Aggressive Driving v Defensive Driving

Is there a real difference between the two? In the past my response would have been a knee-jerk and emphatic YES!

Yet, now I'm not too sure. For me, I think I've blurred the line a wee bit.

First and foremost:

I am a SAFE and SANE driver. I don't tailgate, cut-off other drivers, hell, I even signal before I turn. I even to signal to show my intent that I'm changing lanes. I am not "asking" for permission to merge into another lane. I am constantly verifying my surroundings and marginal distances within my two dimensional space on any given road or freeway.

I drive fast. I always have. Whereas Sammy Haggar once screamed in song- "I can't drive 55", I can't merely hang at 65. The GR1FF3N can handle a comfortable cruise of 70. Sometimes when I'm not paying close attention to my velocity, GR1FF3N may fly along as fast as an occasional 80mph, but like I said that's only occasional.

I sing in the car. I yell in the car. I yell at my fellow drivers from my car.
I can't honk the GR1FF3Ns horn because it doesn't honk anymore so I flash my highs. I'm aggressive when I need to be to get around the folks with the cellphones plastered to the side of their heads. They're the ones that just can't drive the speed limit AND gab on the phone at the same time. They're the ones that are the main cause for the "slow-downs" on the freeways. Sometimes they're driving so damn s-l-o-w. That I want to get out of my car and bitch-slap them.

Road Rage Is justifiable

Some kid (defined as a person half my age and younger) cut me off on HWY 101 the other day. It would seem to him that there wasn't anything physically behind the back of his head when he decided that he had to travel from the far left lane adjacent the center divide (aka lane number One) across my path in the number 2 lane and then proceed to the exit lane. Yeah, I've seen this practiced before only not with such wanton disregard for everyone around him. Apparently the kid didn't realize that there was indeed the whole rest of his old-school vintage 60s era Mustang all located immediately behind his head. I like the fact that GR1FF3N is equipped with ABS braking or else there would've been a bit of a tangle between me and that kid, not to mention our intertwined vehicles.

I liken the freeway experience to what George Carlin had surmised a number of years ago during a show. "There ought to be different types of music for each of the traveling lanes on a freeway." The number one lane would have driving music. Beat laden riffs and wild methodic guitars. Music to sink your teeth into as you buzz by the other cars beside you. The musical genres would get real mellow by the time you're in the far right lane. It's called the slow lane for a reason and slow music would be most welcomed there. A real calming effect- "Whew, I survived another roust of the freeway". Time to mellow out for the surface streets and stoplights one is destined to encounter. The slow lane is also a ramp-up to come join the jungle. Find your niche and go with the flow.

But, no.

We all know that ain't gonna happen. There will always be those multi-taskers out there whom think that they're adept at reading maps while driving, applying make-up whilst behind the wheel or displaying erratic driving velocities when gabbing on a cellphone.

All I want is a particle cannon.

I once gave serious thought to the mechanics required to mount a laser guided paint-ball rifle onto the GR1FF3N. Some ass that is driving stupid, ought to have the world know that they're a jerked driver by the simple display of puke green paint ball remnants on they're rear window.

But, now, I'm in road-rage-justification-mode. I say just ELIMINATE them. Get them out of the gene pool, altogether. That'll teach 'em.

L.A. drivers are often maligned with they're perceived driving habits.
"OMG, there was a 15 car pile-up on the 405. They drive crazy down there!" Uh, hold on, wait a sec. It is true that South Cali drivers are all flying on the freeway doing 75, driving mere inches from the car in front of them. But they drive as a UNIT. As if Southlanders have a secret driving choreography- only known amongest themselves. Ottah and I traveled through rush hour in L.A. changed from the Ventura Freeway to the Hollywood Freeway and back onto good ol' HWY 101. Ottah was my navigator- I was the pilot. It was fun! It was amazing! It was actually enjoyable. If someone had to change lanes, on went their signal and they were able to merge into the intended lane. No one missed a beat. It was a smooth as silk transition. So unlike us Nortenos, we could learn a thing or two from the Southlanders- maybe we could do lunch and discuss it.

