Posting this for quick reference, next time I have to shut down a moron. Here goes…
The next time someone says, “BuT dEmOcRaTs WeRe AgAiNsT CiViL rIgHtS!!!!” Stop that moron right away. This is an oft-repeated lie that simply doesn’t hold up against fact-based analysis.
The Civil Rights Act was overwhelmingly approved on by the U.S. House and Senate in 1964. The votes were:
House: 290 – 130
Senate: 73 – 27
It’s true, percentage-wise, that more Republicans voted in favor of the landmark legislation than Democrats. The original House version:[1]
Democratic Party: 152 – 96 (61 – 39%)
Republican Party: 138 – 34 (80 – 20%)
Senate vote:
Democratic Party: 46 – 21 (69 – 31%)
Republican Party: 27 – 6 (82 –18%)
Here’s what those final vote counts leave out: this was very much a North vs. South vote. First, let’s look at the House:
Southern Democrats: 7 yea, 87.
Southern Republicans: 0 yea, 10 nay.
Non-Southern Democrats: 145 yea, 9 nay.
Non-Southern Republicans: 138 yea, 24 nay.
How about the Senate:
Southern Democrats: 1 yea, 20 nay.
Southern Republicans: 0 yea, 1 nay.
Non-Southern Democrats: 45 yea, 1 nay.
Non-Southern Republicans: 27 yea, 5 nay.
Democrats didn’t support Civil Rights? Please. The South didn’t support it. Nobody talks about Southern Republicans who voted in opposition of it because there weren’t many of them at the time. Further, it’s laughable today to hear conservatives dangle Civil Rights as some sort of gotcha at Democrats, when Republicans are applauding the Supreme Court for dismantling Civil Rights with every 6 – 3 vote it can get.
So…since we last spoke, I finally had COVID. I first tested positive on 16 December, but probably had it for at least a day by that point. While I hadn’t yet received the latest booster, I did get all the other COVID vaccines. And yes, this was my first time getting COVID. A full 21 months after the initial lockdown. How was I able to go so long without catching COVID? Great question. I think it was luck, mostly. But it’s also worth noting I live alone. My exposure to the outside world is relatively fleeting, compared to others. I work in an office, instead of dealing with scads of different people (like casino and service workers). But I think living alone helps a lot. I’ve been living ‘normally’ for several months now; haven’t worn a mask in public in a long time. I go out with friends. I don’t hide from the world. But yeah, first time with COVID.
Luckily for me, it was relatively mild. It was mostly a head cold for me. I didn’t have any of the red-flag symptoms: no fever, bad cough, shortness of breath. While I’d like to chalk it up to my hearty constitution, it’s probably because I’ve had (most of) the shots. The worst it got was sometime on my second or third day. Fatigue would hit in waves, but it seemed to hit me all at once on Sunday or Monday (18th or 19th). I had to lie down mid-day and sleep for a few hours. After that, it got better.
COVID is a funny thing. It hit some people worse than others and it defied any semblance of logic. I know relatively young and healthy people who got their ass kicked by it and others, like me, who are older and seemingly in poor shape and skated through it. In my defense, I tend to eat right and exercise on occasion. I’m not a complete and total slug. Well, prior to COVID, at least.
Unfortunately, my bout with COVID preceded a series of unfortunate events that ultimately led to me staying in Vegas for Christmas. Though my COVID diagnosis was a concern, I missed the family Christmas this year due mostly to bad weather. Snowmageddon 2022 forced my flight home to be canceled. Attempts to re-book on other airlines were pushing me farther and farther from my final destination. Add to that the pending bad weather (and icy road conditions) and I felt I was taking unnecessary risks that could potentially lead to meeting my Final Destination on an icy Michigan highway. No, thank you.
So, I stayed home and went to a casino on Christmas Eve. That turned out to be a good night for me.
This was Royal Flush No. 33 (and my fifth of the year).
Once I knew I was stuck in Vegas, I decided I wanted to take a leisurely Christmas Day stroll on the Strip to take in a couple of the holiday displays. Bellagio’s conservatory is always worth a visit. My recollection of Christmas Day on the Strip from my one-and-only time working in a casino left me believing it would be quiet, sparse and casual. Boy, was I wrong.
