Ten reasons why California is the greatest state in the Union

That Caifornia is the greatest state in the union is not my opinion. It’s just a fact, Jack…

Ten Reasons why California is the greatest state in the union….

1) We’ve got the coolest flag.

2) We’ve got the coolest governor by far. In fact, Jerry Brown is the coolest governor in the history of the United States.

3) Our state fish is the Golden Trout, the finest species of trout, or any other kind of fish in the world. And stream fishing in the Golden Trout Wilderness is the best there is.

4) Excepting Alaska, California has the most designated Wilderness of any state. More than Idaho, Colorado and Montana combined.

5) California has two of the most dependable liberal senators in the nation. Barbara Boxer gets the highest grade of any US Senator from the League of Conservation Voters and Diane Feinstein is the author of the assault weapons ban.

6) California is ground zero for the spirit of rebellion in the United States. The old Californios rebelled against Mexico about a dozen times and against the United State once. The IWW fought some of it’s greatest free speech battles here and the United Farmworkers Union was born here. Both Joe Hill and Woody Guthrie wrote some of their greatest protest songs here. Berkely. The Black Panthers. La Raza. Occupy Oakland and Occupy Los Angeles.

7) The last Native American to live most of his life with no contact with Western Civilization, Ishi, was born here. And we’re the only state where any Native American tribes made it into the 20th century without being conquered or put on reservations.

8) We’ve got the tallest mountain in the lower 48, the biggest trees, the oldest trees and the lowest valley in America all within 100 miles of each other.

9) The Grateful Dead, brother. All native Californians. Longest touring rock band with all their original members. With a sound system designed by Owsley…

10) First State to pass a Legal Medical Marijuana Initiative. 

11) Sasquatch. Yeah, he’s been seen in other states, but like all true originals, Sasquatch is from the great golden state of California.
— 
“The earth is not dying. She is being murdered. And we know who is killing her and we have their names and addresses.”
Utah Phillips

Busking on Venice Beach Boardwalk

Seems like every time I go down to the Boardwalk, the rules for Buskers have changed.....

This time they have changed for the better, I think. This video is from last year, but I went down today on a truly beautiful February morning, to check out the fallout from the latest attempt to reign in the anarchy of the masses. Now normally I'm all for anarchy, but the Venice Boardwalk scene was getting a little crazy, and I think the new rules are better than the old new rules, or the old old new rules.....

The once a week lottery sucked, for instance. And there was too many rugged capitalists clogging up the people's space selling Chinese crap. The zones were too complicated, too. Now they have banned the sale of manufactured junk, and that opens up more space for artists. That is a good thing, brothers. It's good for all.

Some folks are disgruntled because they're not allowed to camp out all night and hog the good spaces all day. Now it's first come, first served from 9 AM until Sunset. That's fair. I guess they can still hog their spaces all day, but there's more spaces available since the junk merchants have been banned.

For entertainers, no permit is required now. You can choose any of the 250 designated spaces on a first come, first served basis, and reasonable amplification is allowed in all sections. I can live with that. When Summer comes, it might be a good idea to put a time limit on the space hoarders. They're still hogging spaces while sitting there not doing Jack Shit, but the scene is much improved over the chaos that existed there a year ago. It has never ceased to amaze me how people will fight over spaces, and the sit around looking surly and complaining about how little money they're making when they're not even playing. But, oh well, that's America for ya....

On the flip side, the policia have been waging a vicious and uncalled for war against the homeless in this town. That's what the song Easy's Gone is about. Yeah there's a lot of homeless folks on the Boardwalk. They're not criminals. They're us, man. No banker, cop or politician cares if you hit a streak of bad luck and wind up on the street, brother. If you don't think it can happen to you, you haven't been reading the paper, or the sometimes beautiful graffiti on the rest room walls of Venice, California. Police harrassment of homeless citizens is a disgrace and it has to stop.

Don't expect to make a shitload of money busking down here, friends, but expect to learn something about life, meet some good folks, cop a contact high and come away with a new song and maybe even a new chord. It's the Venice Chord, and you have to earn it.....

Notes from the revolution........

I went down to Los Angeles City Hall, with Erin, Saturday and Sunday, to see what the OWS movement was all about. Days eight and nine of the Los Angeles occupation. Took my guitar, of course, wandered around the encampment, talked to people and played some Woody, Pete and Joe Hill songs for folks.

