I made a mistake at Rite-Aid. I bought three ESCs instead of three WRWs.

“What are you talking about?”

I could be the last person on earth still wearing hard contact lenses. I know, I know, I should have gotten with the program and had my eyes done, gone under the knife, but the problem there, in addition to possibly less than perfect results, is that if you’re aged, you still need reading glasses, so what’s the point? Oh, that’s right, you could only have one eye done and then if you’re nearsighted, like I am, it would all work, as a matter of fact you can get one contact for distance and one for reading and supposedly your brain adjusts, but my doctor said if you read a lot, don’t, and I’m reading all day.

And speaking of quality, the truth is hard contacts give you much better vision than soft. But most people are pussies and cannot handle the pain. Whereas we He-Men of the Universe, inoculated back in the sixties, are used to having boulders in our eyes and can tolerate anything, hell, I wore two right lenses for two years, you see I was going to an exam and it was way early and I put one contact on top of the other and lost one in the extraction process and didn’t know which was which and I had to order one via mail, being far from Connecticut in the wilderness of Vermont, and I guessed wrong. And when I asked the ophthalmologist to check the two years later, he said it was impossible, that I’d know, but I didn’t, and I was right.

And the truth is no one really wears hard contacts anymore, you wear GAS PERMEABLES, which are a true breakthrough, because then your eye doesn’t conform as much to the lens itself, you see air passes through and I can see great but…

I’ve got this thing in one eye, it only happens in one eye, where there’s some kind of allergy that clouds the lens. And the traditional solution, now known as Boston, even though way back when I was addicted to the pink bottles of Barnes-Hind, just isn’t strong enough to clean the lenses, or in this case lens, because, as I just stated, it only occurs in one eye.

This is when my genius doctor put me on Lobob, which I used to laugh at in the aisle of the drugstore, whenever I’d see it, which was rare. Lobob had amateurish packaging, it looked like it was cooked up in someone’s garage, but now they’ve got state of the art design, never underestimate logos and artwork, they make a difference, can you say STEVE JOBS?, and Lobob Optimum works great, because it’s so damn STRONG!

I know you don’t care, but if you do, you can take a peek at their page here:

Lobob

And if you do, you’ll find there are three necessary packages, CDS for soaking, WRW for wetting and rewetting, and the hot sauce of contact lens solutions, ESC, the EXTRA STRENGTH CLEANER! You’re only supposed to use it once a week, but with my allergy I need to use it every day, and it solves the problem, but a little dab’ll do ya, and like I said, I made a mistake, I thought I was picking up WRW, which one goes through regularly, and I bought three packages of ESC, and one lasts nearly a year.

Now I could have returned them, if I still had the receipt, but come on, my time is worth something so I didn’t and then last night I decided to do the calculation, whether my bottles were gonna expire before I used them.

So I looked for the expiration date and saw it was 2020!

Not like the TV show, not like Barbara Walters, but as in twenty years after the millennium, HOW DID WE GET HERE?

Talk to a boomer and you’ll find that he or she was always calculating what age they’d be in the year 2000. But we’re past that. And we haven’t decided how to label the new era ever since.

Now, occasionally, people talk about 2000-2009 as the aughts, but during the period almost no one did.

And now that the teens are almost over, I’ve still never ever heard a single person refer to this decade as such, even though when I was growing up we referred to the period from 1910-1919 as the teens. Are we waiting for the twenties, as in ROARING?

Meanwhile, time keeps marching on.

So I’m sitting on a couch on Easter Sunday and we’re trading customs stories. And the dentist tells us he was busted twenty five years ago, and I realized that was 1993! That seems like YESTERDAY! But it’s twenty five years ago.

I remember the teenager, the high school student who lived with her mother across the walkway from my sister on Dorothy Street when I first moved to L.A., she was 16, oh-so-young. But thinking about it now, I realize today she’s 59!!! Eeegads! The teen stars of the eighties, they’re entering menopause. Meanwhile, they keep making new people. They’re just shoving the rest of us down the moving sidewalk of life, until we fall off the end.