So Sayeth Das Behr

Married, Scarred or Too Gay

You've seen them around. You see them EVERYWHERE. To put a queer twist on an old observation: the good men are either married or TOO GAY. Recently, I attended a birthday party for a friend. Great food, great drink, great smoke, great blend of people of both genders. There were a few cute guys that I had met at the party and some that I've known for years. Of the guys that I had met for the first time at that party, a couple of them were indeed couples, albeit incognito. They didn't hang out together, they didn't sleep together (yeah, it was an impromptu all night party- I was there for 26 hours), for intents and purposes the foursome were seemingly unattached. Until conversation had swayed into the area of being single versus being coupled. It was then that it dawned on me that I was, for the most part, amidst men whom were "off-the-market". I generally don't go to parties to pick-up on guys. It's just not my style. Although, I do network amongst my small number of close friends. It would seem that if Mr. Thang is partnered then he'd more than likely has or at least knows of some guys whom are single and emotionally available. That's the key. I've met guys that have been of the walking wet dream variety. Guys that although, they look all manly and possess masculine traits, aren't properly equipped to relate to other men on an emotional level. I have a masculine demeanor. I don't speak with a lilt, I don't walk with swish of the hips, I don't have limpy wrists. I'm not afraid of getting myself dirty- I'm talking filth that usually requires solvents to remove the grime. I like to work on mechanical things, car engines and the like. You know, "guy stuff". And I'm attracted to guys like myself. Guys whom are guys. It's been my experience that there are those guys whom, I'm attracted to, are either partnered/married or emotionally crippled or marred for life. You've encountered them- The guys that have had a couple or a string of rocky relationships that ended badly and unfortunately the guy(s) didn't learn from those experiences and therefore are now marred and scarred for life or a good chunk of it anyway. The adage of twice bitten thrice shy pretty much sums it up. It's a shame and a tragedy. Then there are the "too gay" crowd. The "Heeeeey Grrrl" kinda of guys. The "no-she-did-int" clique. Where all pronouns are feminine despite the fact that the person is genetically male. I call them "Swishy Fags". Some call them "Queenie". Which is not to be confused with the "Uppity Queers" which is a whole other topic for a later blog. I know many guys whom are like that, some are friends, some are close acquaintance's. But, would I knowingly become partnered with a guy like that? Let me just say that I wouldn't actively manhunt for a swishy fag as a potential partner. I realistically can't rule-out anyone, because stranger things have been known to happen. Lastly, to all the emotionally scarred guys out there, try to learn from the mis-steps of the past and take the emotional risk to seek another guy, because we're not all bad, mean and manipulative- Many of us are just drawn this way.

So Sayeth Das Behr

Gigi was just SO pretty

She just may've found her true calling. Gigi was in full swing the other night. Copper coloured hair and falsies, sparkly eyelashes and ivory white skin. WOW, what a knock-out or perhaps she was knocked out!

It was the first twenty-four hour party of this millenium that I attended. What started out as the Pajama Soiree- by the next dawning of light it was the underwear party and that party continued all throughout the next day. I tell you, I feel like I lost a day somewhere. Has anybody seen the 17th of September? For me, there's a bit of a blur right where that day ought to be...

More on the Soiree is on the way. Just as soon as I piece it back together.

So Sayeth Das Behr

American Red Cross Seeks Blood Donors

It will never cease to amaze me, the U.S. Red Cross needs blood donors. Well, sometimes it's obvious. If there was an inexpensive way to manufacture plasma from scratch, without natural hemoglobin, I'm pretty sure that there would no longer be shortages of blood. The thing that gets me is the discrimination that the FDA/U.S. Red Cross maintains. The blood supply in the United States is screened for all sorts of blood-borne infections and viruses. Yeah, including HIV. Yet, if you are a man willing and physically able to donate blood and you just happen to be sexually active with other men, regardless of your sero-status, you are banned from donating your blood.

