Tagged: family
I Have No Friends with Whom to Lament Ozzy’s Passing
My pizza place boss, Joe, was the man who introduced me to Ozzy. I was 16. I knew of Metallica, but was scared of Ozzy still. Then I heard his music and had the epiphany that we all did—all of us Baptist kids who were taught (why?) that he was singing satanic songs. Satanic or not, all I knew was his songs and his voice were epic.
Joe had a funny story from his younger days of pissing in the landscaped bushes while in line for Ozzy’s autograph so as to not lose his place. And whether it was the same event or not, when he handed Ozzy the CD, Ozzy signed it and then passed it to the next band member, but not before Joe ripped it out of his hands and declared he only wanted Ozzy’s signature! (Naturally, Joe was drunk, and this accounts for both parts of the story.)
I remember going to Ozzfest at Sandstone Amphitheater in 1998. Over two weeks I saw Van Halen, Ozzy (Limp Bizkit, Megadeth, Tool, too), and Metallica. Talk about a phenomenal two weeks of live music. Life changing.
I remember this same Joe called in to the pizza place when he was in Chicago at a Black Sabbath concert. This would’ve been around the turn of the millennium too. He was, oddly, again in the bathroom. Why he ever thought to check in with us “kids from work” is beyond me.
I think, but can’t say for sure, that I saw another Ozzfest, but whatever the concert was billed as, Black Sabbath was the headliner. That was also a powerful experience. Toni Iommi standing in all black with that cross chain he always wears was just an incredible sight to see. Metallica is the definitive “band”, but Toni is the definitive lead guitarist. So cool.
I remember that all these concerts were years after the farewell tour “Live and Loud” two CD concert set I listened to all the time—my only solo Ozzy CDs. I also had Paranoid. But that was it. At some point I borrowed for an extended period of time Ozzmosis and fell in love with Perry Mason and I Just Want You.
Think of it. The superhuman man writes “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired” and suburbanite kids like me feel like he knew exactly what we were going through. Ha.
Some fun trivia. Limp Bizkit just opened for Metallica. And Zakk Wylde, of solo Ozzy days (whom I saw—I think) and is definitely on the double CD album, was there with Pantera too. And if you haven’t watched any of the (fairly abysmal) final performance from July 5th, Zakk has a truly heartwarming moment where he, playing for Ozzy, understands that Ozzy is not going to sound as good as the old days and so starts to sing with him, but like, in an all cool-like and as if it was planned etc way. But there was no plan. See 20 sec mark and how Zakk “covered down”, as the Army pukes say. I think he’ll be welcomed into rockstar heaven for that one move alone.
I want to end by reminding the reader that I have often thought and implied and directly spoken the desire that Metallica NOT take the stage when they are too old to do it justice. I still pray fervently that they honor my wish. But as we are almost 30 days after the pair of Metallica shows and I still feel like my voice isn’t fully recovered, the thought, purely speculative, that Ozzy essentially gave everything to that last (admittedly pitiful) stage show gives me great peace.
“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
You did it, Ozzy. You embodied rock’n’roll, not just for a season, but with your entire life. Rest in peace.
It’s My Birthday
I grew up on the movie City Slickers.
In short, it is difficult for me to not agree with his aging bit.
There’s also the natural element of “taking stock” in any anniversary. This seems to lead to either 1. forcedly happy and mostly untrue feelings or 2. depressing realities.
Something on my mind today is the recent observation (more to follow in my next reading log post) that life is unfolding precisely as we/I want. That is a scary thought, no? In my case, I put up with a lot of depressing shyat because I want to be around my kids as much as possible. But is there a way to be around them with less drama? I don’t know. It doesn’t appear so. But I am working on it.
I leave you with a sad, but I can report 100% accurate, commentary centering on the concept of “natural virtues” (you might say “inherent virtues” in 2025), with a close look at “veracity” and “savages”. JS Mill is the writer.

Who Knew?
Who knew that the rivers would flood to the extent that they did?
That is the only question that matters. Who knew?
Not, “What were the warnings?” Not, “Would pre-DOGE situation have known?” Not, “When did…?” No.
Who knew?
