This is what we need in music.

I swore off the NBA. It was an unmitigated time suck, TV crack, once you stated watching the playoffs you couldn’t tune out. I spent months in the nineties watching Michael Jordan, after wasting way too much time viewing the shenanigans of Magic and Bird before that.

But Jordan was the best player of all time. Oh, you can argue for Cousy or Bill Russell, but the truth was when he was gone it was said we’d never see his likes again, someone so talented, who could single-handedly win the game.

And we didn’t. We got big men, dominant forces, veritable freaks, like the lovable Shaq. And incredible players with great movement and intense shooting skills like Kobe. And then the apotheosis, a hybrid of it all, LeBron James, who was big but could play small. The NBA was bigger business than ever. Yet I rarely watched.

But then came Steph Curry.

Like all movements I came to it late. You hear about things long before you check them out. I noticed last year’s NBA championship, eclipsing LeBron’s Cavs, snatching victory from the mouth of defeat.

But then there was that night a few months back. When Curry hit so many three-pointers that it became a viral sensation. People’s minds were blown. But unlike giveaways, Oprah deeding cars on television, Curry had earned the accolades.

WHO WAS THIS GUY?

Yes, Butch asked Sundance this question way back when. Or maybe it was the other way around. All I know is that phrase entered the culture, that’s what art did way back when, it dominated the discourse. Our heroes were those who uttered the words of liberal arts creators, whose rep has been decimated in this STEM/money-dominated world.

And then comes this veritable shrimp from Davidson College to light up the NBA? Aren’t you supposed to be overhyped, leave school after the Final Four, sign a big contract and burn your identity into our consciousness whilst selling us crap all along the way?

Davidson is a liberal arts college of 1900 in North Carolina, far from the vaunted Stanford which the techies attend. But all those Silicon Valley acolytes are paying fealty to Steph Curry and his Warriors today, all because of the three point shot.

STEPH CURRY REINVENTED THE GAME!

He didn’t change the rules, he didn’t bitch and moan that the odds were stacked against him. He just took advantage of the notes that were in evidence. The three point perimeter has been in existence for decades. But rather than lauding those who attempted shots from there we decried their low completion rate, we wanted players to drive to the basket, to get close, that’s what every coach preached.

But not Steve Kerr and his Warriors.

They win from outside.

It’s incredible to watch. The ball arcs in an a parabola and then SWISH! Three points make a difference. A run of them put OKC to bed.

That’s why I started watching. Because the Warriors were down 3-1. Could the team owning the NBA’s regular season record get blown out, in this conference final?

NO! Because once Curry turned it on, the Thunder were doomed.

It was thrilling. It brought me back to sports. I no longer felt that I’d seen it all. This veritable pipsqueak, eating his mouth guard like a two year old playing with his pacifier, was putting the opponents to bed. Along with Klay Thompson and Draymond Green and… It was a team effort.

But the three point shot made the difference.

This is what the Beatles were. Something the same yet wholly different. Something honed off the radar screen that emerged fully-formed to blow our minds. The antithesis of the television competition shows. The usual suspects abhorred it, but the little girls understood.

And then we had the hip-hop breakthrough.

But that was decades ago.

So we’re looking for something different. Something made perfect in plain sight that we’re unaware of. Especially in this internet age when almost nothing gets traction.

And Curry didn’t make it through hype. Sure, he played in the NBA, but virality put him over the top.

You know how hard it is to make it? Almost impossible. When you’re broke in music know that the system isn’t rigged, it just doesn’t need that many players. But we do need winners. And to gain attention they have to be different, they have to reinvent the game.

And the music game hasn’t been reinvented in eons. Metallica still rules metal and Jay Z and Kanye are still the kings of hip-hop and everything on Top Forty sounds the same.

Not that being different is enough. You have to be EXCELLENT!

Every time Steph Curry fires from way downtown you get butterflies. It’s way too much risk, the defender is in his way… But when he sinks ’em, like last night, you gain this happiness that spreads throughout your entire body, you feel life is worth living.

Like I said, I gave up on basketball twenty years ago, kept it at arm’s length, it wasn’t worth the time, there were other things I wanted to accomplish.

But then Steph Curry came along and reinvented it all, when I thought the game was moribund.

I’m waiting for the same thing to happen in music.

