On Profanity.

I grew up with profanity. I come from a rustic environment, rough and tumble, full of hard characters. Their speech reflected their coarseness. It's hard to exist in that environment for 20 years or more and not have it rub off on you a bit. I'm not excusing it. I still know better, but in a weak moment I still might succumb to a smattering of Potty Mouth.

Profanity communicates weakness and/or ignorance.  Your weakness is a weakness of character, an inability or unwillingness to submit yourself to common laws of decency. Your ignorance may be simple: you don't know any better or weren't taught any better. It may be a more complex ignorance: you don't know how to communicate in any way where profanity is unnecessary or irrelevant.

Profanity may also communicate a coarser, baser nature that's coming out in you. You know it's wrong, taboo or verboten, but you choose to use it anyway. Perhaps you're trying to be cool. Perhaps you're trying to show others that the rules don't apply to you. Maybe it's simply rebellion, which, the last time I read a dictionary, was an act of defiance aimed at an authority or established convention. In this case, it seems to be aimed at both: authority and convention.

The funny thing is that people seem to be trying to communicate toughness when they get Potty Mouth. Unfortunately, they generally miss the mark.

 

The Unkindest Cut of All

(Originally posted 2/11/08)

I've recently experienced one more of too many disappointing interactions with so-called Christian brothers and/or sisters. I'll be sparing the details, mostly to protect the guilty. Suffice to say that this event provided more material to people who already take every opportunity to think poorly of me. Never mind that it was founded on falsehood, spread abroad by undisciplined, wagging tongues.

Rumors and gossip. Half-truths and whole lies. Misunderstandings and sour grapes. One expects these things outside of the Kingdom, but insiders should expect better. We are, after all, a chosen people. We should be emulating our King. We should be setting ourselves apart. There's a song whose chorus contains these words: "They will know we are Christians by our love." I guess that some just prefer to hide in the shadows and remain unknown.

Shakespeare undoubtedly envisioned a version of this, albeit a probable secular one, when he wrote these words:

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart. . . .

How, pray tell, can we as believers, in good conscience, be so thoughtless and cold as to betray a brother? How can we hate our own blood that much? There is plenty in this world to hate, all of it more deserving of our venom. There are causes a-plenty that need zeal and passion to move them along. Why the do we waste our indignation on those most deserving of our compassion and our forbearance?

Well, in some ways the answer is obvious. We in the light still bear a dark side. Some of us spend more time as Dr. Jekyll, others as Mr. Hyde. For some, the doctor rarely makes an appearance anymore. We all have this dualism. The apostle Paul wrote:

So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Did you hear the good news? We have been rescued. We have been set free. Our liberator has cut loose the rotting corpse which had been lashed to us. So what are you waiting for? You prefer bondage to freedom? You say you don't mind the burden of that stinking, rotting corpse you carry around?

Step outside your cell, people! The door is unlocked, open. Leave your friend inside when you come out.

Oh, and close the door behind you.

My Fickle Fancy

(Originally posted 1/20/2008)

Concerning bass guitars, my loves have been all over the place. In some way, those guitars I've once loved, I still do love to a degree. The position that is foremost in my affections changes occupants from time to time. There's been the Music Man Bongo five-string (thus my username), the Music Man Sting Ray five-string (with double humbucker), and most recently, the Lakland 55-01 or 55-94.

I feel myself coming back to the standards. My present love is the Fender Jazz bass, preferably black with a maple fingerboard (concerning guitars, looks are important). My infatuation with five-string guitars is waning, and I've never felt an affection for a four string that could eclipse the Jazz bass. Now some of the Lakland Jazz bass copies (as the Joe Osborne in this picture on the bottom) are mighty fine, too, and are worth considering. However, I feel the American Standard Jazz bass is a fine instrument worthy of my limited skills.

Of course, the discussions of the merits of all these guitars is academic, as I will probably never own all of them. It's fun to speculate though, and my desires are fickle ones which will most likely be love from a distance. But, I've been able to play many guitars over the course of the years that would only have been possible within the confines of a Guitar Center showroom or the less-limited confines of my dream-state. So, no one really knows the value of lofty dreams.