Is there any meteorologist that would claim that they were interpreting the data and the data suggested that what happened was possible to happen?
Who knew?
If the meteorologists thought, “Zero chance of 26ft rise, but non-zero chance of 25 foot rise,” then we want to know that.
If they thought, “Unlikely, but non-zero chance of 26ft rise,” then we want to know.
None of the other questions matter until someone admits that they knew the floods could happen precisely as the floods did happen. It doesn’t matter which warning system was in place. It doesn’t matter when the warnings were given. DOGE doesn’t matter. Nothing matters until we learn if any human being on earth (likely a meteorologist in TX) knew that the floods would play out as they did play out.
I, for one, did not know that what happened in TX was possible.
What I want to know now is who did know.
Thoughts On Metallica’s Denver Shows
I stood in awe on Night One when they entered Mile High. And I never sat down again. The professionalism, the polish, the poise—it’s perfect. I do not attend many concerts (mostly Metallica and various symphonies) but Metallica is doing something other musicians aren’t. Which leads me to my next thought.
Is it time? Can we finally admit that Metallica just writes better songs? Their songs are just better. That’s why their fanbase is among the largest ever amassed.
Night One, as I said, I stood the entire show. I was in section 309–essentially the fifty-yard line—half-way up the section. Pretty great seats. At times, between songs, I spun around to see how the crowd was doing and was surprised to find them all sitting. “Oh well. No problem,” I thought. “I’ll just motivate them.” And I did. Metallica was down there giving us their all, the least we can do is give our all. Some, not all, got the memo.
Night Two (last night), after Pantera, before they took the stage, I felt a tap on the shoulder and turned around to see a man signaling the lady two rows up is who wanted my attention. As my eyes continued the journey, they landed on what we all would’ve recognized as our high school Algebra 2 teacher. Undeterred from having a good time, I immediately said, “Are you ready!?” She gave me a, “Yes.” And then she proceeded to describe to me how horrible it was on Night One because I stood and blocked her view. Naturally she followed this speech by asking, “At least on a couple songs could you sit down?”
Wow.
Given the movie that recently released, and using the 10% truth rule of Air Force Performance Reports, I asked her, “Did Metallica save your life?”
She didn’t seem to get it.
The other fans were only mildly interested in this back-and-forth. I listened for longer than any heathen fan would have and dryly concluded, “I will be standing.”
She continued to lament to all around her in a whiny, relentless, disbelieving manner (partly ashamed she had asked such a thing, I had to imagine) and I turned to acknowledge her again—again, trying to show respect for her effort. This time, because it was loud, I randomly found myself making the “sorry” ASL fist circle over my heart, which drew a laugh from a mom my age, there with her husband and their teenage daughter. I can’t be sure she “signs” but I think she could “feel” the moment and appreciated my attempts to respect this Miss Nelson, or Mrs. Tietz as it were if memory serves.
“Metallica is Metallica.” Integrity in the flesh. That might sum my thoughts up best. They don’t pretend. They are just simply the best band on the planet, writing the best songs—the definitive band. We can all learn from Metallica. We all owe Metallica. The influence of Metallica is worldwide and enduring.
Was that it? That’s my only question. Will I ever see them perform again? Lars was more vague than normal on his, “Denvah!! We’ll see you again not soon enough!” farewell.
I don’t enjoy the thought that that was it for me. But I do think the world will witness something unlike it has ever seen when the actual end comes for them. What king, what leader, what celebrity has ever accomplished so much for so many?
No, ma’am. People don’t “sit for a couple songs”. When people have taken full account of their lives, people stand for Metallica.
(And for the “W” see this clip from after the show and after the lights came on.)
The Idea: Keep My Kids Out of War
How best to accomplish this?
My method is simple. I will teach them of the utter madness of most wars. If I am successful, then my kids will be so distrustful of the concept of destruction-based-improvement, that they’ll only engage in it when it is absolutely the best decision.
Why this post? Because I am not certain my simple method will work.
What say you?
Our Betters
You know those semi-recent additions to highway signage? The huge black digital signs?