P.S. There’s a story in today’s WSJ:

Under Armour’s New Steph Curry ‘Chef’ Shoe Gets Cooked

how Curry’s new Under Armour shoe is a dud, it’s too basic, too obvious, it looks like something from the pre-Jordan era, it’s generic. But notice Curry’s not signed to Nike, the behemoth. And his shoe is cheaper than LeBron’s. Today’s basketball kicks are for anything but playing, it’s all about fashion. But that’s not what Curry is selling. I want a pair.

I had shoulder surgery.

I really didn’t believe it when they told me I’d torn my rotator cuff. Can one get messed up that easily, just by falling on the ice?

Guess you can. Hell, the doctor that cut me said I must have fallen violently, my shoulder was “all messed up.”

But I come from that school where if you just hang in there you can achieve the desired result. The waiting might be the hardest part, but those who do reap the rewards. Although not with rotator cuff tendons, they never grow back.

Surgeon number one told me I had to be cut within two weeks. Only one problem, he was going on the road for a month.

So he insisted I see surgeon number two, who I’d never heard of, whereas number one is world famous, he did Felice’s ACL, he’s done most of the star athletes you’re familiar with.

But surgeon number two dissuaded me. Said I might die on the operating table, that I was so old results might not be good. To do PT and come back in a month.

Shocking, I know.

So I went to surgeon number three, and I know this sounds like overkill, but if surgeon number one had been available I wouldn’t have even checked out anybody else, wouldn’t have even gotten a second opinion, he’s the man.

Surgeon number two erased my appointment from the calendar but ended up being able to see me anyway. He said the same thing as surgeon number two, to try PT, and that I could wait up to a  year to do the surgery.

Hmm, a consensus. Sounds good. I’ll go with that. Except I’ve got massive biceps pain and I have trouble sleeping at night.

So I ended up keeping my appointment with surgeon number four. I rationalized it. Saying really, I’d only be seeing two surgeons of my choice. And Val Garay testified and Paterno had good results with him and his partner had reconstructed Dr. Dre’s arm, so what the hell.

But I felt might guilty, let me tell you, as I was sitting in the waiting room named “Skiing,” literally, this operation is a factory.

And the tech loaded the MRI. And then asked me if I had x-rays, which I did, shot back at Snowbird, but wouldn’t they be superfluous if I had an MRI? No. And if there weren’t all three views, we were gonna have to shoot more, which I found patently ridiculous, as I said, I felt guilty even being there.

Then I saw the fellow. I won’t talk to the fellows. Well, I used to not. But then I found at UCLA my hematologist would punch the clock with me if I didn’t tell my story first to the newbie.

So this thirty year old fellow looks at the film, demonstrates on a model, and tells me I need surgery.

My heart started to sink. My brain started to go numb. He wasn’t equivocal, but said we’d wait to see what surgeon number four had to say.

That I was totally messed up. You see the rotator cuff tendon everybody’s talking about? It’s got a rounded edge. Yes, I could see that on the MRI. That meant it had already been torn previously, not in this injury, because if it’s recent, the tendon is frayed, like this other one over here.

HUH?

That’s right, you’ve got TWO torn rotator cuff tendons.

And what about my biceps?

He said he could fix that, but might have to tack it down at another location.

Hmm…

Surgeon number two said if the biceps tendon was torn more than 30% it was history, he’d just tie it down and forget about it, that never sounded good to me.

And surgeon number three said number two was really an “open shoulder” guy, and everybody said this would be an arthroscopic procedure.

So forget number two, he’s out.

And number three didn’t even see the other torn tendon, so he’s gone too.

But number one?? So much time had passed that maybe he’d be able to do it.

So I leaned upon him.

No, the world famous guy leaned upon him.

But surgeon number one had cold feet. Talked about my leukemia drug, he didn’t want to do it.

So I rolled the dice with surgeon number four.

As for doing it at all… Surgeon number four said what number one did… I wouldn’t be able to ski, unless I did it one-armed. And despite my age, he thought I had thirty years left, why live them with so little functionality?

So, 5/31 was the day.

Oh, I had to go for a pre-op with my internist, who was very helpful, told me to view it as an athletic event, to clear the decks and get in shape.

And I had to go to a pain specialist, because supposedly this operation is horrifically painful but they’d come up with a protocol that would reduce it so much…

And then finally a pre-op with the man himself.

And then the day arrived.

Well, not before I freaked out over the long weekend. You see there was a MAJOR drug interaction between the pain pill and my cancer pill. And I don’t want to DIE!

My internist really came through, he calmed me down, walked me through, said it would be cool, by Tuesday morning I was ready.

To do it at the surgery center, my sleep apnea did not require the operation to be done at St. John’s.