I should’ve aborted the mission the moment I got close to Las Vegas Boulevard in my vehicle. It was a zoo. An absolute zoo. I parked at Encore (where I used to work), where it was PACKED! I walked from there to Wynn through a crowded shopping promenade; crowded with families and children and people everywhere. It was insane. INSANE! But I plowed forth, intent on snapping photos of holiday displays as I trekked the Strip. The only photos I took were at the Wynn because I got as far as Palazzo and said, “enough!” It was just too much to bear. I wasn’t prepared for it. So I turned around, walked back to the Encore and drove home. Just too much.
Since when did Christmas on the Strip become a family affair? I’m not talking about non-observant types, either. I’m talking about families with little kids wearing little, Christmas outfits. They were everywhere. I’ve never seen so many strollers at the Wynn in all my life. It was not pleasant. Perhaps Circa has spoiled me, given they don’t allow anyone under 21 through the doors.
So, that’s how I spent the last couple weeks. I had COVID. I hit a Royal Flush. And I visited the Strip for the first time in a long time…and probably the last time for awhile. The Strip just doesn’t have the same allure for me as it used to. That makes me sad.
Sorry to end on such a downer note, but that’s where we are. I blame COVID.
I can’t speak for any other Survivor fans out there, but this season has been nothing but frustrating for me to watch. There are several highly skilled players distinguishing themselves almost immediately: Shan, Evvie, Naseer and Deshawn come to mind. And then you have a glut of players who understand the game, but insist on doing the dumb things. I’m looking at you, Xander…and the recently departed Brad, J.D. and now Genie.
For the life of me, I will never understand why anyone who finds a hidden advantage or immunity idol would immediately find the nearest competitor and blab to them. Brad and J.D. have only themselves to blame for getting their torches snuffed. And Genie was a dead woman walking as soon as those dominoes began to fall. Her fate was sealed when Brad went home. For one, brief moment a week ago, Genie saw the writing on the wall—that Shan and her little minion Ricard (and he is just a minion)—and tried to sway J.D. into an alliance to break up that duo.
Unfortunately, J.D. was completely hypnotized by Shan. As Ua made its way to YET ANOTHER Tribal Council, it was nearly a foregone conclusion. Sure, there was a lot of drama about the vote, but it appears to me more theater than genuine consternation. Ricard and Shan were unbreakable. The million dollar question remains: will that decision cost one of them down the line?
To her credit, Shan is playing a masterful game (hence the so-called ‘winner’s edit’ she’s getting from show producers). By building a relationship with Lianna on their trek to Risk vs. Reward, she’s setting herself up for a deep run. That being said, Ricard better work fast in the next phase of the game because he is already falling down the pecking order on Shan’s depth chart. She will cut his throat the first chance she gets. He’s the one who screwed up this week. Ricard had a chance to take Shan out and blew it. He will regret that mistake.
The Yase tribe…ehhhhh, I’m not sure about any of them. Evvie is clearly a sharp strategist in the game, but I can’t help but wonder if she’ll sacrifice individual gains in the name of pushing an all-women alliance to the end. This is where I struggle with players who think Survivor is about making a social statement. Sure, I get it. Whatever motivates you, I suppose. But don’t let that narrative overtake your strategy…unless you are fine with coughing up the million bucks, so long as a woman wins in the end. Selfless? You bet. Smart? Well…
Meanwhile, over at the Luvu (blue) tribe, all the dudes are setting their sights on Erika the first chance they get. It’s too soon to tell if she overplayed her hand or not last week, but it’s not looking good, Erika!
The triumvirate of Danny, Deshawn and Naseer would be a force however, they remain undefeated (well, at least they haven’t come in last) in challenges and have yet to experience Tribal Council. This brings up a point I’ve been wanting to make about playing the individual game too early. Sure, the Ua power duo has successfully eliminated players they deemed as individual threats, but will it cost them in the long run? Players seem to get impatient and start making Day 22 moves on Day 2. Sure, the name of the game is one person wins the money, not a team. But You’re putting yourself in a risky spot if you don’t get to the merge with numbers. Or are you? Let’s not forget that the smaller tribes that enter the merge suddenly become valuable votes to settle the larger tribe’s power struggle. I digress.
Survivor Employee of the Week Naseer. First, he’s fun to watch play the game. He’s in it to win it and has proven himself to be a critical asset in challenges. Add to that an activated immunity idol—that he very smartly didn’t share with anyone!—and Naseer had a good week. Here’s to hoping he backs it up with a smart social game.
Favored to Win For the moment, it’s Shan + everyone else. Perhaps it’s an unfair assessment, since we really haven’t seen the other players have to navigate Tribal Council as much. But Shan’s the favorite.
Who’s Voted Out Next Xander. Seems like a physical threat, but his social game has already been exposed. He gone.