I think that the FDA (the government body that oversees the U.S. Red Cross) ought to get over themselves as the morality police and get with the freaking program. I know of many, including myself, who'd donate blood in a heartbeat (no pun, intended) if we were not banned from doing so. Some of my friends have stated to me that I ought to lie about my homosexuality, so I can donate blood.

My response to those statements was and remains a flat "NO". When I came out, it put an end to the lies I told and it put an end to the constant attempts to hide myself amongst the general population. To renounce, even temporarily, my homosexuality would undo the trials and tribulations that I have endured and enjoyed about myself for the last twenty-three (23) years.

Besides, if the FDA refuses to lift the ban, then the Red Cross must not really be all that desperate for blood products.

So Sayeth Das Behr

Aviation

Ricardo and I were sitting on a tug parked at gate G93. It was 11h15 in the morning and we were waiting patiently for the arrival of Singapore Airlines, to get her first class cans, bag drop them, go to the 'boneyard' and push-off the cans just to get the dollies. Then it was back to the "A" side. ASAP.
I felt strange. It was like a cold clammy tingling sensation. I felt nauseous and sad, then it dawned on me.

"Ricardo?" I sort of yell to the man sitting to my left. It's always noisy on the ramp, sometimes I think we ought to be taught ASL when sitting in close proximity to one another.
"Ricardo? Don't you think it's weird for us to be sitting here on this side of the airport at this hour, at this gate, on this day?" I inquire of my associate.
"Weird? It what way?" Ricardo replied. Apparently clue-less.
"Dude, it's 11 September. It's the third anniversary of the Day of Tragedy."
"Yeah, so? Why is it so weird?" He asks cluelessly.
"Ricardo, UA93 was enroute from NWR to SFO before it was hijacked. This is the United side of the airport. UA93 was scheduled to arrive at this airport three years ago today, at this time of day. UA93, G93. Get it?"

"Yeah, I get it and you're right- it is weird."

I love aviation. In high school instead of taking Art for an elective, I took an elective class called "Aviation Today". The class was taught by a history teacher by the name of Mister Gay. In that class, I learned about the different components of aircraft. From the wings to the fuselage to the elevators to the ailerons. I learned how lift was created by convexing the top of the wing, thus causing the air to have a lower pressure rushing above the wing's leading edge than beneath. I learned the difference between pitch and yaw and what the hell a yoke was. No, not the kind inside eggs. Fascinating, as Mr. Spock would say- Aviation fascinated me.

I flew everywhere when I was able to travel on my own. I flew from Boston's Logan Airport to Norfolk Virginia for a weekend in 1986. I flew roundtrip to/from Boston and San Jose also in 1986. I and some friends stood on the roof of our apartment complex to watch the Blue Angels perform their airshow at Moffett Field. F-14's flying tree top level in Sunnyvale. After-burners running full. I loved the feeling I felt throughout my body as the jets flew overhead. I had made four roundtrips transversing the country to visit my folks and returned home. Air travel is safer than a pedestrian crossing the street in San Francisco.

I received a call on my cellphone from my friend Rudy. He instructs me to turn on the TV. I ask what channel and he says it doesn't matter because it's on all the channels. "Dude" I say, I'm at the ten-ten, can't this wait? Rudy said no, it couldn't wait. So I grabbed a towel and walked from my room to the media room, sat down and watched the horror unfold in front of my eyes. The WTC south tower just collapsed.

Yet, for me, the terrorists succeeded. The horrific tragedies of that day really, fucked. Me. Up. It was eerie when none of the planes were flying that week. The only planes allowed to fly were the military aircraft on patrol around the Bay Area.
When the planes returned to flight, the skies didn't seem so friendly after all. Worse still- I had now developed a fear of flying.