It's a lot bigger and better organized than the media would have you believe. Lots of tents, man, and more people than tents because lots of people come down to support the occupiers, and then go home for the night. You can be part of this thing and lend your support even if you can't afford to camp out for the long haul. It's not like being in jail. You can go down for the day, camp out for the weekend or camp out for the long haul but still leave to go to work or to class, water the flowers or whatever you have to do. But make no mistake, there are a committed core of individuals who are there foe "as long as it takes." It took a lot of guts and requires a huge sacrifice for them to make this commitment, and do you know what they're doing it for? For you, and me, for our country, and for democracy.

It's for the ninety-nine percenters. The ordinary folks who do all the work and create all the wealth of this country while the one percent at the top of the food chain reaps all the profits and uses their wealth to pervert our political process. It's not about left or right, democrat vs. republican, liberals versus conservatives. It's about income equality, economic justice and democracy. It's happening in every state of our nation and at least twenty other countries. The number of US cities to be "occupied" is growing so fast that you can't get a clear count, but it's over 200 so far.

At the LA encampment I saw ordinary Americans governing themselves better than our elected leaders are governing our country. Everything is "working" there and working well. There's a library, a free thrift store, a kitchen serving healthy donated food, a medical tent, a meditation tent, a media center, recycling center, silk screeners, artists, musicians creating a community that is based on cooperation rather than profit taking. They are not "protesting." they are leading by example. What's their demands? What do they want? Go down to City Hall and see for yourself. They'll show you. They're creating a vision right there in that park that can serve as an example of how our whole country could be run. Our country and every country. "Of the people, by the people and FOR the people. It's not a tea party, motherfucker, it's a revolution....

Occupy Los Angeles.

Bailout Blues

I've been working on this song for a couple of weeks. These are trying times we are living through and it's mind blowing to watch our government throwing huge amounts of money at the banks that are foreclosing on people's homes while abandoning the working class that creates the foundation of our economy. A house without a foundation cannot stand no matter how much money you pile up on the roof...

Bailout Blues
Lost Hills

Johnny works construction
When there's work to be had.
He fell behind on his child support,
Now he's a dead beat dad.
They took away his license,
Now he ain't supposed to drive.
Now how's gonna do
What he has to do to survive?

Now he's driving in to Oildale
To pick up his son.
He gets pulled over for a burned out tail light
And his troubles really bugun
Now he's staring at the pavement
As the tow truck hauls his pick-up away.
Johnny needs a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today....

Johnny needs a job
That will pay a living wage.
So he can pay his bills on time
And hold his head up straight.
It ain't his fault no one's buying houses these days.
Johnny needs a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today...

Johnny's ex-wife, Susan,
Has been waitress for years.
Now she's working two jobs,
But they've both cut back her hours.
Both her ex-husbands are out of work
And about out of time.
She's got two beautuful kids
That need more than what she can provide.

Now she's waitin' on Johnny
To come pick up little Joe.
She doesn't know that he's standing
There alone by the side of the road.
And Joe keeps asking,
"How come my Daddy's so late?"
Susan needs a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today....

Susan needs a bailout
in the worst kind of way,
Maybe she should change her name
To A.I.G.
If she had an office on Wall Street
The government would rush to her aid.
Susan needs a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today...

Susan's parents, Bob and Helen,
Have worked hard all their lives.
Well, they never got rich,
But they've done all right.
They were thinking about retiring early,
But that's not to be.
Because everything they've worked for
Has up and blown away.

They had some money with an invester
That turned out to be a fraud.
Bob's pension disappeared
When his company went belly up.
Now they're looking through the want ads
For anything that pays minimum wage.
Bob and Helen need a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today....

Bob and Helen need a bailout
Because they've worked hard all their lives.
They shouldn't have to be flippin' burgers
Or standing in a wellfare line.
And the president's on the radio
Saying, "Everything's gonna be okay!"
Bob and Helen need a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today...

Now Johnny's picking up cans by the roadside
Just to get himself a beer
And Susan's getting letters from the landlord
By certified mail.
Bob and Helen are selling their furniture
Just to help out Sue.
And little Joe's left wondering
What happened to the world he once knew.

America needs a bailout,
But it ain't comin' today.
Ain't no check in the mail,
Ain't no help on the way.
Seven Hundred Billion
To the crooks that put us in this place.
And the president's on the TV
Saying, "Everything's gonna be okay!"

America needs a bailout--
But it ain't comin' today...

Hell, I could use one, Brother--
And I need it today.

Be sure to pause the Soundclick Player before playing the video.