During my visit to the 9/11 Memorial in New York City last week, I made a point to walk the perimeter around both memorials; to at least read all the victim’s names etched in the bronze parapets that surround the bottomless, memorial pools in the center of each site.
There is no deep reason I took a photo of this woman’s name—Colleen Ann Barkow. I was simply snapping images of the memorial when I noticed someone had placed a tiny, little flower in her name. Later I would notice even more of these little flowers in addition to actual flowers and a memorial wreath. But this was among the first I’d seen, so I wanted to capture an image of it to share later. It served as a fitting depiction of the personal and moving nature of the 9/11 Memorial.
Soon after, I began to feel if I planned to share this image, I owe it to her and her family to at least learn more about the person than just her name. After all, on a day when we spend time talking to one another about where we were when the attacks unfolding—which is totally appropriate, by the way—I thought it was also appropriate to pay respects to someone who died that day. So I read a little bit about Colleen’s life.
Colleen was born March 13, 1975 in Rahway, New Jersey. Her parents, Tom and JoAnn, brought her home from the hospital on St. Patrick’s Day.
She was a facilities project manager for Cantor Fitzgerald on the 103rd floor of the World Trade Center’s North Tower. She built things. In fact, she and her husband of less than a year, Daniel, were preparing to move into a home in the Poconos they designed and built. Though, her husband would say she was the “driving force” behind it. They were excited about the new chapter they were writing together. Her friends and co-workers described her as “genuine and uninhibited” and she was close with her step-daughters, Crystal and Kayla.
Colleen’s remains were discovered on Sept. 17, which would’ve been her first wedding anniversary. She was 26 years old. Her brother Daryl would later name one of his daughters after her.
I read this thread on Facebook today and it got me to thinking. But first, the person who wrote this series of tweets hits it on the screws when it comes to guns and men’s one-dimensional thinking toward “protecting my family.” Some of that can be forgiven, as men are rather simple creatures (we really are). When we perceive threats, we imagine it to be some big, scary monster than must be slain before harming our children.
The reality is those scary monsters like Grendel or Slenderman do not exist. The actual threats are much subtler and scarier. We all think of pedophiles as some creeper in a rusty blue van, trolling the neighborhood to abscond with unsuspecting children to their basement sex lair. The reality: it’s the baseball coach, the friendly teacher, the likable priest or a relative you adore.
In those cases, as with most others, a gun in your waistband isn’t going to save you or anyone else.
I’ve pointed out numerous times to overzealous gun nuts (there is a distinction between gun nuts and gun owners, by the way) how carrying a gun everywhere you go does absolutely nothing to make you safer.
Case in point: there was a shooting here in Las Vegas a few years ago. Two people walked up to two cops in a restaurant having lunch and shot them both in the head, killing them. The assailants then fled to a nearby Walmart. As the store was evacuated, a local man carrying a gun decided on his own to respond. He wasn’t in danger, but he felt he should act. He was shot and killed because he didn’t realize there were two assailants, instead of one.
Three people—all carrying guns (legally) and, I’m assuming well trained in how to shoot and handle those guns—were shot and killed. All three of those deaths were senseless and tragic. However, the idea that a “good guy with a gun” can save the say is a garbage myth pushed by the NRA for one reason and one reason alone: to sell more guns.
I am not against gun ownership. I am, however, against treating guns with religious zealousness; as though the Second Amendment (or any amendment, honestly) was handed down from the good God above. No law written by man 250 years ago or 250 days ago is too sacrosanct for redress. We do it all the time. We need to do it again.
We need to revisit our conversation about gun culture in the one country where gun deaths happen at ridiculous rates. I’m not even talking about mass shootings. I’m talking about the murder-suicides, the domestic violence, the spate of shootings in Indianapolis, the road rage-turned-deadly cases, etc.
And kindly spare me the nonsense about defeating a tyrannical government. You’re not Patrick Henry. You’re a guy named Chad who lives in Oklahoma and has been fed a steady diet of anger and ignorance from all that AM talk radio you listen to. Also, all those clowns who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6 should thank their lucky stars the U.S. government and Capitol Police exercised restraint on your dumb, country asses. They have big tanks and bigger guns than you have. Your wholly un-American attempt at insurrection doesn’t make you a great patriot. It makes you a traitor and a moron. Please, enough with that garbage.
The uncomfortable truth is we need to make some hard choices moving forward to curb gun violence in the U.S. That can’t happen with new laws alone, but we sure as hell can start by removing high-capacity, military-style weaponry from the consumer market. If you want to shoot a gun that makes you look and feel like a soldier, I have an idea for you: join the army.