And we don’t believe it, but we’re confronted with it. Reach 65 and you feel like you want to retire, because everybody else is, and the game of life is now so much less interesting, you’ve figured it out, realize nothing’s gonna last so you might as well have a good time, assuming you’ve got your health and some cash, which not that many have, at least not both.

So some take social security early. I’m never gonna do that, I don’t want to outlive my money, some friends of my parents did this, they ended up with a reverse mortgage, depending upon their kids, it’s ugly. So do you live for today or live for tomorrow? Do you spend or save?

Meanwhile, no one is stopping the train to ask these questions. The institutions just keep rolling on. Don’t we need a committee to get us all to agree to call this decade the teens? Then again, we couldn’t get everybody to agree to the metric system, which is quite a fail. You’re in a foreign country looking at the speedometer, freaking out, and then you realize it’s in kilometers. As for Celsius, go to Canada enough and you learn you double it and add thirty two, but in a nation where people can’t even name their Representative I doubt they can fathom that, and in the era of calculators no one can do math in their head anyway.

My inbox is filling up with people who don’t like Three Days Grace’s “The Mountain.” I DON’T CARE! THAT WAS NOT WHY I WROTE ABOUT IT! I was making a business point, but these writers are too invested in their own opinions to see the forest for the trees, it’s why despite believing they know everything they’re never gonna triumph in this business, most will be fans dying for backstage access as they boast to their friends with their so-called info no one cares about.

Welcome to the modern era, where those over thirty still think they’re living in the old. Hell, they think people really want to listen to vinyl, NO, IT’S A FETISH! Come on, you’re listening to albums recorded digitally reproduced analog? What next, an electric car that runs on gas? This is why I deplore the educational system, preparing people for careers, they don’t know how to THINK!

Like my piece delineating Zuckerberg’s triumphant performance in the Senate. Hell, the stock went up, but you hate him and his company so much you can’t put that aside and evaluate his appearance. Better yet, you didn’t even watch, you relied on the scuttlebutt, and he or she without information loses in the end. Want to win, pay attention, read. You think you’re winning by posting to social media, spreading your inanity, but the truth is one capture of the zeitgeist based on hard work will send you to the top of the chart.

If the chart means anything anymore.

Are you getting this?

Every week “Billboard” publishes a chart that blends sales and streams and the somnambulant press puppets it as if it counted. No, it only matters if someone listens. Did you check the decline of sales? Through the floor my friend. And sales don’t necessarily indicate demand. As I write this, Elton John’s “Revamp” is #11 on iTunes. Wow, it looks like a success. But then we go to Spotify and find out only two songs have broken a million plays, when there are tracks from albums not even on the iTunes chart that have a huge multiple of this. Hell, the hitmakers of today don’t even RELEASE albums! But you’re invested in them, despite TV series eclipsing movies. What did Marshall McLuhan say, THE MEDIUM IS THE MESSAGE? So rappers are playing with the form, putting out mixtapes, and the oldsters decrying Spotify are playing by the same old rules, to their detriment. That’s right, streaming is where the money is. Do you want to go broke? Are you a Civil War re-enactor too?

My point was we live in a cacophonous society where only the Spotify Top 50 gets traction and everything else is forgotten. That despite triumphing in its own little niche, there’s no way to cross over. Which is way different from the seventies when AOR tracks crossed over to Top Forty and the MTV era when if a video got airplay the act was huge and if it didn’t it was toast, when Top 40 followed MTV’s lead and killed AOR.

So you think you’re winning by decrying “The Mountain.” You’d rather promote your own little video with only three digits of views, with streams on Spotify less than 1000, where they don’t even show them. Don’t you get it, THE JOKE IS ON YOU! The game is rigged, you can’t triumph even if you’re any good, and you’re not!

The audience can’t find you.

That was my point. How do we make the audience aware of genres other than hip-hop/rap? This is the big question.

But you’re caught down in the weeds so busy judging not realizing that pastime is passe. In a limited universe it was cool to put down what others were listening to, but now with an almost unlimited amount of music no one is paying attention to your judgments, they’ve got no time and are liking what they like and they’d like new stuff, but they just can’t find it.

