L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

Thursday Joke of the Week

The Ticket

(This one is true in the sense that I really did deliver this just as described – and paid the consequences…)

I walked in the other day and slammed my purse on the table. “Goddammit!”

My family jumped.

“What happened?” groaned my husband, no doubt imagining our insurance rates going up.

“I got a ticket!” I moaned.

“Oh no! What did you do?”

“It really wasn’t my fault! I was drive down the street and of all things, a bird hit my windshield. Bam! Just like that! But then its wing got stuck in the wiper blade. It was awful. The poor thing was flapping around and I couldn’t get it off. So I started the windshield wipers and it goes up and down. I’m trying not to crash. Finally it came free, sailed over the top of my car and right smack into the windshield of the police car that was just behind me. That’s when he pulled me over.”

“What?!?” My husband was really steamed. “That doesn’t make any sense! What did he give you a ticket for?”

“Flipping him the bird,” I said.

Video or it didn’t happen

At some point video replaced writing. I’m not sure when that happened, but I’ve seen the trend even in my own posts. Can’t think of something to blog about? Slap a vid in that puppy!

But there’s no denying that video is the current killer app on the Web. And now the killer app is in the hands of the 500 (million) pound gorilla.

Now, for the first time, you can attend live video virtual concerts directly on Facebook. It’s through a new app called StreamJam. If you’ve drunk the Facebook Koolaid, head over there and get the app. Then, at 5 pm Thursday, July 29th at 5 pm, click on the StreamJam icon or go here. Or even watch it right here on this blog if you like (Yeah I know it doesn’t really fit the space here).

You’ll enter a virtual club where you can schmooze it up with others in the audience, heckle the performer (yes, I’ll see the messages) and see live video of yours truly on the virtual stage.

Thursday Joke of the Week

The police arrested Patrick Lawrence, a 22-year-old white male, resident of Dacula, GA, in a pumpkin patch at 11:38 p.m. on Friday. Lawrence will be charged with lewd and lascivious behavior, public indecency, and public intoxication at the Gwinnett County courthouse on Monday. The suspect explained that as he was passing a pumpkin patch he decided to stop.

“You know, a pumpkin is soft and squishy inside, and there was no one around here for miles. At least I thought there wasn’t,” he stated in a phone interview.

Lawrence went on to say that he pulled over, picked out a pumpkin, cut a hole in it, and proceeded to satisfy his need. “I guess I was just really into it, you know?”

Patrol officer Brenda Taylor pulled over and approached him.

“It was an unusual situation, that’s for sure,” said Officer Taylor. “I walked up to (Lawrence) and he’s…just working away at this pumpkin.”

“I just went up and said… ‘Excuse me sir, but do you realize that you are screwing a pumpkin?’”

“He froze and was clearly very surprised that I was there, and then looked me straight in the face and said, ‘A pumpkin? Damn… is it midnight already?’”

The past WAS in color

My friend, Rob, sent me a link to the remarkable photographs of Russian chemist and photographer, Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii, showing Russia on the eve of World War I and the coming of the revolution. From 1909-1912 and again in 1915, Prokudin-Gorskii traveled across the Russian Empire, documenting life, landscapes and the work of Russian people.

My own family left Ukraine (it still feels odd to me to leave off the “the”) in the 1920s. I have no family pictures at all from those days. I look at the scene in the image here and wonder if my grandfather’s village looked like that. Likely, it did.

One thing my friend and I agreed on, looking through the pictures is that the architecture, technology, cleanliness and organization seem to equal or surpass the US at the same time. And just look what happened under Communism just a few years later. “Look at pictures from the USSR from the 1950s,” said Rob, “and they’re all hollow-eyed, frightened looking. They killed the spirit of those people.”

It wasn’t like that. At first. I remember the stories my grandfather told me of his childhood in the small Ukrainian town of Ilinytsy. He remembered marching in the parades after the revolution, carrying signs and yelling, “Hurrah, Lenin! Hurrah, Trotsky!” As a Jew, it wasn’t until the tsar was overthrown that he was allowed to attend school. His mother proudly ran a collective kitchen for the Communist party.