There were two reasons why I decided to work at SFO. One being money- the great motivator that it is. The other was to help me get over my new fear. For the first three weeks I was petrified to go out on the ramp. Although, I had passed all of the background checks (FBI, MI5, Interpol). I had earned the 24/7 clearance required to become an authorized person in the restricted areas of the AOA (Airport Operations Area). Yet for me to be there in the same place as the aircraft? Nope. I wasn't ready for that just yet. My friend Ron understood my plight and didn't push me. I would get the confidence soon enough on my terms. In time, I got myself reacquainted with my love for aviation. I enjoyed being out on the ramp at the far end of the runway (28R) sitting on my tug parked on the side of the road and just watch the 747-400s achieve lift. Within seconds the plane is screaming over my head. I would get this sense of enormous energy permeating the very essence my being manifesting itself with a tingling sensation that made my nipples hard. Another was scrambling atop a tug conforming my upper body against Tubular Belle's smooth cold fuselage. My outstretched arms with fingers splayed trying to cling to the curved surface as I worked the panel switches to open the cargo door and retrieve the first class cans. Knowing full well that I am the first person to touch the body of a magnificent bird that was airborne a scant fifteen minutes prior.

Squirt guns don't squirt people, kids do.

Despite all the onboard computer systems on the flight deck. Airplanes do not fly themselves into buildings, people do. People kill one another for socio-political reasons. People kill each other for sport. And aircraft are merely tools.
Large sophisticated tools. Large sophisticated fragile tools for travel.
A plane arrives at a gate with passengers. Whom de-plane, get their bags and leave. Meanwhile most aircraft are "turn-arounds". Arriving as VS19 and departing four hours later as VS20. All cleaned up and fresh smelling. A new crew and refueled and on they go.

I boarded an airliner once again in June 2005, for my first trans-atlantic flight. SFO to LHR via Virgin Atlantic Airways. By October the same year, I flew domestic on Jet Blue. Oak to IAD, it had been awhile since I spent time with the Ottah.

Thousands died that day...

Hundreds of thousands were affected that day...

And, it's been only five years.

It seems like forever...

It feels like yesterday...

Camping

Das Behr loves camping. Real camping. As opposed to "gay" camping. The idea of pitching a tent and sleeping in a bag is the appeal. Gay camping is the tent experience but just too many creature comforts for my taste. For some, camping without an air mattress- would scrub the whole thing. When camping, I prefer sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag within a tent (I'd rather camp with another and zip the two sleeping bags together, but that's another blog post). Roughing it. It's an escape and it's always an adventure. I don't think that I would've felt the last big temblor that struck under Napa, the same way if I was asleep atop a cushy temblor-isolating air mattress. Like many whom went camping with their families when they were growing up, I didn't get that opportunity. So, I guess I'm making up for lost time by adopting this form of recreation. During the last 19.75 years, I've been camping four times and each camp-out was special.

Life @ Fife's
Eighteen dollars and a temporary surrendering of your CID/CDL will get you one canoe, two paddles and as many life vests as needed, when you lease said canoe at Johnson's Beach. Huh? Why rent a canoe at a beach? This beach isn't on the ocean, it's on the Russian River located in Guerneville, California. Johnson's Beach is the place to go on the 3rd of July for the Guerneville Town Independence Day Fireworks Display. And it's the place to go to rent a canoe.

I'd never canoed before that time in July. I thought how difficult would it be? Oh, man! It's a great work out for the upper body. Ottah and I paddled upstream, which is NO easy task! Yet, Ottah didn't seem to mind too much that our trek was traversed in zig-zags. We brought along a cooler full of 'pic-a-nic' goodies and low-slung beach chairs. We found a small island just after the first bend opposite the Korbel vineyards and hung out for a couple of hours. Then it was back onto the river for the just as difficult downstream voyage.

