Somebody Stole My Gal, written by Leon Wood in 1918, is, in my not-very-humble opinion, a terrific song. According to Bumbastories’ staff of certified “math experts”, 1918 was over 100 years ago. Yikes! They had a pandemic back then too. Yikes again! Nevertheless and all the same, Somebody Stole My Gal is a swell song, which is why I’m posting about it again. Like a … Continue reading Somebody Stole My Gal
Syncopated Between my heartbeat and the world Somewhere in the bass line Interwoven with this afternoon’s Sunlight And curled through my being There lies a sympathy As we sit outside the restaurant The sunlight pours down On our little table We sip our cappuccinos slowly For somewhere Between the Music of the Spheres And the hum of the earth mother … Continue reading Syncopated Sympathy
Semi-Annual Bumbastories October Magazine A salute to the number 10, October being the tenth calendar month. Ten 10. The final number in our number system. The end of the line. After ten we start counting again. By tens! And then by tens of tens, and tens of hundreds, and tens of thousands —- up to 10 to the googleplex, which is as far as I, … Continue reading Semi-Annual October Magazine
I know I’ve posted this song before, but it should be no great secret that Bumba, the editor of this wanna-be magazine, is one lazy son of a you know what. The Bumbastories Magazine staff – all of them imaginary alter-egos for Bumba by the way – are also a sorry collection of empty coconuts. So what we’re trying to get to is that every … Continue reading I’m Worried Now…. But I Won’t Be Worried Long
American democracy was already on the ropes. But now, with the passing of Justice Bader-Ginsberg, many of the progressive advances that have been so painfully obtained are at risk. We also have the added concern that the Supreme Court may no longer serve as a brake on authoritarianism. The country may take a turn down a right wing dead end. It’s a sad state of … Continue reading Sad Days
Languages and cultures are always changing. People all over the world like to talk in the latest slang. Over time, dialects, argot, and new languages come into being. It’s a natural thing. Within occupational and social groups new lingo just seems to pop up. New words find their way into common usage. I think that’s cool. Cultural evolution. I can handle that. But what confuses … Continue reading Neologisms and Some Unmixed Messaging
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been crazy about Ray Charles. Ray Charles was one of the greats. I was lucky enough to see him perform three times over the years. Each time he played disappointingly short sets. But each moment was special. If I had to vote for the best pop/jazz singer of the past generation it would be for the late, great … Continue reading You Don’t Know Me
Welcome to September again. Labor Day weekend coming up. It’s been one astoundingly difficult year, and one hot summer here in Califonia. Three years ago, back in the 2017 September’s Tri-Centennial magazine, I wrote: “we’re having a heck of a heat spell and fire season here in California. Of course, there are always seasonal fluctuations in the weather, but four consecutive record-high temperature years is … Continue reading The Annual Bumbastories Tri-Centennial September Magazine
George Packard, combined his already-questionnable, journalistic zeal with his definitely dubious physical fitness regime and rode his bicycle to the beach. By now, George Packard was well aware that it was highly unlikely for him to chance upon any Breaking News stories while at the beach. However, the way George saw it, during a pandemic, if you needed to be to be looking for a … Continue reading George Packard’s Latest Scoop
An apt title nowadays. I read it maybe forty years ago, but hadn’t liked it nearly as well as I liked his other works: The Stranger, The Happy Death, the Exile and Kingdom stories, and the First Man – which are are all just magnificent. As you might imagine in these covid days, the title The Plague came to mind. So, I ordered it through … Continue reading The Plague by Albert Camus