It didn’t last long, though. Chaos followed – Mensheviks, Bolsheviks.

“We didn’t know when we went to bed if our money would be any good when we got up in the morning. Some of it was printed on such poor paper you couldn’t fold it without it crumbling.”

Eventually, his father left the Soviet Union and made his way to Toronto, where he tried to earn enough money to send for his family. It took over ten years, working in the tire business. Family legend has it that he sold a set of tires to Micky Katz who never paid up. All that time my tough little grandmother was sole support of seven children. To make ends meet, she and a neighbor set up a still and sold bootleg whiskey. One of my grandfather’s brothers, five years old, got into the whiskey one day and was found passed cold. Later, in the US and for the rest of his life, he earned a living in the liquor business.

Such memories are stirred up by a few old photographs of strangers!

And when will we see pictures again, showing such strength and pride?

Moon Falling Down

Machinima is the use of real-time graphics rendering engines, mostly three-dimensional (3-D), to generate computer animation.

This was the technique used to create a music video for my song “Moon Falling Down” filmed and produced by IdeaJuice Studios. The video was filmed in part in the INSPIRE Space Park, a well known and awe inspiring build in the Second Life virtual world.

When my son was young, maybe six or seven, he came to me and wanted to know how the moon stays up in the sky? Why doesn’t it fall down and hit the earth.

Being a sadistic parent, I told him, “Honey, actually the moon IS falling down ALL the time. It just keeps missing… as long as you’re good.”

Mostly true!

But little did I know what revenge he would wreak a few years later for that little lark. When he got his learner’s permit…

Song Moon Falling Down available for download here.

Thursday Joke of the Week

The Mistress

A middle aged husband and wife were having dinner at a very fine restaurant when this absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives the husband a big open mouthed kiss, then says she’ll see him later and walks away.

The wife glares at her husband and says, “Who was that?”

“Oh,” replies the husband, “she’s my mistress.”

“Well, that’s the last straw,” says the wife. “I’ve had enough, I want a divorce!”

“I can understand that,” replies her husband, “but remember, if we get a divorce it will mean no more shopping trips to Paris, no more wintering in Barbados, no more summers in Tuscany, no more Jaguar in the garage and no more yacht club. But the decision is yours.”

Just then, a mutual friend enters the restaurant with a gorgeous babe on his arm.

“Who’s that woman with Ted?” asks the wife.

“That’s his mistress,” says her husband.

“Ours is prettier,” she sniffs.

And boy are my legs tired…

The Redmond Criterium Bicycle Race is the longest running bike race in the US. 70 years!

And in true, small town style it’s celebrated with music, a parade with home-made floats and kids on trikes decorated with crepe paper streamers, fatty food, beer and general excess.

This year’s Derby Days Festival kicked off with a night of live music, headlined by the Nowhere Men – a local Beatles cover band. The city certainly knows its demographic! Look for me in the parade Saturday morning.

Thursday Joke of the Week

Five surgeons meet for coffee and the talk turns to what type of people are easiest to operate on.

The first surgeon, from New York, says, “I like to see accountants on my operating table, because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered.”

The second, from Chicago, responds, “Yeah, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is color coded.”

The third surgeon, from Dallas, says, “No, I really think librarians are the best, everything inside them is in alphabetical order.”

The fourth surgeon, from Los Angeles chimes in: “You know, I like construction workers, those guys always understand when you have a few
parts left over.”

But the fifth surgeon, from Washington DC shut them all up when he observed: “You’re all wrong. Politicians are the easiest to operate on: there are no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains and no spine – and the head and the asshole are interchangeable.”

Aaaaahhhhhh cont.

It’s like one continuous, tension-easing, seven-day sigh. It will be time to inhale again soon enough. But not just yet.

