3 Chords & the Truth: BOOM!

If you think 2020 can't get any worse, you're underestimating this most putrid of years.

Chaos surrounds us. The 'rona is still raging. The president has it, and the White House seems to be one big superspreader event. Worse, it all was entirely predictable, despite how "shocking" everyone says this is.

The presidential debate was a disaster -- because Donald Trump. Again . . . entirely predictable.

Election shenanigans are in the air. White supremacists are riding high -- again, thanks to the president of the United States, which threaten to become entirely disunited.

And I know I'm missing something here.

THIS IS ALL the more reason we need refuge. Part of that is 3 Chords & the Truth. Part of it also might be your favorite adult beverage, and lots of it. (See: Debate. Presidential.)

I can't even, and I'll bet you can't either.

And we all know we won't catch a break from 2020.

What more is there to say? Probably not much, and probably nothing that the Big Show doesn't cover this week with another fine hour and a half or so of excellent tunes. And even if you don't like music much, you always can listen to hear your Mighty Favog tap dance to the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Because, once again, I can't even.

Because . . . BOOM!

By the way, if you like the show, you always can show your appreciation in . . . Jim Beam.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: Winter is coming

Winter is coming.

I mean that in every sense of the phrase.

As if 2020 weren't awful enough -- as if the mortal threats facing the United States weren't piling up to the extreme -- now there's just one more thing. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has died, God rest her soul, and now we face perhaps the bloodiest (perhaps literally) Supreme Court confirmation battle we've ever seen.

This latest "one more damn thing" comes amid a catastrophic pandemic, an intractable culture war, a cold civil war that already was threatening to go hot . . . and a brutal presidential election in which one of the candidates is a budding authoritarian dictator. To tell you the truth, this is looking like one thing too many for our divided and traumatized country to take.

I am not an optimist by nature. Usually, I count on expecting the worst, then being pleasantly surprised.

I fear the glass half empty is about to catch up with me . . . and with us all.

YET,  the Big Show must go on. I hope, as fine a country as Canada is, the future address won't end up being (fill in the blank), by God, Ontario. Or Manitoba. Whichever.

That assumes, however, that Canada would let Americans in. That's a big assumption, because it won't let us in now.

Because the 'rona . . . and because Typhoid Yankee.

Still, we do what we can do for as long as we can do it. In this case, that would be 3 Chords & the Truth and playing great, eclectic music while trying not to make you as depressed as I am right now.

By the way, this week's edition of the show is particularly tasty. It will either take your mind off things, or perhaps you can be depressed to a bitchin' beat.

Don't think twice, it's all right. On the other hand, you can't be too strong as the city drops into the night.

C'est tout.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: The picture is better in here

Do you ever think that living in the United States is like watching a TV with really bad reception?

The picture keeps going to random pixels , the sound keeps going out, and you know that pretty soon everything will just go to black, waiting for the "NO SIGNAL" thingy to pop up on the screen.

Yeah, that.

I mean . . . I meeeeeeeean, do you ever feel the need to watch the network news with a fifth of bourbon? Do you ever think that this crap's too ugly to stand?

Well, Bucky, we have something here that might help what ails you -- a magic elixir called 3 Chords & the Truth.

BEST OF ALL, it's absolutely free, you don't have to brave a virus-threatening trip to the store, and it contains absolutely no alcohol. (It's excellent as a mixer, however.)

And it's right here, just a click away.

The pictures it will summon in your head are amazingly better than the ones on your television screen. It's not only the Big Show, it's the much better show. The music dancing in your ears ain't half bad, either.

That's all there is to say about that. So. . . .

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: The Big Show @ 500 (episodes)

It all started at a 10-watt radio station in Baton Rouge, Louisiana -- a young man behind the microphone with little ambition and less talent. . . .

And 43 years later, well . . . it is what it is, 3 Chords & the Truth.

I kid. Sort of.

But what did start four decades ago at WBRH radio at Baton Rouge Magnet High School does live on today, on the Internet, in the form of the Big Show. Unsurprisingly, you'll hear a lot of what I was playing then on the program now -- because my generation did have the best music.

The occasion for all this ruminating is a landmark edition of the podcast. This is No. 500.