Because the major labels are brain dead. They just want to follow the trends. But it’s never been this bad, there’s never been only ONE trend!

And they want it all and they want it now. And the fastest way there is via radio, an ancient exposure medium if there ever was one. Radio in an on demand world is like joining a record club and waiting for mail delivery. Oh, that’s right, the record clubs CRASHED! Time moves on, the future comes.

And the future won’t look like today. Other genres will make inroads. First and foremost if there’s innovation, envelope pushing.

But think how big the music business would be if other genres got traction. Forget recording revenue, think about the ticket sales at live shows. We’re leaving so much money on the table it’s not funny. So many people hate the Spotify Top 50, but they don’t know where to go to find something else.

Once again, the industry is punting on this, which means someone external will fill the vacuum, and everybody will hate them in the process. Smart people participate in change. But you’d rather bitch that your personal favorite is not a hit. HOW COULD IT BE?

That’s my point here. How do we elevate something else?

But you feel superior, sitting at home believing Bob Lefsetz’s taste sucks.

I don’t care what you think.

AND NEITHER DOES ANYBODY ELSE!

The Mountain – Spotify

The Mountain – YouTube

If this was 1985 this would be all over MTV, a Top Ten record. As it is, it’s number one in the radio backwater known as Active Rock. Now we’ve heard forever there’s no more artist development, but what do we say about Three Days Grace topping the chart on its sixth album fifteen years in?

Now I’m not gonna sit here and say this is an advancement of the form, something brand new, but if you like this music at all, it’s more than palatable, hear it twice and you could listen to it all day, as you sit in your car mashing the gas pedal, angry at the world, feeling powerful, wasn’t that the essence of hard rock?

Now Active Rock is not as bad as AAA, where the Decemberists are triumphing with the synth-heavy and not quite as magic “Severed,” with almost zero impact outside the format, meanwhile all we can read about in the mainstream media is endless articles about the mediocre Elton John tribute LPs that no one cares about…you know how I know, no one is streaming them, even though if you wade through the LPs you’ll discover the rendition of “Border Song” by Willie Nelson is quite good.

But our entire method of music distribution/exposure is broken and the industry ain’t doing a single thing about it.

This is how it works, tracks break first on streaming services, as a result of online buzz. And then radio comes later, but radio is easier to manipulate, so the majors focus all their effort there, even though it’s oftentimes MONTHS behind streaming services and leaves so much out, there’s really no such thing as Top Forty, just an urban/hip-hop/rap format and country and a bunch of niches, there’s no cross-pollination, and unless you’re deep into a specific format you’re overwhelmed and tuning out, going to see the aged acts in the amphitheatre or enduring the endless smorgasbord at the festival, where it’s more about you than anybody on stage. Radio is fading, but very slowly. Meanwhile, the only format with real penetration online is urban/hip-hop/rap, giving one the impression that’s the only one that counts, but the rest are victims of abuse, of underpromotion, of lack of recognition.

Every day I’m just surviving
Keep climbing the mountain

Ain’t that modern life. Whilst the “artists” in the Spotify Top 50 get TMZ play, we know all about their shenanigans, if you’re not privileged to be in the spotlight you’re just hunkering down and working, like your audience.

Even when I feel like dying
Keep climbing the mountain

And certainly these are not revolutionary lyrics, but they’re new to the audience, which keeps replenishing itself.

But then, nearly sotto voce, we get the lyrics…

The higher I go the harder I fall
So I don’t look down, I don’t look back at all
And when I wish it all would turn black
I try to see the light and push the darkness back

This is akin to the message Katy Perry sells, but to a dedicated audience, hard rock acts are not flavor of the moment, their fans are invested.

And then they modulate up and..

Every time I think I’m over it
I wake up in the bottom of it all again
I’m still surviving
I keep climbing, I keep climbing
The mountain

And now it feels like sex, when you’re in the moment, when you can feel orgasm coming, when everything else in your mind, all the detritus, is swept away and you can only focus on the destination, the momentary nirvana, ain’t that what life is all about, the little peaks, that keep you going?