Another camping trip was with the "Renegades North" gang. Three days of alcohol induced mayhem. Das Behr was sportin' a completely shaven dome on that trip. I don't recall all the details. For some reason there was multiple trips to Safeway and "hiking" in the woods, it was a great time hanging with friends. Ottah and I checked out Armstrong Woods.
Man, was it quiet! Peacefully surreal. Highly recommended for ALL tree-huggers. You know who you are!

Oxnard.
A central coast city. Ottah and I camped overnight in Oxnard during our trek down to San Diego one summer. We had arrived at night. Pitched our tent by the light of the Santa Fe's headlamps. It was kinda scary. I could hear the ocean. That was a sound that I knew all to well. But I couldn't place the "whirl ka-chunk, whirl ka-chunk" sound. By daylight, I could then see through the fog- Ocean and oil derricks everywhere. Eew!

My most recent camping trip was one for survival rather than recreation. I found myself without a home after I'd recovered from surgery five years ago. Luckily, I had unemployment checks keeping me afloat with food. I had tried the sleeping under a bridge thing- way too cold, no blanket, just me and a leather jacket. I tried the EHC thing, sleeping on a bed mat on the floor with a moth-holed wool blanket. Way to much foot traffic around me at all times during the 'lights out' period. Whilst some were guarding their footware from thieves, I was guarding my telecommunications device.

I was not about to sleep in the elements. It was going to start raining soon when I decided to camp-out. Tom suggested that I check out a place along the Guadalupe River in Santa Clara. He could see the levee each time he made his pass along Tasman near Cisco. I investigated the site. There was enough trees and void of people. My criteria was a place that had low to no foot traffic, enough trees to camoflage my aqua blue tent and at least one sturdy tree to lock my bike to. I packed out whatever I packed in. In addition to my tent, sleeping bag and blankets- I had my battery operated lamp, hand-powered radio, non-perishable food, water, toiletries and determination that I'd get through this 'adventure' relatively un-scathed.

Only in the Silicon Valley would a homeless bear be actually smarter than the average bear! Here I was in my own tent with my own equipment and keeping updated with the world with a FM radio and an internet enabled cellular phone. I lived like that for three months. I spent alot of time reading, hanging out at various light rail stations where I'd plug-in and recharge my phone. Looking for work when I could. If I really need to do a repeat of 'survival camp', no problem. Been there, done that!

Although, the next time I go camping it'll be for recreational purposes- That's a def. With someone? Perhaps rabbit, perhaps.

So sayeth Das Behr

Not one for subtlety

I've noticed that there are two types of people when it comes to the conveyance of information. There are those who can take a subtle hint and go with that. And there are those that require a bit of a up-front and in your face type of communication. I'm proud to say that I am a member of the latter. There's no room for error when an item is presented plainly and to the point. Remember- tact is the art of presentation.

I was recently told that I can leave cryptic emails. I guess emails or letters would be considered cryptic when the parties involved are not on the same page. Confrontation. I abhor confrontation. Yet perhaps at the same time I need feedback. So even though I really hate confrontation- it's a necessity. I need to work on my confrontational skills. I must develop the skill sets to obtain the information that I require without letting my emotions get in the way.

As I may've mentioned in a previous post, I do not like being ignored. The other party wasn't about to give-in. That's what ignoring someone is all about. It seemed like a stalement and it was becoming unhealthy for me. My emotions were in such a twist. I'd be boo hooing and slingin' snot at the drop of a hat.

I.
HATE.
THAT.

I felt like I was going to snap and I knew that it wasn't going to be pretty.

I had to act.

I called him and got the machine. I left a message stating that I wasn't going to show up unannounced. I knocked. No response. So I waited thirty (30) minutes outside his door sitting cross-legged and thinking of what I was going to say to him. I knock again. The door opens, I'm asked in and we talk.

Whew! I'm happy that's over. I now know exactly where I stand. He considered it as rude to be so blatant. I, on the otherhand, welcomed it.

Point blank.