Five. Hundred. Shows.

FOR A YEAR or so, Revolution 21 was the home of the brilliantly named Revolution 21 Podcast. On Jan. 11, 2008, that became 3 Chords & the Truth, and we've been plowing ahead ever since -- always eclectic, always adventurous and always trying to surprise you.

Well, at least a little now and again.

Being this is the 500th episode of the Big Show,  we'll celebrate by giving you bonus podcast this week. You'll get a half hour more of the best music you'll find online -- lagniappe for just being here and sharing in No. 500.

Did I mention this is the 500th program? It is, you know.

I'll shut up now so you can enjoy in just a second.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: Shots in the dark

This edition of the Big Show comes at the end of a week that began with seven shots in the back.

Then it saw two protesters shot dead in the middle of the night by a teenage vigilante, then had a hurricane and Nuremberg for Dummies -- because the other mayhem wasn't enough to satisfy fate.
I need a drink, and you need the music. Because the crazy never, ever ends.

Otis! Take us away! (And if you want to know what that's all about, listen to the show.)

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: Carry on

The stupid, it burns!

So consider 3 Chords & the Truth as your personal fire extinguisher and burn cream. Extinguish flames before applying to skin.

I mean, really. Some days, it's just hard to roll out of bed, because the stupid -- and the ugly and mean -- is so strong in this country. And then there's the virus, so you're smart if you don't venture too far beyond your bed. Y'know?
 
WELL, you just have to keep on keeping on, keeping the ugly reality in mind but also hoping for the best. The Big Show is a big part of my keeping at it . . . despite everything. (Don't make me think I shoulda stayed in bed! I do like to sleep.)

That said, the music is typically great, your host is typically somewhat adequate, etc., and so on.

And I spend one set of music pretty much showing off. If you're a music geek, you'll appreciate it.

If not, you'll probably still appreciate it.

That's pretty much it. Brevity is the soul of wit -- or something.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: Mostly sanitary

The Big Show, we are proud to announce, is sanitary. Sanitation has been achieved.

Being sanitary is important these days -- there's the 'rona goin' round. And we have a very sanitary lineup of music on 3 Chords & the Truth this week.

Except for that one thing. And maybe that other one. We do the best we can; it's a filthy world out there. Ask the president . . . but don't get too close. He's not sanitary.

Is this enough for you, Skipper? Sometimes, it gets hard to think of new ways to describe the Big Show. Still, I must write something -- and this is it.

So, is this enough for you, bucko?

Well, it better be. After all, the proof is in the listening, not in my blathering.

And remember to stay away from Donald Trump. Not sanitary . . . or anything else that fittin'.

That is all.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

In the year 2020, this crap just ain't funny

NEBRASKA: "Mister, put down that microbe!"

COVID-19: "Shut up! Now c'mon. Your money or your life!" 

(Long pause.)

COVID-19: "LOOK, BUD. I SAID YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE!"

NEBRASKA . . . AND DIRK CHATELAIN: "I'm thinking it over!"

In the hands of the great Jack Benny, that used to be one of the great comedy skits of all time. In the hands of the University of Nebraska and the Omaha World-Herald, it's just another display of our society's seriously screwed-up priorities in the year of our Lord 2020.

In the year 2525? Screw that. Apparently, Zager and Evans were off by 475 years.

Consider the hypothetical: The president of Rutgers University obstructing Nebraska’s ability to produce one of its biggest economic commodities. Its chief source of entertainment and cultural influence.

Sounds foolish, right? But not fictional. That’s essentially what happened this week when Big Ten leaders voted to cancel an entire college football season.

This is not an argument about immunology or sociology. It’s civics. Who has authority over the welfare of your flagship university? Is it Ronnie Green and Ted Carter? Or is it Kevin Warren and Big Ten presidents?

There’s a reason Nebraska school districts made their own decisions on opening schools this fall. Because the circumstances in Platte County are different than those in Lincoln or Omaha.

Maybe losing football doesn’t qualify as a crisis in Piscataway or College Park or Bloomington. But it’s DEFCON 1 in Lincoln, Ann Arbor and Columbus. No wonder Scott Frost and Ryan Day aren’t going down without a fight.

