Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Nazz - Forget All About It (1969)
Opener of the band's second LP Nazz Nazz, which had been projected as a double.
Led by Todd Rundgren, Nazz were actually a sort of Philadelphia super-group. Their first LP was too good, too tight, too British for the time. But it was fantastic. The sentiments of this song, of political disengagement, went against trends. They had a great live rep, but they never played around New York. Because of Rundgren's subsequent career, people tend to forget the other three guys also had egos, & came to resent Rundgren's domination in the studio.
Although Mets are the visitors in this series, they're clearly the home team for the crowd. Too bad Carlos Beltran couldn't be in the lineup. They lost the first two. Last night they fought back from 6-2 to tie in the top of the 9th, only to have reliever Pedro Feliciano give up a game-winning single to Dan Uggla, who had already hit a homer. feasts on Mets pitching, & should have been walked with first base open.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
It's a dilemma,
It's a dilemma, & I see no solution or alternative. He wasn't my first or second choice as a specialist. I had to choose him myself based on who was approved & where the doctor was located. I had no primary physician; still, it's the HMO's call & he was on the list.
I had no way to compare. From the start, I didn't like how he managed his office; we all can make comparisons on that. I believe it is the function of the office not only to bill you, but to instruct you & guide you. They should always tell what to do next, & when, if the doctor himself leaves that to them.
But since I knew I was headed for surgery, which is this doctor's rep, I figured just do it, & if I get through it & survive, I can move on to my other health problems.
The problem arose when I fell off his surgical conveyor belt. It was a problem he would've missed, even though he was in possession of a test that revealed the problem, I called it to his assistant's attention on a hunch! A symptom I'd not been instructed to watch for. The test, from ten days previous, was found & read for the first time. Had I not had the hunch, this doctor would have done a routine in-office procedure, a standard biopsy, that the condition, a bladder infection, would not allow.
An alarm went off in my head. From that day on, I should have become a special case to this specialist, nothing left to chance. Every antibiotic regimen monitored, every urinalysis pre-scheduled to coincide with the completion of a regimen at the time an antibiotic was prescribed. The office staff never mentioned I could get the test at a local lab, even when I griped about traveling to Newark for a ten minute office visit.
The bladder infections have not been been cured. This doctor no longer has my confidence or trust. How can I when I blame him, when I think he screwed up? I now believe another specialist, maybe any other, would have been more attentive, more concerned, more persevering, seriously staying on top of my condition.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The strange Al Gore story struggling along on wobbling legs. For a few reasons. There doesn't seem to be much to it anyone would care about. One doesn't want to imagine Al receiving a massage in a hotel room. He'd been out of office for six years, & the guy who became President made us realize that unresolved daddy issues could be a lot worse for America than cheating on one's wife. It has no bearing on his expertise or credibility when he speaks out on global warming. Of more interest is how Al & Tipper apparently began protecting their assets in anticipation of the end of their marriage & possible scandal that might result in lawsuits.
Sportscaster Marv Albert was involved in a bizarre incident back in 1997. NBC fired him. But Marv was divorced at the time. He remarried in 1998, took a plea deal, & his broadcasting career quickly recovered. I recall Marv joking about it on Letterman.
Labels: in the news
In memory of Robert Byrd, American musician
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Seaside Heights NJ
Ice Cream, Soft Drinks, Candy and Cigars
Dancing Every Evening
Friday, June 25, 2010
My massive CD library
With classical music, I prefer having only one or two new albums at a time. I can't audition & blow through them like pop & rock. I investigate & choose.
The black case in the middle is Russian & Eastern European. Below in a crate is British, on the bottom some miscellaneous. On the right are Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Haydn, Handel, baroque, early music, & the bottom row is vocal music, some opera, art song, choral, & the books. On the left there's some jazz, American - much Charles Ives, compilations, a few soundtracks, German & Viennese from Brahms on, French, a couple of Japanese composers, & a small selection of pop & rock.