The rest of civilized society would like to be able to walk to and from freely without having to size up every passerby if they’re friend or foe. We’d like to not see our schools, government buildings and other public spaces not turn into de facto prisons with fencing, metal detectors and armed guards everywhere.
The answer is less guns, not more. That has always been the answer to a peaceful society. You’re just too scared to realize it. As a result, Mr. Gun Nut, guess what: you are now the scary monster.
Thirteen years ago today I posted this video to my YouTube channel; probably around 2 or 3 a.m. on the 12th. The antics took place the night before, during the Summit League Men’s Basketball Tournament Championship Game. Well past midnight, after the Oral Roberts University Golden Eagles defeated my IUPUI Jaguars (for whom I was working in a side hustle at the time), I and several of the IUPUI athletics department staff salted away the agony of defeat with late-night beers in the conference hospitality room at our hotel.
During that not-so-happy hour I showed this video to a couple assistant coaches. They got a laugh out of it, so I figured there was no harm in putting it on the Internet. I went to my hotel room, completed a makeshift edit, posted the video to YouTube and grabbed a couple hours of sleep before my early-morning flight home.
It wasn’t until I landed in Memphis for my layover that I looked at my blog. Yes, my blog. I didn’t even look at YouTube yet. I’d been keeping a blog from the tournament and had, to this point, received a little bit of traffic over the previous couple days; maybe 30 or 40 hits, I’d say. When I was sitting at Memphis International Airport, my overnight hits were at 120. Hey. That was A LOT for me! Turns out the local newspaper in Tulsa posted the video in a story about the game.
Exhausted from the long travel day, I went straight to bed once I got home. I woke up the next morning to an email from IUPUI’s sports information director, telling me the video made its rounds in the AD offices. It was up to about 40,000 hits or so after the first 24 hours. Over the next day or so, this YouTube clip played on local TV, ESPN, MSNBC and who knows where else and the YouTube hits kept coming. To date, it’s logged more than half a million hits.
My immediate reaction to all the attention? Concern. I was genuinely worried the video might embarrass the IUPUI athletics department. Sure, it was exhilarating to “go viral,” but at the expense of the university? They’d always been good to me and I felt I might have put myself in a jackpot here. Turns out they weren’t too bothered by it, so all was good and I could enjoy this 15 minutes of cyber fame.
I don’t remember when the producer phone calls started, but it was fairly soon after it happened; summer, maybe? Television producers began ringing me up on my YouTube channel, eager to broadcast the actual footage I shot in their various, cable television shows. We’re not talking 60 Minutes here, mind you. These were truly craptacular, low-budget programs that fall in the “world’s craziest [FILL IN THE BLANK]” genre. But they were willing to throw money at me to use my actual video, rather than the YouTube feed, so I was totally down!
Several licensing requests trickled in over the years. I even received one two years ago from an Australian television producer who wanted to air the video. Alas, I missed that call, but none prior. Though I never actually tallied it up, I received a decent amount of money in licensing fees. Not enough where I could retire early, but it wasn’t pocket change either. Let’s just say those producers kept me in beer money for a a couple years. From where I’m sitting, that’s pretty awesome, considering I never in a million years thought I’d go to Tulsa for a few days and come home to producers writing me checks.
My best case scenario was a few local yokels in Tulsa would pick it up, post it on a local news website or two, have a good laugh and move on. I arrived at that scenario due to a few said yokels chirping at me on a tourney blog I was keeping in March 2008. Who was chirping at me? Oral Roberts University cheerleaders, of all people. I wrote a pithy blog entry, critical of their lack of sportsmanship during a game against IPFW (home of the Mastadons) and they did not like that. How they found that blog is a great question, but whatever. Those cheerleaders were jerky poopyheads and deserved to get called out. I digress.
You have to bear in mind all this was was before Facebook was much of a thing. Sure, Facebook existed, but not entirely to the public just yet. People weren’t connected via social media the way they are today. I’m not even sure social media was even a term we used yet. Twitter existed, but it had fewer than 5 million users at the end of 2008, compared to 69 million in the U.S. today. And Twitter certainly wasn’t embedded into the social consciousness in 2008 like it is today.
Facebook and Twitter weren’t gigantic megaphones blasting out your every selfie, hot take or video. There were no gigantic, social media megaphones. Not to mention, most everyone in 2008 was still carrying around flip phones in their pockets. I shot this brawl with a Sony digital videotape camcorder that I had to rip to my iBook before editing and posting.