Had the Big Ten really valued its members this week, commissioner Warren would’ve resisted the urge for uniformity and enabled schools freedom this fall. Freedom to compete — or not. If that meant the Big Ten refusing to sanction games and calling off conference championships, so be it.

But if Nebraska wants to play North Dakota State, if Penn State wants to play Syracuse, if Ohio State wants to play the Cleveland Freaking Browns, let them. This is not the time to demand lockstop. This is a time to preserve local economies — and cross country scholarships. This is a time to foster creativity and open minds.

3 Chords & the Truth: Somewhere to run

Where do you run to when there's nowhere to run?

Excellent question, if I do say so myself.

Well, this week on 3 Chords & the Truth, we're escaping somewhere deep into the music. When you feel like you can't take another damn thing, it's good to have a bunch of rockabilly queued up and then go from there.

WHICH IS exactly what we're doing this week on the Big Show.

It's the next thing to having a time machine and heading back to a world that was COVID-free, where Trumpism sounded like something having to do with bridge . . . and where you (meaning me) sported fewer pounds and more hair.

I guess that sort of sums up this week's show. Alas.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

3 Chords & the Truth: Yet, we persist

This edition of 3 Chords & the Truth starts out by cleaning up -- or fervently hoping we'll have the opportunity to pick up, sweep up, mop up and wash up after this fine mess we've made for ourselves in these Benighted States of America.

This comes after your Mighty Favog was forced into a week away from the turntables and the microphone, because the doctor was afraid he'd contracted COVID-19 despite his paranoia about catching the Trump virus. The test was negative, but because the test ain't the greatest, there was a week confined to the bedroom and away from the studio.

Here's hoping to make up for lost time here on the Big Show.

And despite everything . . . we persist.

Our backs are against the wall. Yet, we persist.

We will persist. And we'll persist to a hell of a soundtrack, right here on this here program.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

150,000 corpses = a lot of mole hill

Mount Everest vs. stack of American COVID-19 dead

It looks like mandatory face masks are coming to this corner of eastern Nebraska.

At long last, and with the bodies starting to pile up.

The Douglas County Board of Health voted unanimously Monday to authorize the health director, Adi Pour, to require wearing face masks here. As usual, Trumpers and other assorted wingnuts lined up to champion their "freedom" to infect others amid the coronavirus pandemic.

Because 'Murika.

Others expressed concerns that masks prevent their children from developing healthy immune systems. And some said fears about the virus are overblown.

“Why are we making a mountain out of a mole hill?” Seth Paulson of Valley said.

Pour pushed back against those who questioned public health data.

She said she felt comfortable about local case trends around the Fourth of July. But week by week since the holiday, cases have risen, and Pour said the time is right for a mandate.

Douglas County last week saw its highest three-day run of new cases — 476 — since the end of May. Pour noted that the county recorded a total of 940 new cases of COVID-19 during the week that ended Saturday, a 50% increase from the week before and the highest weekly total since May 30.

In addition, the positivity rate for tests increased to 9.6% last week from 7% the week prior.

“This is not an easy decision,” she said. “If the data had been different the last two weeks, I probably would have said it’s not necessary. But the data tells a different story.”

AFTER THE Omaha World-Herald story posted online, former columnist Matthew Hansen highlighted anti-masker Paulson's objection on Twitter and wondered how many bodies would make a mountain. Hansen didn't do the math. 

I did.

We now have about 150,000 Americans who have died from COVID-19, and experts say that number surely is an undercount.

Now, let's assume the average depth of these bodies is 1.5 feet -- fat, skinny, adult, child . . . roughly average it out. Now stack the bodies one atop the other like a giant pillar of corpses.

Your stack of American corpses would be 225,000 feet high.

Now divide that by 5,280, the number of feet in a mile. That makes the stack of American COVID corpses 42.6 miles high -- 42.6136363 miles, to be exact. I think that qualifies as mountain high. Mount Everest, after all, is just under 5.5 miles high at 29,020 feet.

No, Seth. You have it backward. You're making a mole hill out of 7.7532736 Mount Everests.

Now shut the hell up.
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