The Bass and I: The Reformation

When I decided to rebuild my guitar, I made a list of what I wanted to do and the parts I wanted to buy. I finally got a windfall that would finance the venture, so I ordered my parts from www.basspartsresource.com, your one stop shop for guitar and bass parts. Here's what I ordered:

(1) - Hipshot Type-A 4-string bass bridge (brass, not aluminum)

(1) - Seymour Duncan Basslines SPB-3 Quarter Pound P-Bass Pickup

(1) - Fender OEM Tortoise Pickguard

(2) - Aftermarket metal drum knobs

(1) - Wiring kit (2 pots, a .047 mfd capacitor and cloth-covered vintage wire)

(4) - Chrome string ferrules

(1) - Hipshot string retainer/tree

 

 

 

 

Here's all my parts laid out in the guitar case before the project began in earnest. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to do something different and perhaps humorous to the headstock when I recreated the artwork. I was inspired by Alex Lifeson's "Hentor Sportscaster". I also thought that the usage of the heteronym "bass" was rather witty. I used a Fender graphic that I kyped of the Internet, choosing it for its uniqueness (I haven't seen it used on a guitar before). The fish graphic pays homage to my redneck heritage.

 

 

 

 

 

As you will see here, I've removed the neck, pickguard and electronics, and the bridge. When I removed the bridge, I put a layer of tape on the body, reattached the bridge, and then marked the position of the bridge and also the position of the saddles. I also marked on the tape the placement of the new screw and through-body holes. The cavity was lined with foil tape, as was the back of the pickguard.

 

 

 

 

 

What you see here is the body at the point where the bridge attaches. The new bridge allowed for through-the-body stringing, so I needed to drill the body and install string ferrules. What you see here, from top down is: the hole for the bridge ground wire, the screw holes drilled to attach the new bridge, the old screw holes (filled with putty), and the new holes that go through the body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's the new electronics after I soldered them all up.  Awesome new pickups, heavy-duty pots and wire. The long wire travelling horozontally, trailing off to the right is the bridge ground wire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's the string ferrules after installed. This is the only part of the job I'm dissatisfied with. When drilling, I chipped the paint slightly. I'm trying the top two strings through and the bottom two on the bridge to see how that sounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's the new bridge, installed and strung. This thing is solid brass. I'm totally sold on Hipshot products. This bridge has the look of quality and the feel...Well, I'll just say it was money well spent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's a picture of the completed project. I still like the vintage look of the tortoise and the new look of the bridge and pickups.

 

 

 

 

 

The headstock after I reinstalled the tuners and added the Hipshot string retainer. This was an impulse buy. The original Fender button was probably adequately functional, but I liked the new look the Hipshot would give it. That, plus I didn't want the button crowding my new graphics. You see the screw hole from the original retainer above the Fender graphic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, and a final touch. Not wanting to deceive anyone to this guitar's original heritage, I moved the serial number and location of manufacture to the back, changing it slightly to reflect it's new pedigree.

 

 

 

 

 

The Bass and I: New Beginnings

Since I have owned the Mexican, I have wanted to put some money into it and improve its playability and looks. The only changes I made, between the initial purchase and most recently, were to replace the knobs. It had these cheap, plastic Telecaster knobs. I purchased some chrome, traditional-looking knobs. Of course, countless string changes in search of the perfect string don't count. Let's jump into the pictures.

 

 

This is the Mexican, virtually as it was when I purchased it in 2003. I took this picture right before I started the redo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is how the guitar appeared on the eBay auction (actual image supplied by seller). In the case, you will see the original one-ply pickguard. The owner had upgraded to a three-ply white pearl pickguard, almost as ugly as the original.

 

 

This is the headstock as it originally was. The original logo/text had been silk-screened (methinks) and also included the "Squier" label, making this one an odd bird, having both "Squier" and "Fender" on the headstock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the cheapo bridge on the original. It is the classic Fender design, but seems thinner and cheaper than what's on the American guitars. Definitely needed replacement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pickups on the Mexican also were in need of upgrade. These were of the cheapest variety. I had to repair one of the wires along the way that had broken off.