No mis-understandings.

And best of all, we are still friends.

So Sayeth Das Behr

For the Love of Music

A man that I respect once wrote, "I'm not your typical 'g' man, I like to rock out". That statement made me think of all the rock concerts that I've experienced. So, I figured what the hell, I'll list all of the musical artists that I've seen.

I'm amazed, some artists I feel lucky to have seen them because they rarely hit the road here in the States. Some bands I've seen more than once, in those cases I'll define the number of times I've seen them and I will even throw in the venue where I saw them. Where ever possible, the artist/band names will be linked their respective web-sites. Here's the list, in the order that I've seen the concert. If I remember the year I'll list that too...

The Ramones
I saw The Ramones at the Commercial Club in Bridgewater, MA back when I was
eighteen (18). The year was 1980, it was my first summer after graduating from high school. The show was great! I remember that they played outdoors and the weather couldn't have been more perfect.

The B-52's
I've seen the 'B's' twice. However, this was the first time I saw them, that I remember most fondly. It was also the Summer of '80. The show was performed at SMU (Southern Massachusetts University) when the new wave band from Athens, GA were still playing college campuses. The concert itself was held indoors in one of SMUs gymasiums. As I recall, there were alot of people there. The gym space was nearly full. The first song of their first set was also their first release,
"Planet Claire". Fog filled the stage, the music began and three-quarters (3/4) of the
people all rushed to the stage. In turn the void created a large space for dancing. The
dance type of the day was the 'pogo'. My throat was so sore after all the screaming I did during that show.

Billy Idol
I was out here visiting friends in Sunnyvale, the Summer of '86. It was late July and the Shoreline Ampitheatre was brand-spanking new. Complete with the little towers of burning methane up on the lawn. I don't remember much of the show- it had to have been a good time!

David Bowie
I saw Bowie in 1987 when he played Spartan Stadium for his "Glass Spider Tour". I remember seeing all the 'jesus people' carrying signs out in front urging people not to listen the 'evil' music of Mr. Bowie. Peter Frampton played lead guitar during that tour. I was thirty (30) feet from the stage. The turf was gone and I was dancing in an inch of mud, but I didn't care. Dude! It was BOWIE!

Pet Shop Boys
Also in 1987 was The Performance Tour was the most unique event. PSB did performance art at The Warfield. Each set was a more like acts in a play. Wonderful, just wonderful, even from the "nose bleed seats". I was a bit disappointed though-
Dancing was strongly discouraged.

The BoDeans, The Pretenders, U2
The year was 1988. The event was Concerts On The Green at Oakland Stadium.
What a totally awesome triple play! First on stage were The BoDeans doing their hit
"Runaway". Thirty (30) minutes after their set, The Pretenders were on stage. I was so close to the stage that I could see Chrissy's sweat on her brow! And yeah, it is possible to mosh to "Mystery Achievement" and "Tattoo Love Boys".
U2. What can I say? Just one word: Incredible! I had anticipated the huge crowd that was around me during The Pretenders set, to completely engulf the space
occupied by my concert companion and I, so before Bono and the boys came on stage, it was up to the stands we went. A much better view too.

Depeche Mode
1988 was a great year for concert going! Depeche was at Mountain View's Shoreline
Ampitheatre for their Music for the Masses Tour. Martin Gore's lyrics and Dave Gahan's vocals combined with the music created by Andy Fletcher and Alan Wilder
infused the the "fast fashion" sound. There's nothing like dancing on the lawn!

The B-52's, Billy Bragg
This show was at Shoreline, sometime in the early 90s. The Bs didn't disappoint the
crowd, as usual. Yet it was Billy Bragg that I wanted to see. I so enjoyed his lyric:
"... just because you're gay, I won't turn you away. If you stick around, I'm sure we'll find some common ground..." from the song "Sexuality". Cool, real cool.