Treehuggers Ball

A great time was had by all at the Treehuggers Ball. It's a green expo and music festival put on by the Canyonlands Conservation Fund and the Orange Hills Task Force of the Sierra Club to raise money to protect the last open space in Orange County from developement.

I was invited to play by my friend Karl, who is a nephew of Woody Guthrie, so of course I played some Woody Guthrie songs. It was held in still wild Baker Canyon, and there were exhibits, demonstrations, arts and crafts, a deep pit barbecue dinner, speakers, and about eight hours of music under the stars. There was a Bluegrass band, a Jazz Trio, a Blues-Rock band, a funky folk singer, and the headliners were Cubensis, a popular and inspiring So-Cal Grateful Dead tribute band.

I was the opening act, so there wasn't a big audience, but I played my originals and some dust bowl ballads for the exhibitors and the arriving treehuggers and I got a good response and met a lot of great people. It was really a special event, and I take my hat off to Chay, Karl, Dennis, Ed, Leslie and all the hard working people who made it possible. I was invited to play again next year, and I'm already looking forward to it.....

http://www.treehuggersball.org/

The video is my version of Woody Guthrie's I Ain't Got No Home. You need to pause the Soundclick player in the upper right hand corner before starting the video.

Highway 58

Highway 58

by Lost Hills

Out in this country all men are Kings

And all the women can drink you under the table.

If you can find one...

The cattle own these hills one roamed ny antelope.

Those fleet and curious beasts were consumed

By the skillets of the Boomers in the valley.

~

Those gold camps and oil towns have vanished too,

Blown away by the winds that never sleep.

But the cattle remain...

Trudging to ancient water troughs,

Propelled by genes that go back to Spain, Africa,

And probably back to the dinosaurs.

~

They once said that all roads lead to Rome,

As if a road was like a river that flows to the sea.

But a road is not a river.

All roads lead to other roads, other trails, other visions,

Other memories...

And to lonely graves, scoured clean by the wind.

~

The coyote jogs down the middle of the road,

Tongue lolling in the morning breeze.

He is a friend of mine. He follows me down all these old roads.

He is more than just a trickster.

He is the totem of the lost and lonely;

The faithful companion of all us weary wanderers...

~

Another windblown cowtown.

Two churches, two bars and a grammar school.

Two paths to redemption, two paths to oblivion,

And one road out of here.

The Rodeo Queen found her own way out.

Married a rock star...

Partied with Belushi on the night he OD'd.

Yeah Baby, let the good times roll,

And there's a horse ranch in the divorce settlement.

Arabians...

~

Out on Huerhuero Creek they made the hippies' last stand

And their poetry still hangs in the breeze.

A well worn trail led up to the garden in the box canyon.

The Marijuanero tending his crop with a shotgun and a water can.

Drawing down on a deer at the salt lick with an old .32 Winchester.

Playing Grateful Dead and Hank Williams to the stoned sunset on a cheap guitar.

If that ain't country...

~

The coyotes hunted peacocks and sang their songs with new colors.

Beauregard running deer from here to Templeton,

Puzzling the coyote with his long drawn swamp dog calls.

When he wore himself out he would sit by the side of the road

Waiting for a kindly neighbor's pick-up truck.

Goddam hitch-hiking dawg....

~

The rivers here run dry,

But the whiskey and the gin will always flow free...

Anna pours her own grave from a rocking chair.

Cowboy Bob crashing through fences in the night,

Sleeping it off on a mattress in the tractor shed.

Gospel music flying through the too bright rays of Sunday morning.

Now where's that truck?

~

The cowboys wear their spurs to bed.

They know their days are numbered,

Counted in cigarettes, beers, cups of coffee and gallons of gasoline.

The indians are not remembered by name.

The places where they camped

Occupied by abandoned diners and watering holes for cattle.

They all became cowboys in the end,

The skulls of their ancestors grinning under glass

In small town museums closed for lack of funding...

~

And then the breeze shifts,

We crest the ridge,

And I behold the waves of the endless sea.

For that is where the road leads on this morning.

At least in my own mind...

And the coyote waits on a hill for my return.

.

The Moon Of The Wild Rose

In the lost universe, the lives of the people followed the seasons.

There was the Moon of making fat,

The Moon of the blooming lillies,

The Moon of the dying grass,

The Moon of the falling leaves,

The Moon of drifting snow,

The Moon of popping trees,

The Moon of strong cold,

The Moon of the buffalo calves,

The Moon when the geese lay eggs,

And the Moon of the Wild Rose...