"Swing Down, Sweet Chariot" Parliament-Parliament Live

"Dude George Clinton is down at the NEX signing autographs man, check it out!" PLGR came into the Ready Room with a bunch of photographs and a CD.  PLGR being his callsign, Ready Room being the place in the squadron where we'd sit around and brief flights, bullshit, and just hang out, the NEX being the store on base which is basically a big mall.  "No shit dude? I'll have to check that out." I said, logged off of my computer and hopped into the car with a few of the boys and headed down.

When we arrived there was George, looking like George with a few of his band sitting at a table signing autographs, such a strange sight for a military base and the man and his band have consumed more than their fair share of illicit drugs over the years.  There wasn't much of a line and I was just standing there with the CD I purchased in my hand when one of the band looked at me and said:

"Man I dig that suit that yo wearing."
"This? Flight suit?"
"Yea man, they must be hard to get your hands on brother."
"Nah dude I have tons of them."
"I wanna wear one of them on staaage man."
"Well I can get you one."
"Alllllright."

And then their manager stepped in, a light skinned black woman with long straight hair dressed in a business suit that looked professional but you can just tell it wasn't her particular choice of attire.  She asked for my number and information, saying that they would be here for another hour and if I couldn't get back in time to let her know.  I left, grabbed a flight suit, ripped my name tag off of mine and stuck it on, took a squadron patch and slapped it on the other side of the chest and drove back to the NEX and passed it off to the sexy disciple of soul and funk.  She told me that they were playing tonight and said there would be eight tickets at Will Call waiting for me.  I went back to the squadron and asked the boys who wanted to go.  PLGR was in, Dingo too and a few other randoms.

After work and later in the evening I went down to "Freebird" in Jacksonville Beach named after Lynyrd Skynyrd who called Jacksonville their home.  I waited in a decent line by myself with a group of five old school black boys in front of me, they were feeling high, slapping each other and being loud.  When the Will Call window opened up I stepped forward and they were in ear shot.

"I'm on George's list"...(and said my last name)
"Man look at this white boy saying he on George's list and shit" as well as other miscellaneous ramblings I heard behind my head.
When the person behind the counter presented me with the eight tickets the boys' attitude changed.
"Niggah, he was on that list, check that shit out."
I turned around and slapped the one closest to me five.

And that was how probably the greatest concert of my life began.  There were thirty people on stage playing various brass and other instruments, everyone was dancing and singing to the depths of their soul.  It had one of the best Mr. Goodvibes feel I have ever experienced.  Dressed in strange costumes with wigs, plastic noses....it was all too much.  Then off to the side of the stage was the bassist with a doo rag on his head and a green flight suit on his body with the name tag "Malibu" on his chest.

To this day I throw on Parliament in the safety of my own home and just dig it down deep and low and connect with the mothership in their quest to bring down from heaven the holy Funk with a capital F.  It is a ceremony I recommend to all.

The history and story behind Parliament P Funk mythology is quite interesting, check out the wiki page at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P-Funk_mythology

"Young Blood" The Naked and the Famous-From a single

After "The Endless Summer" there have been many surf and ski films that attempt to replicate the magic captured by Bruce Brown decades ago, most fail miserably.  Warren Miller has a few good ones but most grow tired after a while, even Brown himself couldn't get the magic back in subsequent films.  It is a tough formula to put together, the right shots with the right tunes but when it does come together it is magic.

Two weeks ago I had a friend in town staying with me, born and raised in Colorado, lived in various places in the world including the wild of Alaska, he's no stranger to white powder.  Sitting around killing time and just catching up, telling him of what the next few months have in store for me a trip to Jackson Hole came up which digressed into the film "The Art of Flight".  Him having not seen it I threw it up on the screen and we sat (me for the hundredth time) amazed at what an insanely good film this is.  Somehow, someway they found the formula mentioned earlier and I never tire from watching this film that traverses the globe (Alaska, Jackson, Patagonia, Aspen, Whistler...) with a group of snowboarders comprised of incredible footage from their travels.  

One night after probably too many drinks we came home and I had "Young Blood" stuck in my head, bought it on iTunes and we listened to it over and over, however something was lacking.  The song was great and hit most of the right parts of the soul but the missing was the footage.  For some reason (although more than likely it was the drink) my friend deemed it impossible to find the part of the film in which the song was played, possibly because I was more sober I couldn't understand why this dragon could not be slayed and grabbed the controller.  It was found, the maiden was saved, the dragon slayed and we watched a couple of guys pulling massive airs through trees, fatuous jumps on rabid slopes, off of logs and landing them all in kosher powder while the synth-pop blasted over the HD.  

It was laughable, it motivated one to be careless, reckless and forget all the fuck filth scum swine bullshit of the world.  With so many concerns, cares and other distractions of the world we forget to ask the important questions: "Why not?" "Who Cares?" and the imperative declarative "Fuck it."