Time Flies When You’re Having Rum

Here it is the last day already. Where has a week in paradise fled? Into a tall frosted glass.

One of the many lovely attractions on Maui is the Seven Sacred Pools. It’s a long drive though and many miss it. But no tourist would miss the Seven Sacred Cocktails.

1. Mai tai, Lahaina Inn. I couldn’t recall the name of the bar so we stopped a group of locals in Kihei to see if they might know it from the description: an open air tavern facing the beach, lots of wood, ceiling fans and old whaling paraphernalia: harpoons on the wall and a ship’s prow figurehead over the bar. “Lahaina?” moaned one. “Isn’t that somewhere in Southeast Asia?” Lahaina is maybe 35 minutes drive up the coast, but it might as well have been another continent. When people settle in Hawaii, they settle. Like limpets. I wish we’d settled somewhere else for happy hour, despite promising appearances. The mai tai here looks like there’s a nice float of rum on the top, but it’s an illusion. A bottle of rum may have been somewhere in the vicinity but a sad amount of the glass was devoted to fruit juice. A wedge of pineapple is always welcome though.
2. This is a Kona Coconut Ale. I consumed this glass of this fine icy brew at the bar at the Kumu Bar and Grill in the Wailea Marriott. It was just after sunset and the sky was still painted with extravagant strokes of salmon and aqua. I’ve looked in vain for this particular ale in other establishments. It would be a crime against drinking humanity if Kumu has exclusive access to it. We get Kona brews in Seattle, but I’ve never seen this one. I will be on the hunt now, though.
3. Longhi’s, Wailea. This is a small miracle called a Lycheeto: Cruzan citrus rum, fresh mint leaves, fresh lime, soho lychee & club soda. Longhi’s turned out to be a destination all its own. Glen, our conspiratorial waiter who bears an uncanny resemblance Peter Lorre in Casa Blanca turned out to be an excellent tour guide through the bibulous backroads of booze by the beach. More from Glen in a moment. But savor the noble lychee for a moment. Mmmmmmm…
4. A Pina Colada at Mambo’s in Paia. (Don’t be distracted by the margarita lurking in the shadows.) How better to reward onesself for making the strenuous drive to Hana and back than with a little refreshment in laid-back, tie-died Paia. Well, I suppose there’s the herbal refreshment the island is known for, but we settled down with the fruity varieties. I can only tolerate about one pina colada a year. They’re a little too rich for my taste. But the thick and frosty pint somehow evaporated from the glass as if by magic. I give it a high rating on the fruit meter, but neither it nor it’s companion, the lovely margarita there, were excessively long on spirits.
5. Back at Longhi’s, the capable hands of Glen delivered unto us the Acai Yuzo Sour Mojito: Absolute Berry Acai vodka, yuzu sour, fresh squeezed orange juice, basil leaves, cranberry juice & club soda. Lovely. Really. You’ll have to ask Glen to bring you the secret book of cocktails. It’s not on the main menu. Tell him Eva sent you.
6. Happy hour at 5 Palms, Kihei. Or is it Wailea. I’m losing track. This is a Mango Margarita and my advice is: don’t. Just don’t. Speaking as a native Southern California girl, margaritas are sacred. They contain certain magical properties and one simply should not tamper with the spell. The spell does not include mango. Or a maraschino cherry. The spell DOES include tequila, which this glass, frosty and tempting as it may look, is innocent of. And frankly, I will tolerate logos on beer glasses, but a cocktail should be served in plain, clean glass. Am I right?
7. Behold the seventh sacred cocktail and the one that will remain, shining, in my memory long after the last of the sand has been shaken out of the swimsuits: The Garden Terrace Fuck Me Mai Tai at Longhi’s. It’s an “exotic blend of Ten Cane Rum, Cruzan Citrus Rum, Malibue Rum, tropical juices with a float of Myers Rum and is the grail of tropical drinks. THIS is what a Hawaiian vacation should be. FOUR kinds of rum in one glass. Heaven!