like Christmas trees.

They grow that way.

Even the bubble lights grow naturally, like vines, and climb up, up, ‘round and ‘round to the top of the trees for sparkling illumination! How cool is that?!

The rivers that twist and  turn across the Glirkazoidian landscape are flowing with, life giving, “glirf.”

“Glirf” is the purple liquid that meanders down the river beds, fills the lakes and seas, and tastes like (you guessed it) grape Nehi.

The vast array of wildlife on this diverse and really, really cool planet is almost too incomprehensible for our little brains to, uh,…….COMPREHEND. 

( Lest we forget, all of this wildlife was turned into “crispy critters” when the planet exploded in an awesome display of destructive and cataclysmic beauty!)

Here is a short list of Glirkan animals and “creepy crawlers” that lurked, flew, swam, slithered and generally hung out on Glirka long, long ago.

Glions and gligers and glares, oh my!

Glizards...Glonkeys…

Well, maybe this ancient and traditional poem will explain everything in a way that even I can understand.

( I’ll try and keep up.)

Ancient, Traditional Poem

The glions look like koala bears,

The gluppies look like sharks,

The glelephants are baby birds,

The gli-cats; dogs that bark.

The glrats resemble horses,

Gliraffs are tiny snails,

A Glirkan glippopotomus, 

Looks like a flying squirrel

The glady bugs are camels,

The glokadiles are trout,

Hey, Glirka is a crazy world, 

That soon will be “snuffed out.”

( How prophetic)

Here’s a Glirkazoidian “ditty” that was a favorite among the super intelligent infants of the now incinerated planet:

( Sung to the tune of, “The Big Rock Candy Mountain.”)

Oh, the buzzin’ of the glees,

And the glycamore trees,

The sweet “glirf” soda fountains,

The glemonade springs where the glu bird sings,

In the Glirkazoidan mountains.

In the Glirkazoidan mountains,

All the gyails  are made of tin,

And you can beam right out again,

As soon as you get in.

In the Glirkazoidan mountains,

All the “gleebops” have no legs,

And you never see that “ALIEN” beast,

Popping out those creepy eggs.

Oh, I want to glow, 

From electric snow,

Watch the rivers flow,

Where the “glirf” runs slow, 

And you don’t need “dough”,

In the Glirkazoidan mountains.

(Now, wasn’t that precious?)

The cities of Glirka were a sight to behold! 

Have you ever been to San Francisco?

Well, Glirkan cities didn’t look like San Francicco.

How about, New York city?

No. They didn’t look like New York, either.

Wait!  I’ve got it!

Have you ever been to Phoenix? 

O.K. Good!

Did you see those FANTASTIC  homes that were built in to the sides of the mountains?

Great!

That’s it.

That’s what the cities of Glirka looked like.

( Confidentually, the mountain homes of Phoenix were designed by ex-patriated Glirkazoids.)

We are running out of tom, so lets get back to the total obliteration of Glirka. 

(TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY)

Richie Havens

Richie Havens, my favorite singer, entertainer, and guitar player passed away Monday, April 22, 2013, at age 72.

My sister reminded me today of how I would do my best to imitate him. I even learned E Tuning, trying to duplicate the unique sound coming from his Guild guitar. 

However, how could I EVER duplicate the rich, deep, penetrating to my soul, voice that carried all of his fans to a higher level of peace and love.

I know, I know, that REALLY sounds clichéd, but it's absolutely true.

I cannot think of any musical instrument that can give me the soothing,  calming feeling his voice gave me.

Some described it as a "gravel voice." 

Louie Armstrong had a "gravel voice."

Richie's voice had the texture of...

Some of you may remember the feeling of running your fingers over your corduroy pants or jacket, and how it didn't feel rough, exactly, but the texture made you feel warm and cozy.

That's what Richie's voice was like to me when he sang his heartfelt mellow songs.

On the other hand, when he sang "Freedom," "High Flying Bird," or "Handsome Johnny," his voice was like a primordial scream that came from a place deep down in his soul that I would have never had the courage to go to on my own.