And I thought of requesting the anesthesiologist who’d interviewed me about the sleep apnea, thank god I did not, because I got the bigwig, who’d done Arnold and Reagan, who said he was gonna just put tubes down my nose, whereas the other guy was all about the throat and complications.

I lived.

I know you’re laughing. But they told me to bring  my CPAP machine in case I didn’t wake up in recovery. But I did not need it.

But I did need pain medication. I was at my limit. My shoulder was HURTING!

And it took about 45 mins. for the pills to kick in, and then they scooted me out of there. To Felice’s house, where I sat in the lift chair I’d rented, everybody said you had to sleep in a recliner, and looked at the world through a haze.

But I didn’t feel that bad. The doctor called me. Friends. The business bigwig who was trying to push surgeon number one to do it.

And then the next day I crashed. Had to take the oxycodone just to muddle through. And that pill messes you up for about sixteen hours. You’re functional after about six, but you’re zoned out, and I hate that feeling.

But there was no way I could sleep.

You see you have to lie on your back. With your arm in a sling. And I’m a stomach sleeper and I haven’t gotten a good night of z’s in ten days.

But starting a day or two ago, my senses returned.

After stopping the oxycodone.

You see it’s heavily addictive. They said to employ it. But I had such a hard time getting  off Ativan after years of use. I didn’t want to use the pain pills at all, but I had to. Especially to sleep.

But now it was Saturday night and I couldn’t. Was I in enough pain to rationalize the dope? Not quite. But there ensued one of the worst nights of my life. I did not swallow a pill, but I did see my entire adult life pass through my brain in between hours of staring straight into darkness, awake. I’ve got a pretty strong constitution. But even I succumbed to the Ativan. No wonder we’ve got a major drug problem. Purdue Pharma’s a pusher and the hipsters won’t negate drugs, because substances are cool, don’t you know? Isn’t it interesting everybody’s grieving publicly over Prince’s demise, but when they say it’s due to opiates they’re mum. This is a major problem people.

So now I can be sling-free inside the house. Except at night, when I’ve got to wear it, and outside, when I have to don it too.

But I can’t move my elbow from my side.

And I’m so anxious about messing up. As it is, the doctor said I had soft bones and the Gleevec would impede healing a bit and I don’t want to go through this again.

P.S. The surgeon called the procedure “entertaining.” As in not run of the mill. He made everything anatomically correct, and utilized a bovine patch to help keep the biceps in place and aid healing.

P.P.S. I have to do pendulum and pulley exercises one minute each twenty times a day. That’s right, TWENTY! I keep a record. I’m a dot the “i” and cross the “t” kind of guy.

P.P.P.S. I see the doctor in three weeks. If everything goes according to plan, I can start physical therapy then.

P.P.P.P.S. I should be able to ski next season. But I shouldn’t expect a perfect result. This doc would normally say 90%, but since there were three procedures you multiply, like in statistics in college he said, which I did not take, but I’ll roll along, so we’re really shooting for about a 70% result. And I believe it. I’ve only had one operation that completely achieved its goal.

P.P.P.P.P.S. I missed being on the Howard Stern WrapUp show the day of Steve Miller. I had to pass on being on CNN. I had to cancel going to Electric Daisy and speaking at the Insomniac conference…and those are just the biggies.

P.P.P.P.P.P. As I once read, you can’t be too scared to get healthy. Go to the doctor. Get a second opinion. And know that you do the best you can, but perfection is unattainable.

We’re looking for heroes. We want those who speak the truth to put us atop the pedestal as opposed to themselves. Seers who are unafraid to be politically incorrect, who are willing to not only talk about the rampant income inequality in America, but the drug scourge.

And these are not techies.

It’s over kids. Four companies won the internet and everybody else is screwed. It’s Amazon and Apple, Facebook and Google, along with maybe also-ran Microsoft and newbie Snapchat, who control our digital lives. If you think you can sit in your basement and come up with a new tech idea and become a billionaire independently you’re either dumb or stuck in 2005. The techies have too much power.

And they’re using it against us.

Used to be we were afraid of losing our privacy. But then they came for the news. Gawker just declared bankruptcy, because it cannot compete with the deep pockets of Peter Thiel, a billionaire, so what chances are there for you?

I’ll vote for Hillary, not because I love her, but because I want to make sure the Supreme Court is no longer run by yahoos giving more power to those who have already been given too much under the rubric of “freedom.” And despite the figurehead, the truth is most people are on my side.