The Bass and I: Part IV

Starting not too long after my purchase of the Mexican P-Bass and a small practice amplifier, Dale and I began playing together a bit over at my house. We practiced certain songs, usually learning traditional and upbeat versions of some hymns. Dale believed, and I understood, that this would probably be our only options for playing live at first.

We did this, off and on, for several years. At one time, we had an ongoing gig playing at a nursing home on Sunday mornings for a worship service. Not exactly the big time, and pretty embarrassing to recall, but anything helps.

Over these years, Dale purchased back virtually every piece of his old equipment. He had sold it to cousins, friends and others who gladly sold it back to him. We had (and still have) aspirations to grow into something bigger. We agreed at the beginning of our musical association that we would support each others musical ventures. In other words, I would play bass for his projects, he would play guitar for mine.

Dale purchased new equipment, too. He purchased a Rickenbacker 4003 bass guitar, a Fender American Standard Precision Bass, and two different Mesa Boogie bass amplifiers. In a magnanamous gesture, he wanted me to have access to a better instrument. The magnanimity of this gesture is realized when you recall that Dale is a guitar player, not a bass player. He also wanted his brother, another bass player, to have access to an instrument. So, Dale's brother and I shared the gear. Eventually, he took the Rickenbacker and I took the Fender. Dale took my Mexican P-Bass, keeping it in his gear cache for the last few years.

Dale recently decided to divest himself of some of his equipment. He felt that he would never use most of it, so the money could be better used elsewhere. He sold drum kits, stomp boxes, speaker cabinets, amplifiers and one of his guitars. He sold the Mesa Boogie Buster 200 amplifier that had been at my house for the better part of 3 years. He said he was going to sell one of the basses, asking which one I wanted him to keep. 'Keep the Ricky', I said. I then told him that I had wanted to put some money into my Mexican P-Bass for some time because I had no intention of selling it (sentimental reasons, you see). I then explained to him that I had come into a windfall of sorts and would be spending some of it on remodeling my P-Bass.

Within a week or two, Dale brought my old guitar back and took the American P-Bass away. The guitar I had played for the better part of the last 3 years was gone, probably for good. I didn't care, though, as my old, trusted and dear friend, the Mexican, was back home. 'Amigo', I told the Mexican. 'Great things are in store for you. Just you wait and see.'

Well, this brings you almost to the present in my bass guitar saga. I shared the previous four posts with you to prepare for the next one, which is the story of my Mexican P-Bass remodeling project, complete with photos. Enjoy.

The Rarity of a Good Friend

I've never really had a best friend, at least not in the way I perceive the term. I've had lots of good friends, a few really good friends, but no one that I would term as a "best friend." "Best friend" is a mutual term, usually agreeably defined by both parties. What I mean is that you wouldn't want to consider someone your "best friend" if they didn't feel the same way about you. Some folks may not agree with this definition, but it makes perfect sense to me. Now in the strictest sense, I consider my wife my best friend, even to my own stringent definition, but for the sake of this discussion, I'm just considering non-spousal best friends.

I've never had a friend to whom I could feel comfortable confiding everything. I never had a friend that I thought would feel comfortable doing the same with me. I've had friends for whom I would do anything, but there was still always something lacking. I'm left to wonder what's so wrong with me that I don't cultivate friends in this way?

I have friends now that I find myself uncomfortable around at times. We are alike in many ways, but usually very dissimilar in at least one way that seems insurmountable. One friend in particular I'm thinking of is a theology student. He'll be talking to me and to someone else and will break off into an academic discussion on some theological topic which is totally foreign to me. I understand the importance of theology, but I don't have the faculties for being a theologian, namely the willingness to read incessantly. As I sit and listen, I feel stupid. There is nothing to lend to the discussion, so I sit in silence. I think to myself, 'This is an important topic, so I should probably know more about it than I do.' I wonder why it is that I don't want to know more about whatever this topic may be. I'm left with the excuse that a person can't know everything about every topic.

I know a little bit about a lot of different things, but I wouldn't consider myself an expert on anything. "Jack of all trades, master of none" describes me perfectly. I like being that way. It means I'm usually not helpless but can fend for myself in most situations. Those few when I cannot, when I find myself feeling stupid, are probably more a product of my own pride and self-centeredness than of my ignorance.

I seem to have gotten off the topic of friendship...