When I posted the video to YouTube, I didn’t think anyone would pay attention because ESPN broadcast the game over its air that night. That was the biggest megaphone in the room. I assumed their cameras captured the mascot brawl during a timeout. Sitting courtside as it unfold, I figured they’d come out of the break and roll the footage while Brad Nessler threw a “you’re not going to believe what just happened” platitude over top of it. Apparently, that never happened. They never even mentioned it.
It’s also worth pointing I wasn’t the only one rolling tape on the brawl. A videographer who worked for IUPUI at the time shot what I consider to be the best footage of the fight. I only captured the tail end of it. And it’s poorly shot, I might add. In fact, my video may have never existed were it not for an IUPUI AD staffer seated next to me admonishing of me for just sitting there, courtside, mouth agape, watching two big, foam-headed mascots brawling.
“You have a video camera right there” he shouted. “Why in God’s name are you not filming?!?!”
He was right. I was so stunned by what I was watching play out about 20 feet away from me that I completely forgot to record it…until the last few seconds. However, those last few seconds will live in infamy.. They also capture a pretty sweet takedown of Eli the Eagle by Jawz the Jaguar. Nevertheless, the IUPUI guy’s video is much better. But there’s one reason his video garnered a fraction of the hits mine received: it wasn’t first.
Back then, recording a bizarre public encounter was like finding a precious metal buried in the sand on the beach. It just didn’t happen every day. Today, everyone has a handheld device that can capture video and get beamed up to the internet in seconds; or live, even. If that mascot brawl happened today, no less than 100 videos would’ve been tweeted within 60 seconds. And 2/3 of them would’ve been shot vertically, which makes me die a little, each and every time.
If there’s a moral to this story it’s this: turn the phone sideways before you hit ‘record’. You’ll thank me later.
This was a big one for me. Though not the first time I’d seen Willie live, this one was special because I took my mother to this concert. My dad was a lifelong Willie Nelson fan. Sadly, he died in 2000, having never gotten to see Willie perform live. It’s one of those things that always bummed me out.
When Willie announced his residency at the Venetian, I felt this was an opportunity to see him again, but also bring my mother along. She’d never seen him live before either, so these tickets were a birthday present the previous November. I think I said something like, “you have to see Willie at least once.”
The night of the concert, we took our seats about 12 rows from the stage. A giant Texas flag served as the backdrop of this sparsely adorned stage. Nearly right on time, Willie (and Family!) took the stage and promptly opened with Whiskey River. Though not as raucous a crowd as, say, a honkytonk show—Willie was 83 at the time, after all—it was nevertheless fun. With little fanfare or small talk, Willie ripped through a brisk 80-minute set of his hits as well as a handful of country standards.
Early in the set, Willie played Funny How Time Slips Away which kinda got Mom a little emotional. I expected that and felt the same way. I can’t listen to Willie without thinking about my dad. Same goes for Mom, I’m sure. It was a bit of a cathartic moment that, at least for me, took me back to my childhood, when our house was filled with the sounds of Willie’s records playing on the stereo.
On this night, Willie was in good form; still picking that old guitar, Trigger, like he did back in the day. He sang and played with energy, humor and purpose for the entire set. The ‘humor’ part was never more obvious than on Still Not Dead and Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.
And, on this night, it felt a little bit like I spent some time with my dad.
Setlist:
Whiskey River
Still Is Still Moving to Me
Beer for My Horses
Funny How Time Slips Away
Crazy
Night Life
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground
Me and Paul
Good Hearted Woman
Georgia (On My Mind)
You Were Always on My Mind
On the Road Again
It’s All Going to Pot
Still Not Dead
Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys
Headliner: John Mellencamp (No opening act) Date: Sunday, 2 February 1992 Venue: Market Square Arena City: Indianapolis, Indiana
Today’s #OnThisDate is a pretty easy one, since I’ve already written about it at length. Twenty-nine years ago today, I went to my first John Mellencamp concert. Though not even four years since graduating high school, my life had already changed quite a bit:
I moved from Bay City to South Bend, Indiana
I was in college
I even had a girrrrrlfriend! (shocking, I know)
This concert in particular represents change, too. Throughout high school, majority of my concert attendance was at one venue: Wendler Arena in Saginaw, Michigan. They were heavy metal concerts and it was always Ricky and I (and possibly one or two other ride-alongs). But it was always the two of us, banging our heads.