NIN (Nine Inch Nails)
Who would've thought NIN at SJSUs Event Center in 1994? I heard about the show and just had to go. It was almost like a summons. NIN has always been, in this Behr's opinion, all about Trent Reznor's angst ridden music. "Head like a hole, black as your soul, I'd rather die than give you control."
A lyric from "Head Like A Hole" (Pretty Hate Machine) I really like his music. To me, it's thought provoking and dark. Very dark and haunting, like Bauhaus, Ministry, Cure and Linkin Park.

SemiSonic
I saw Semisonic in 1998 at the Filmore in SF. "Closing Time" and "Singing in my Sleep" were getting alot of airplay on Live 105. Yet at the show the song that blew me away was their cover of Prince's song "Erotic City".

Susan Tedeschi
In the Commonwealth, there are many convenience stores by the name of "Tedeschi's". I was surprised to learn that this singers' surname and the mini markets were all in the same family! I saw Susan when she and her band played the Catalyst in Santa Cruz back in'99. She's just a little thing. Susan stands perhaps a whole five (5) feet tall, but her voice- Oh man, her voice is so large!

Rolling Stones, Sheryl Crow
In the Summer of Y2k, I worked as a "Blue Coat" for "Bill Graham Presents".
A Blue Coat did just about everything in regards to crowd control and general security. My assigned position for that night at PacBell Park was on the field "protecting" the massive speaker tower located stage left. It was raining that night in The City. Not quite a downpour but rather the annoying heavy mist/drizzle. It was in this weather that Sheryl was performing in.
Yet when her set was completed, it was like the deity in charge of weather, decided that it would not rain on the Stones. By the time Mick bounded on stage, the rain had stopped and the sky was partly cloudy.

Aerosmith
The bad boys from Boston played at Shoreline in Y2k. My assignment for BGP was to limit traffic at the main stage gate. Although, I wasn't backstage per se, I was the guy the throngs of "support people" had to go through to get to all the tents immediately behind backstage. When my break rolled around, it was customary to shed the blue coat and join the audience up on the lawn. I caught up with another blue coat halfway up on the lawn. We shared a bowl and rocked out to "Sweet Emotion", "Walk This Way" and "Draw The Line".

The Other Ones
The last show I worked for BGP was The Other Ones at the Henry J. Kaiser in Oakland. My assignment was crowd control in the six (6) foot wide space between the railing and front of the stage. The Kaiser is a "no smoking" venue. Well, more like a no tobacco smoking venue. I stood with my back to the band for the entire show. So I guess I didn't "see" them. I did, however, get quite a contact from the herb smoke wafting toward the stage. I can easily understand how a spiritual connection would've been made when Jerry was still alive. Although, I think the message of caring for your fellow man was lost on some of the younger teenage crowd whom were there with their grandparents.

Def Leppard
Def was doing a tour with another old school band that I can't for the life of me remember. It was in '05 at the Municipal Stadium in San Jose. I had a female friend in the late 80s that was an extreme fan of Def Leppard so some of the songs kind of grew on me. "Pour Some Sugar On Me" from "Hysteria" and "Rock Of Ages" from "Pyromania" were the songs that I enjoyed the most from those days. Marky asked if I wanted to go along with him to the show. Seeing and hearing the band play those songs were great. I surprised myself that I actually remembered the lyrics!

Xavier Rudd
The last show I'd seen was also in 2005, at the Great American Music Hall. A fairly small venue, it reminded me of a mini Filmore. Marky had asked if like to go with him to the show. I didn't know who Xavier Rudd was, yet I trust Marky's musical prowess, as comparable to my own. Xavier had been getting alot of airplay on KFOG and it he had caught Mark's attention. Xavier's a multi-talented young guy in his 20s from "Down Under". A self-taught musician whom plays guitar, drums, bongos, and the
didgeridoo.
Xavier's voice reminded us of that of Paul Simon. All factors combined led to a fantastic presentation and very danceable.

So Sayeth Das Behr