The progressives always win in the end. There’s gay marriage and more racial integration than ever before. Not that we don’t have miles to go, but the rank and file believe in equality.

And that no one is on their side.

Other than Elizabeth Warren on the left and…

I’m not sure who on the right.

Warren stood up to the haters. Whilst entertainers perform for oligarchs, Elizabeth keeps whacking the mole, unafraid of the fallout, of retribution.

This is what rock stars did when that profession rained down money.

But you make more as a Fortune 500 CEO than you do as a musician, year after year. And who can believe in overpaid execs like Philippe Dauman, whose solution to a low stock price is to give away the crown jewels. It’d be like a musician selling his catalog, for the short term money, and that’s always a mistake, it’s always about the long run.

And I’m not sure where we’re going in the long run.

But I do know we’re on the same team.

Those on the right are pissed someone stole their jobs, their opportunity. Which is exactly what those on the left are saying. Only those on the right believe it’s bogeymen like immigrants and welfare recipients while those on the left believe the fault lies in corporate interests.

And like I said, the left always wins in the end. Not through argument, but progress.

And we need progress in America right now. We need everyone to believe they have an opportunity to make it to the top via hard work. We need people to see that the problem is not only in Washington, D.C., but Silicon Valley. We’ve transferred our adoration from entertainers to techies and in the process we’ve sacrificed our souls to get free products with no support that we argue with each other upon while those in control whiplash not only our emotional future, but our economic one. You might connect with friends on Facebook, but the truth is it’s the number one news outlet today, far more powerful than any network, cable outlet or other website.

That’s where we are, the rich have gotten richer and we’re busy fighting amongst ourselves while everybody with a platform is kissing ass and sucking at the corporate tit while the same media which got it wrong about Trump says kids no longer view selling out negatively. That’s crap. Perpetrated by the same corporatists who are running roughshod over the economy and stealing our future, on both the left and the right. If you think the Democratic titans put the working man’s interests foremost, you were probably at that Goldman Sachs meeting where Hillary gave her speech. She got paid for influence. But some have to live outside the law, and to do that you’ve got to be honest.

We are at a turning point. And I’m not only talking about the unrest evidenced in the Presidential primaries. Rather, the tech revolution has become calcified the same way classic rock turned into corporate rock in the seventies. There are bands with long hair still cutting records, but no one cares. Today it’s about who you are and what you say, not your brand evidenced all over social media in your dash to become rich and famous.

Yes, once again it’s about the individual, what he or she has to say. Just you wait, you’re gonna see, because the billionaires have taken it too far.

Popping up from the underground will be people unafraid of being in the public eye who will speak their truth, which we resonate with, despite them being pilloried. Everybody wants to be liked, and that’s a false economy, just like your Facebook page where you display no downsides.

No successful musician is now leading. We’ve just got economic stunts.

And the movies are a complete joke.

Television leads, but despite containing great stories, it’s mostly escapism.

No, we’re looking for hard core reality, evidenced in a living, breathing, human being. A Mr. Smith in Washington, a selfless Kanye West. Someone who sells ideas, not sneakers. Who is not about self-glorification, but doing right for others via their leadership.

We remember Martin Luther King, not Bernie Cornfeld.

And they just sold the Playboy mansion.

It’s a new era. One of utter confusion. Upon whose landscape new leaders will emerge.

Because we need them.

My vote doesn’t count. I live in California, one of the last primary states. Clinton is gonna win the nomination, Sanders’s success is mathematically impossible. As for a convention fight… That hasn’t worked out too well in the past.

But I’d be much happier if Bernie was the candidate.

You just can’t trust Hillary. AND I’M A DEMOCRAT!

I don’t like people who view systems as their plaything and ignore rules, and the e-mail server report illustrates that Clinton views herself as above the law, and that’s everything I hate about modern America. You know, the country where there used to be a safety net and if you worked hard you could get ahead. Where we were all seen as equal and you could trust the people in Washington were on your side.

Credibility and character, they’re all that matter to me. In both my personal and business lives. Can you count on someone? Will they be there for you in a pinch? If you base your friendships on entertainment and access, purely fun times, you’re utilizing the wrong criteria. You want people who are compassionate, who won’t abandon you. But once our nation became every man for himself, in the Reagan eighties, the spoils have gone to those who’ve ignored the systems, whether it be financiers or techies. Even worse, those presently in control don’t want to let go. Rather than revolutionize their enterprise, take risks, be exposed to failure, they want to rig the system so they can continue to win. And that’s plain ugly. Because the future outs no matter what. And it’s the people who’ve revolted against high entertainment prices, and it’s the people who are revolutionizing our political system.