I saw him live in concert 3 times, and I can describe his performances as pure energy, thoughtful, exquisite, and transcending. (Passing beyond the normal limits of emotion)

When he was performing, and off stage, racial prejudices disappeared, due to the abundance of love he showed for everyone, and the way he conveyed that love through his music.

What a glorious time in Heaven as he sings again there,  just like he did at Woodstock, with that strong, powerful, glorious voice that could shake the rafters or gently soothe a baby to sleep.

All of your fans love you, Richie Havens, and will miss you...but will never forget you, man! Never!

♪♫MADNESS MUSIC MONDAYS♫♪

I call this weekly feature, Madness Music Mondays, because my last name is Maness, which sounds a lot like madness, and I am considered kind of "mad" (CrAZy) in certain circles...well...in ALL circles...and squares...and rectangles!

Now, think of the scariest music you can remember.
(Not “Casper” music). Slow, eerie, spine chilling music.
(“Exorcist” music is too scary). What I’m trying to explain is
almost as scary as the “Exorcist” music.

Picture a dark, windy night where the barren trees move
to and fro like wandering lost souls, and the dead leaves blow
like demons moving closer for the attack.

Imagine yourself walking slowly down Dixie Drive
(crunching the gravel) to the end of the street. Not a dead
end. I wish it had been a dead end. If it had been a dead end
I would never have had to walk past the place, but it was the
last house on the street; but not a dead end. I’ll draw a
picture later and you’ll understand.

Then you see it. (Really, really loud, really scary music
like, da dummmmmmmmmm!) The “Witch’s House”. A
“Witch’s House” on my own street.

Every house on the street was the normal, ranch-style
house, but the “witch” couldn’t have an ordinary house. Oh,
no! Her house looked exactly like the “Psycho House”.
(“Psycho” music). The house was terrifying; and right on my
way to school, and on my way to Burger Bar, the bowling
alley (we never bowled, we just hung out), Ben Franklin and
all the essential places.

This part is important. You are slowly walking up the
“witch’s” driveway at one minute ‘til midnight. You see a dim
light from the upstairs window, and the silhouette of a
grotesque old woman in a rocking chair. Shaking visibly, you
are startled by the sound of the old church bell striking.
One…two. You feel the sweat (we hope it’s sweat) running
down your legs. Three…four…five. You get a cold chill when
you look up and the old woman is missing from the window.
Six…seven…eight…nine. All of a sudden, the wind picks up and
feels like ice against your skin. Ten…eleven. Something draws
your eyes to the chimney at the very highest point of the
house. TWELVE! You hear an indescribable shriek and see a
sight that will dwarf any nightmare you could ever imagine.
The “witch”. The hideous witch in a ball of green fire, flying
from the chimney and laughing a bone-chilling laugh. You pray
she doesn’t see you, but your eyes meet her white-hot, fiery
eyes.

She is not riding on a broom, or a headless horse. No,
something much more terrible. She is on a horrible, gigantic
white goose, with red eyes. She keeps repeating over and
over, between shrieks and stuff, “your goose is cooked, your
goose is cooked!”

Now, I never experienced this myself, but all the kids
said this is what happened every night at midnight. I tend to
believe it because the evidence was all there. She did have
big geese in her yard. We all thought they were really
children she had changed into geese. The old woman had to
be at least 200 years old. (Her shoes gave it away, you know,
those black high-tops with the buttons.) And here’s what
really gave it away. She had no car!

They say, she would eat a goose every Friday which
meant she needed more children to change into water fowl.
So, all the kids would run, screaming, by her house every
Friday. That’s the end to this little spook story. Didn’t it
give you goosebumps?

When you think about it, I guess that’s the only way a
200 year old woman is gonna get a goose.

ST. LOUIS SUNDAYS

Television – The Ultimate Gift to Mankind

My mom held television in such high esteem that we were
not allowed to say T.V. (Another truism). 

Out of respect for this greatest of all inventions we had to utter 
the full, glorious name, Television!