Well, last night, my windshield wipers were going so fast and making such a racket that I almost couldn’t read the message some of our betters felt necessary to share with me: “Rain and Wet Roads. Caution.”
This is as bad, probably worse than, as texture-less braille on the sign at the local park.
Parental Bliss
Your 4 year old is eating a watermelon wedge.
She loves it.
And you love watching her bite diligently closer and closer to the rind.
You turn away to talk to your spouse.
You turn back and there is no more watermelon. No red part. No rind.
Behind the empty plate on the table is nothing but your little girl wearing the satisfied expression that only comes from a job well done.
That is bliss.
“Had I Known”, The Game
I have all sorts of analogies for why I read—current favorite is, “Books are the map of life; find yourself.” But when I read something totally new—Vietnam War history in this case—I find myself continually considering, “Wow. Had I known this earlier in life, I would’ve…” and then a fun imagination game plays out.
How about you? What information have you read which forced you to play the game, “Had I known…”?
I just ordered a “F%#* Communism” flag, probably for ceiling of garage, because of my reading. (The one created by Paul Krassner and John Francis Putnam in ‘63.) I share this so y’all won’t think I only read for its mental fitness.
It was mentioned (as a sign, not a flag) in an article about the “defoliation” AF squadron whose classically AF Pilot wit-filled motto was, “Only YOU Can Prevent Forests.”
I can hear you now. “Why?” And, “Don’t you have toddlers?”
Because as much delight as this game provides, I don’t want my kids to play it regarding such a pivotal war.
Seriously though, do comment below with any instances that have initiated the “Had I Known” game in your mind.
My Fellow Americans, Do You Know Who You Are?
Here’s a passage from James Fenimore Cooper’s Afloat and Ashore, circa 1840s. (We would call it a YA adventure novel.)
“So I will concede that money is the great end of American life—that there is little else to live for in the great model republic. Politics have fallen into such hands, that office will not even give social station… (Italics mine).”
This is from a speech made by the main character, a 17 yr old.
My point is this: Do you honestly think MAGA or AOC is capable of increasing your opinion of politicians? There is at least 180yrs of evidence to support the idea that you’re a fool if you do.
The disdain you feel for politicians is in your blood no different than your blood is in your body.
Larry David Eats His Own. It’s All That Can Be Done to Bill Maher.
I’m not going to make it childishly easy, but I have a fantastic anecdote for why the Left’s constant use of Hitler will never work.
When my Ethiopian step-son first had an opportunity to get me a birthday gift after coming to America and joining his mom and I’s family, he got me a T-Shirt. The shirt was black and on the front had a bald eagle, mid-flight, and a rider. The rider was a superimposed George Washington, taken from presumably some famous painting.
I loved the shirt. I loved the gift. Most of all, I felt heard.
“Not bad,” I thought.
The first big opportunity to put the shirt on full display was the county fair. We’re talking small town Minnesota. This was during or around COVID and so everyone was already bursting to get outdoors cause a ruckus. Or I was. Like all small towns in Minnesota, there was a wildly disproportionate amount of Somalis and they were sure to be at the fair, for the proper American reason: boredom.
Imagine the scene for a second. I proudly walk out among this multicultural crowd, wearing GW riding a bald eagle. I am checking out the other whites’ shirts, and, as expected, they were mostly about how they would kill anyone who tried to take their guns.
The Somalis, like all immigrants, wore Puma brand gear. (I remember having like one Puma brand item as a kid and being terribly embarrassed by the non-Nike, Reebok, Adidas gear.) No matter, these kids are Generation Puma, through and through.
Now, reader, let this scene play out for a bit. I keep walking and scanning shirts. I also scan eyes to see if any ignite with patriotic sparkle and joy when they see my shirt.
None do.
You can imagine my disappointment.
Finally, while ordering dessert before leaving, a youngish white girl that was serving—likely a veteran’s daughter—said, “I like your shirt.”
I am not going to tell you the answer to the riddle, because I don’t believe you’re stupid. The point of my anecdote is to give a BIG clue as to why Larry David can only further evidence why the Left and Democrats are limited to reinforcement of their incompetence when they bring up Hitler. It can never take their intended effect.
Do you see?