Grugger’s Way

Most of the faces and names were familiar: Alicia Keys, Lady Gaga, Carrie Underwood, Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Lopez, Janet Jackson, Keith Urban. There was even a special performance by Whitney Houston, which was a really tearful, heartfelt performance which I think everyone enjoyed.

But the teaser at each commercial break was a promised “spectacular” by newcomer and American Idol first runner-up, Adam Lambert.

Adam Lambert, the flamboyant and out-of-the-closet gay man, delivered what was either OVER THE TOP, OUTRAGEOUS AND FANTASTIC! or else was VULGAR, OBSCENE, OFF-KEY, SELF-INDULGENT, SADO-MASOCHISTIC TRASH. Trash.

The reviewers around the country on the morning after were just about evenly split between the two extremes. In other words, no one said it was just hum-drum, so-so, average or just okay.

NOPE. Feelings about the performance were strong on both sides. Why couldn’t he have been a little more subtle? Perhaps brushing his hand against the keyboard player’s cheek instead of laying a full open-mouth lip-lock on him? Why did he have to carry the bondage thing to the point of rubbing a man’s face into his own crotch in a gesture that was deemed “repulsive” enough to get the censor’s cut for the West Coast tape delay broadcast?

I don’t know the answers. I do know that he missed some notes, sounded flat, seemed to run out of energy. I think it will all take a toll on him. He might be fiercely defensive for the next few days, but I hope he realizes that he doesn’t have to go to such extremes to separate himself from the “pop” music of American Idol.

My wife was a big fan, but last night left her shaking her head and wondering if he will be someone she will bother to watch in the future. She did not pre-order his CD, which surprised me, and now I don’t know if she will even buy it.

Someone commented that my post on Labor Day camping made me sound like a grumpy old man. Yup.

I am, in many ways, old-fashioned, with habits and dislikes fairly common to people in their sixties, particularly men, I think. We seem less tolerant of other people’s quirks and habits than do women.

Women seem more compassionate, compromising and cooperative.

Men seem more confrontational, combative, and other “C” words, like crass and crabby.

And WHY bring Off-road, four-wheeler ALL TERRAIN VEHICLES to a campground?

I hope these party people are all exhausted from their weekend of drinking, smoking, listening to loud music, rip-roaring around on the ATV’s and generally being a pain in the butt to those of us who were hoping for a little peace and quiet. Perhaps we should stay home on three-day weekends.

Now I understand why retirees enjoy the OFF-SEASON so much!

All I can say is how much I appreciate enforced Quiet Hours in a campground where the Host is actually On-Duty!

Another thing that made this past weekend endurable was the rain. Lots of rain tends to calm things down and confine the noisy kids to their own tents and campers.

My wife thinks I should just throw out stuff when it gets old, but if I like a shirt, I will keep it and wear it until the collar frays.

Cuffs can fray and I will just roll up the sleeves, but when the collar threads start to show, I will give it up.

Once I am finished with a shirt, it can’t really go to Goodwill, as you may have guessed. I use them for paint rags. I don’t usually have a lot of old shirts to use as paint rags.

My Mother says she is just like me. She keeps stuff FOREVER! I know it was really (REALLY!) hard for her to downsize from a big house to a little apartment. Frankly, I am surprised she doesn’t still have stuff in a storage rental somewhere. (Maybe she does; I know I would)

I think my oldest shirt is 39 years old. I wore it in college, back in 1970 and ‘71. There is a lot of sentimental attachment to some of my old shirts. I can remember (vaguely) getting extremely drunk in one of my oldest shirts. I’m fairly certain that I made a fool of myself in my oldest shirts; something that I did with fair regularity back in 1970 and ‘71. Those were great years.