The television was always on in our home. From the
Indian test pattern in the morning to the stars and stripes
at night.

Pictures and sound that gave us educational information
from all over the world. For free!
That's right. It was totally free after the initial cost of
the television. Hallelujah!

Music, entertainment of all sorts that included,
jugglers, plate spinners, animal acts, the greatest comedians
of all time, (Red Skelton, for instance).

Everything, just everything your little heart desired,
for free!
Yes, we had to watch commercials. But don't we still
have to watch commercials even after paying our cable, and/
or, satellite dish fee?
Anyway it didn't matter to me because I loved the
commercials as much, and sometimes more than the shows.
Especially the cigarette commercials.
The truth is, I've never really been a smoker, but
I loved the cigarette advertisements..

My favorite was the Marlboro ads with the powerful
music (theme from the Magnificent 7), the rugged "big"
country, "big" sky, leather skinned cowboys ( pre-Brokeback
Mountain), on beautiful horseflesh. (These commercials were
10,000 times better than the Shamwow ads.)

In contrast, were the refreshing, delightful Salem
commercials with waterfalls, plants and flowers, and
everything fresh, new and green. (Take a puff, it’s
springtime), Yeah right.

The Kool cigarette ads were cool. Cute, expertly
animated, penguins that were sure to appeal to the kids.

The combo of television light flickering through the
fog-like Pall Mall smoke coming from mom and dad's cigarettes, made a surreal scene from an artificial “Twilight Zone”that was repeatedly created in our living room every Friday night.

The aroma of "toasted Cheerios" ( a homemade snack
invented by the poor), mixed in with cigarette smoke,
perfume, roach spray, the parmesan cheese smell of dad's
feet (it still lingers in my nostrils to this day), the toxic
outside air seeping in from the Monsanto plant, meat packing
company, and car/semi-truck fumes...made life almost
paradisaic.

The sound of the heavy black oscillating fan moving to
and fro with minimal cooling effect. The “Winston tastes good
like a cigarette should” jingle, coming from the Sylvania with
that grainy black and white picture that had to be adjusted
every five minutes. The horizontal, the vertical, the rabbit
ears... something had to be tweeked constantly.

However, when all else failed, dad would hammer the top
of the television with the side of his fist. That worked 98%
of the time. (If any of us kids would have done that our
butts would have been blistered. (But not really blist---you
know what I mean).

Now, I hope I haven’t given you a false impression. Our
living room was not silent except for the television and fan.
Far from it!
My family talked loud and non-stop.
They commented on the shows, the commercials, talked
about their jobs, sports and such.
With all of this un-ending, loud talking going on, can you
believe that no one ever got shhhuused. (You know, like a
librarian would do with her finger up to her lips.)

Why not? Because, we all had the un-canny ability to
comprehend everything that was going on all at the same
time. (I personally, have lost that ability).
Dad's baseball facts, the t.v. show, Dave and Dick's re-creation
of " On The Waterfront", Dee-Dee singing show
tunes, mom banging pots and pans, while she made "shit on
the shingle" (If you don't know what "shit on the shingle" is,
I feel sorry for you). We trapped all of it in our little
memory banks. (Sadly, or maybe not, I have lost that ability, too.)

S.O.S.

Anyway, back to commercials.
The Hertz rental car commercials were a special
effects masterpiece for that time period.
You would hear the jingle and then see an attractive
man or woman float down out of the sky into a sharp looking
convertible. ( What was the jingle.? Oh, come on! Do I have
to do everything for you?)
Very well, ♪♪"Let Hertz put you in the driver’s seat,”♫

I hope you are hackey!

Now, I could talk forever about commercials, Ed
Sullivan, the Honeymooners (one show that still makes me
laugh outloud), Industry on Parade ( don't knock it), I learned
a lot from that show, and all the other wonderful shows of
that time.

However, that's all the time I have today on this AWESOME St. Louis Sunday...April 21, 2013! 

Remember, the family that watches TV together...umm... is pretty nerdy! ! So silly, but so profound!