Of course Hillary looks good on paper. She’s EXPERIENCED! I don’t want an amateur who’s viewed YouTube clips to perform my surgery and I respect dues, the time someone has put in in pursuit of becoming not only competent, but expert.

Unlike Donald Trump. A know-nothing whipping up support via false promises.

Hillary’s vision is on my side. But there’s little center to it. She’s constantly wavering, testing the wind, and we all know that those who poll, who go to the research, can tell you where we’ve been, but can never tell you where we’re going.

And the fact that an aged Jewish socialist from Vermont can nearly topple the Clinton machine is testimony to how weak her candidacy is, as well as the public’s hunger for change.

You remember the public, right? Those who’ve gotten ever less and have not shared in the spoils of the economic recovery. Even the “New York Times” featured an inane piece how the economy won’t affect the election. HUH? You can point to GDP and unemployment figures all day long, but I don’t feel like I’m getting ahead and neither does everybody else. And politics, like entertainment, is a business of perception. It’s not how many records you sell, it’s how many people THINK you sell! Ditto on tickets, Madonna’s tour of the States was an economic dud, but did one media outlet print that? No, everybody just poured on the accolades, too dumb and inexperienced or too overworked to do the research or wanting access to the Material Girl. That moniker was a joke back then, today it’s the truth.

Material is everything. How did two people who devoted themselves to public service get so damn rich? The Clintons worked their connections and curried favor and are beholden to the same damn people and interests those of us who’ve been kept down abhor. Gimme some truth. There’s none of it with Clinton. She’s smart and educated but sold out.

Which is why I’m predicting Trump will win.

Come on you holier-than-thou liberals attacking the man for being a flailing idiot with insane policies. Don’t you get it, people want CHANGE! On the right AND left! And despite Donald’s policies being beyond questionable, it’s Clinton and her ilk who everybody’s pissed at. The “Inside the Beltway” crowd with no clue how the rest of us live. They think the world is their plaything, and it bugs me to no end.

This election is not about facts, but FEELINGS!

Yes, the fact is Bernie’s platform is based on flawed economics, but he’s gunning for the right solutions, I FEEL he cares about me, I FEEL he’s on my side, not like a benevolent boss but another man in the trenches. And never underestimate that. You don’t want to be in a foxhole with someone who’ll abandon you after you’re shot.

I was playing the odds. I was intellectualizing. It was Hillary’s time. She’s got the most miles under her belt. She’ll appoint a reasonable Supreme Court justice, maybe two or three.

But then I realized the rest of the country didn’t see it my way. That people were pissed and no amount of reasoning could get them to sell their souls for four more years of no progress for the less than rich individual.

Yes, my vote for Bernie is a protest. Against Debbie Wasserman Schultz, who tried to rig the nomination for Hillary. And all the media which ignored Bernie before attacking him. They’re like the record companies, they love the devil they already know.

And if you want to avoid the Trump presidency, if you want Hillary to win because she’s the best of two very bad options, then I ask you to start taking Bernie and Trump seriously. And realize the whole game is in play. And that the world has changed. The right is threatening because voters feel ignored and short-changed. Larry Summers says we need economic stimulus but taxes have a bad name and why is the Republican party beholden to the anti-abortionists and religious zealots when they’re a distinct minority and most people want the ability to choose and a government sans religion.

And I could trace the right’s efforts to control the country via talk radio and Fox News and the Federalist Society, but the truth is the left became complacent too, allowed itself to be tugged to the middle and become beholden to money, representing the underclass, never mind the middle class, poorly.

Pretty screwed up, I know.

But we’re closer to revolution than we were in the sixties. Today it’s not so much about war but opportunity. We’ve got a strongman on the right spewing falsehoods and changing his mind willy-nilly, but one thing he’s doing is giving his constituents hope. And if you think Hillary’s done that, you don’t need it, you’ve already got yours.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But everything the prognosticators have told us is wrong. You can’t trust the data. It’s every man for himself.

And it’s time to stop triangulating and do what’s right, say what’s right, stand up for justice.

And the only person doing that is Bernie.

So I’m for him.

Because you’re either part of the problem or part of the solution.

And when the reckoning comes, I want to be able to look in the mirror and say I did the right thing, that I was honest, that I had credibility, that I had character, that I was a good citizen on the side of the people as opposed to a nitwit or party apparatchik steering this great nation of ours off a cliff.