Now? I’m driving my my car—with that girlfriend in the passenger seat—three hours south to the big city to see a rock n’ roll show! Only this time, it wasn’t a hair metal band. It was Mellencamp: a guy who screamed Indiana in every way. Though easily forgotten, he was one of the biggest stars in the 80s. This show in ’92, on the Whenever We Wanted Tour, represented something of a comeback for Mellencamp after a hiatus to paint…or something.
Though not my first time at Market Square Arena—I’d been there for a couple Indiana Pacers games a year or so prior—it was my first concert at that venue. How was it?
This show blew me right the hell away, too. Mellencamp was on fire on this night; part of a multi-night, sold-out stint at the venerable MSA. My seats were behind the stage, but it didn’t matter. Still a great show. It opened with Kenny Aronoff destroying a drum solo that bled into Love and Happiness.
Other highlights from the night included an angry Pop Singer, a killer rendition of Paper in Fire and, of course, Pink Houses.
In that previous blog entry, I said it was a perfect day. It really was. It’s funny to reflect on it now, though, because I never really paid much attention to the transition from teen-aged headbanger to a “date night” guy at a concert. It’s worth pointing out those “date night” concerts are few and far between. 🙂
Headliner: Def Leppard Opener: Tesla Date:Monday, 1 February 1988 Venue: Wendler Arena (Saginaw Civic Center) City: Saginaw, Michigan
For those who either weren’t around, don’t remember or don’t care, this was right about the time Def Leppard was going from a popular “heavy metal” band (they weren’t heavy metal, but it was to non-metal heads) to super-duper stardom. Hysteria was a decent album; had quite a few radio friendly hits that everyone was beginning to recognize. So this show wasn’t just the typical, mullet-headed, denim jacket-wearing stoner crowd we were used to at the Ozzy, Priest or KISS shows. This was way more mainstream.
This is not from my show, but it’s from the Hysteria Tour. In the round…in your face.
Going in, we knew this was going to be a different show than our typical concerts. Unlike most acts at the time, Def Leppard concocted an in-the-round stage experience for its Hysteria Tour. Our seats—which was sort of new to me, since I normally milled around on the festival floor at Wendler Arena shows—were at a decent vantage point for a stage placed at center ice.
Tesla, the opening act, played a high-energy set atop a relatively flat, barren, black stage with little fanfare. Nevertheless, they definitely had the audience revved up. I remember two girls down front of me working very hard to get the bass player’s attention, which they received and were giddy for the next few minutes.
Once Tesla’s set was over, a brief lull gave way to a slow, rolling wave of excitement. That excitement shifted into a high gear right about the time long, black curtains dropped all around the stage, displaying the Hysteria album cover. The place roared.
My buddy Pat, a huge Def Leppard fan, had already seen them in Detroit in November. I remember him telling me the last thing played over the PA before their set began was Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry “you feel lucky, punk?” speech. As that line was playing, the lights went down, the crowd roared even louder.
“I said welcome to my showwwwww!” Joe Elliott belted out from behind the curtains. Band is jumping in, lights are bouncing all over the place. The curtain drops. Fans are going bonkers! Give them credit: Def Leppard definitely knew how to sell that moment.
There was an element of curiosity about this show for most fans. It would be our first in-person glimpse at drummer Rick Allen, performing in concert on his first tour after losing an arm in a 1984 New Year’s Eve car accident. It made him a little bit of a spectacle and the star of the show, whether he wanted to be or not.
For me, there were about three high points of the whole night: Photograph, Bringin’ on the Heartbreak—which started as an acoustic, then was BELTED OUT by the rest of the band, beginning with the solo—and Hysteria. That last one surprised me. I wasn’t crazy about the title track when I bought the album. After hearing it performed live, though, it’s become one of my favorite Leppard songs.
I attended the show with my best friends from high school; five of us, in total: Matt, Pat, and Ricky…along with a cousin of Pat, I believe, who had a fake ID. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit we had some beers before we went to the show. But rest easy! Pat was our designated driver. All I know is I really had to pee by the time we got to the concert!
We were a bunch of teenage boys, doing teenage boy things on a school night in mid-Michigan. At different points during the concert, I caught glimpses of everyone in their respective moments, enjoying the show. Even Matt, who was more of a U2 and INXS guy than a Def Leppard guy, was having fun.
Even back then, I knew it was a special night. I never really imagined it would be one of the last times all of us hung out together. Funny how that goes, eh? That’s just life, I guess.
writing. photography. tomfoolery. 