Like your favorite song, played over and over again. Assuming you can find it.

Enough about Pandora, enough about playlists, those are for background listeners, those not needing the injection of music to stay alive. But the truly passionate, who remember when music drove the culture, they want to be exposed.

Now “The Mountain” has got some traction on Spotify, it’s got five and a half million streams, the official video on YouTube has got 12+ million views, whereas the #1 Top Forty cut, the Zedd/Maren Morris/Grey track “The Middle,” has got 206+ MILLION streams on Spotify and the lyric video has 58+ million views on YouTube and the official video 25 million! Is the Zedd/Maren Morris/Grey track TEN times better than “The Mountain”? NO! It might be a more modern song, but it’s even more of a trifle, something you can enjoy and instantly forget. My point being that more people would like “The Mountain” if they just heard it. As for the Decemberists’ “Severed,” even though it’s number one in its format, it doesn’t even have 2 million streams on Spotify, and the video has a paltry 683,140 views on YouTube.

This problem cannot be solved by mainstream media, it keeps promoting the usual suspects to less and less success, as well as nobodies going nowhere, which just muddies the water.

And you can’t blame Spotify, the fact that their charts are not manipulated is great, why Apple won’t be transparent is beyond me, we live in a fact-based society, at least online if not in D.C.

And radio is like your aged uncle living in a bygone era never coming back.

When I’m lost and want to fade away

I used to listen to records to get me through, they spoke to my soul, but now hit music is shooting for something else, it’s not playing to the audience so much as navigating some gauntlet with riches at the end that few can identify with, meanwhile the riches get other nitwits to follow in their steps when the truth is music is the elixir of life, it’s what keeps you living to die another day.

We’ve got to climb the mountain. It’s like we fought piracy and argued over progress so long that we can’t clean up our own house now that we’ve arrived at the destination, where streaming has won and if you’re played you get paid.

If only the powers-that-be made it all just a bit more comprehensible.

Sometimes things don’t work out.

I can’t watch TV once a week anymore. Can’t make an appointment, can’t set the DVR, can’t even fast-forward through the commercials. I know, I know, there are some great shows on network and cable, but I don’t watch them, they don’t fit my schedule, which is overbooked, but there are times I want to go deep and I fire up Netflix and go for a marathon.

I was late to “Breaking Bad,” I’ve already acknowledged that. And to tell you the truth, I’m late to “Better Call Saul.” But after finishing “Breaking Bad” I fired it up on Netflix and watched two seasons and stopped there. The new episodes weren’t even on On Demand on my Spectrum system, and I certainly wasn’t going to buy them. Ownership is passe. Whenever you hear about someone building a collection, tune them out. They’re inured to the old ways. They believe a person is judged by what they possess. Then again, the future is so confounding, I get why people cling to the past. But the past is history.

And in the past I was addicted to the movies. I can’t say I was addicted to television, my mother wouldn’t let us watch during the day, we had to go out and play. And we couldn’t watch at night without finishing our homework first and she judged what we watched to boot, she didn’t stop giving me a hard time about “My Mother The Car,” but when you’re young and impressionable, everything hits your funny bone.

But my mother got deep into the movies in the late sixties and there was unlimited money if you wanted to go to the flicks. It wasn’t seen as escapism, but character building. These were the humanities that are pooh-poohed today. But math and science won’t tell you how people feel.

And I felt lonely and misunderstood but when the theatre darkened and the image came up…I was whole.

Almost didn’t matter what was on screen, it was about the experience.

But then there were some greats. Like “The Godfather.” Which I saw at an 11 PM screening at the new multiplex in Orange. I didn’t know there’d been lines, it had opened weeks before, I was in college, experiencing a media blackout, there was no television other than one snowy network channel, no DVDs, one movie theatre and…

When I got back to Connecticut I went to the movies every night. Literally. It was part of my schedule, I caught up. I’m a completist. That’s what I hate about media today, you can’t grasp it, you can’t see all of it, you don’t know what’s going on, nobody knows what’s going on, we’re all living in our little verticals being sold a bill of goods.

And I stopped reading reviews. Because the writers believe their essence is to reveal all the plot lines and then judge them. I want it to be fresh, and unexpected, and I almost never see a movie twice, just like Pauline Kael, that’s not the experience I’m looking for, and there’s so much I haven’t seen, so much you haven’t seen, and especially now that the moving image is not scarce.

So I marinate in the story. I fall in love with the characters. I think if I can just concentrate and bond with the flick, my life will work out. Kinda like with music, but music’s different, film is about story, music is about life. When you get the right record it penetrates you in some bizarre way to the point where you think if you ever met the person who made it not only would you fit in, all your problems would be solved. But this was back when musicians admitted to having problems.

Like Jimmy McGill.

I read that the third season of “Better Call Saul” was finally on Netflix. I’d read that it was one of the best shows of last year. And to tell you the truth, you’ve got to get into the rhythm of Vince Gilligan. It’s slow, and sometimes there’s no buildup, no peak, but it’s the little things in between that make all the difference.

And when Jimmy, spoiler alert!, loses his license to practice law…

Nothing works out.

I know people who read self-help books. Please stop. You can’t learn lessons from somebody else because you’re not them, your only hope is to be you. And our entire society is based on winners when the truth is we all lose, each and every one of us, some constantly, some unexpectedly, some are their own worst enemies, but it’ll happen to you, I guarantee.

Sure, it looks like some get the breaks, but then they don’t make partner, they get squeezed out, their spouse leaves them, their kids have physical or mental problems, no one escapes, and this is what we look for in art, a vibration, a connection, we need to recognize ourselves, no lesson is necessary.

But we keep being told we’re inadequate.

Have you ever tried to get a job and been unable to?

I certainly have.

My driver in Rio sent 130 resumes, he didn’t even get a response.

You think everybody’s got it easy, that if you jump through enough hoops the gates open. And maybe that’s true, but it never happened for me.

And now I don’t see myself on the silver screen. Everybody’s more fabulous, or much worse, or a superhero. No one is broke down and busted on the side of the road wondering how they’ll go forward, even though they eventually do.

And what exactly is the relationship with Jimmy and Kim? Are they friends with benefits or more than that? And how come they can’t pool their money?

And you’ve got to serve somebody, every does, that’s what Bob Dylan told us, and Nacho is under the thumb of Salamanca, and he can’t say no.

That’s modern life. I run mine differently, to my detriment. Everybody thinks I have stock in Spotify, that I’m paid by them, but then how could I be trusted? Sure, maybe you don’t trust me anyway, especially in a world where everybody’s sold out.

Except the artist. The artist must be free.

But our world is one of favors. And if you take one, you’ve got to give one. That’s the essence of the #MeToo movement, it’s not just a boys’ club, no one wants to blow the whistle on their boss, because not only will the boss fire them, will his hand-picked board defend him, but none of your coworkers will fall in line behind you. The artist always walks alone, never forget it.

So I can’t handle the frustration of getting hooked and waiting a week. Especially in our on demand culture. I’d rather not watch at all. But if you give me all the episodes at once, I want to dig down deep, turn out the lights and watch.

And movies aren’t long enough, even though they think you’re paying by the minute, like musicians they need to fill up the CD, keep us sitting there for two plus hours.

But television can go on forever, except when it doesn’t. They stop in the U.K., if it’s making money over here it continues, even though the kids have beards and babies and the thrill is long gone.

I’ve been to Albuquerque. I’ve known people who’ve dealt drugs.

But “Better Call Saul” is really about the personal relationships, brothers who can’t get along and big swinging dicks who are suddenly challenged and the truth is we live in a society where unless you’re working by the hour, for a wage, on a contract, everybody’s duplicitous, shaving points, working the edges. Come on, believe me. When you go to buy a car they want to sell you one that’s there, and they want you to pay as much as possible. Everybody’s a mark, now more than ever, when life is tough and you need a lot to get by.

And sure, there’s humor in this series. And revenge too. Just like life, it’s not one long flat line. But you return to the norm. Just when things are flying high they crash, it’s the human condition.

And it’s in “Better Call Saul.”