Older avant garde & experimental records are easy to find for free ripped to mp3 (or FLAC) if you're not looking for anything in particular. Most of it was released on now-defunct labels, & there's music blogs devoted to it. More difficult if you want something specific in classical, & to obtain it legally, although I don't see much difference between buying an in-print CD used & cheap, or downloading an file for free. A friend noted you're not helping the American auto worker by buying a used Ford; you might be doing your local repair shop a big favor. So when I wanted a top quality recording of Janacek's two masterpiece string quartets, I put several on my Amazon wish list & waited, & within a week one showed up for $1.99. I also fancied exploring some unfamiliar woodwind quintet music & found a highly praised CD of Scandinavian works for one cent, the bookstore made about buck profit on $2.98 shipping.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Yes, we have no bananas
A few days ago, sports radio station WFAN ran a promo for Fox TV business channel that ultra-right nutcase rocker Ted Nugent would be a guest that evening - I think he lives in a luxury cave in Michigan & eats raw meat - & among other topics Ted would be offering his opinions on the Gulf oil catastrophe. I doubt Ted took a beating on BP stock; he probably has his fortune invested in gold bullion & diamonds he keeps in a secret vault somewhere, the same place he ages his moose steaks.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Gen. Stanley McChrystal’s trashing of his civilian colleagues was unprofessional and may cost him his job. If so, it will be a sad end to a fine career. But no general is indispensable.I can think of one, maybe two indispensable American generals: George Washington & "Stonewall" Jackson. Not McChrystal.
Of course, McChrystal is a darling of the right. Insubordinate-sounding generals who trash talk civilian authority always are. & maybe we should thank The General for exposing the confusion & in-fighting within the Obama administration. But heroes can be assholes. & he's apparently surrounded by sycophants, just like McClellan, Hooker, & MacArthur, to name three other commanders who disdained the Commander-in-Chief. With the first two, which this situation most resembles, since McChrystal's contempt is for people more than policy, Lincoln was willing to risk the trash talk if they'd just engage & defeat the Army of Northern Virginia. Does anyone including McChrystal believe we can secure Afghanistan? Afghanistan isn't even a f*ckin' nation.
Obama had no choice but to fire McChrystal, & most military experts seem to agree. The President is the boss. A President can't tolerate a top commander & staff blabbing like that in front of an invited journalist. & the griping was so personal & so scattershot; President, Vice President, Ambassador, Joint Chiefs, on & on. Imagine how harshly any lower soldier would be disciplined by a superior for talking that disrespectfully in public?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A negative dream versus a recollection of the power of love
In reality, & to our amazement, the assistant manager fell in love, & almost overnight she became one of the most liked employees at the store. But even before love softened her, she wouldn't have done something that mean spirited.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Even if I had a Rita's Italian Ice stand around the corner, wouldn't be enough to stand outside it on a sweltering evening licking through a rapidly melting exotic flavor-of-the-week.
Odell Brown & the Organ-izers
Ain't No Mountain High
Get Off My Back
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Father's Day stroll
My other older brother, Joe, was into Boy Scouts seriously, & Dad got involved in that with him. A problem, I think, was Dad couldn't figure out what I was into, & it frustrated him. None of it was "organized" activity. For him, I was a kind of solitary, anxious, moody, stuttering child given to day dreaming. Very unlike him, it would seem. Nowadays I'd probably be diagnosed with Attention Deficit.* In fact, I had a capacity for a good deal of patience & focus. Dad - unfortunately, not until I had grown & he had grandchildren - failed to notice there were times I wanted to be around him. & they were filled with the potential for intimacy. I loved walking with him. I recall tagging along on his meandering late afternoon beach strolls. He & mom usually walked the Ocean City NJ boardwalk with no special agenda except to drop into this store or that one, or look in on The Music Pier concert. When we occasionally visited with his friends at their small weekend home in Poconos above Dingman's Ferry PA, every early evening toward sunset Dad, Mom, their friends, & some little dogs, went for a long, leisurely walk down a rural road through the woods. Participation for kids was optional. I was like one of the little dogs, going off & coming back, circling around back in their footsteps. They were pretty quiet walks & they would stop & examine things - plants, tiny roadside springs with small, contained worlds - now we call them ecosystems, & listen for songbirds & small animals like chipmunks & toads. Dad was a generalist in those moments, curious about stuff. Dad didn't teach me how to play baseball, start a campfire, or build a birdhouse. He showed me how to observe without looking for anything in particular. Unknown to him, he taught a very important skill for a poet & writer. When, in my early twenties, I got more serious about poetry, & comfortable with modern poets who wrote with economy, I knew exactly what I had to do: strip away all the extra stuff & just go for a little walk & describe what I saw. Might be one thing would grab my attention, like in a famous poem by William Carlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow, or several, or the walk itself become the subject.
My sister still takes unhurried, looping walks around her neighborhood with her husband, sometimes through suburban streets, sometimes down the country road by Black River. I've accompanied them, & the only decision they make at the outset is how long they want to be out, & the direction.
Dad could be so competitive at times, project-oriented, into mastering skills, he can hardly be blamed for not seeing that I loved him most when he put those aside. Perhaps I would've been more receptive to the lessons he considered most important. But I can easily imagine what he would say now about people blabbing on their cellphones as they use a late afternoon beach at low tide merely for some fast walking exercise, rather than for noticing what the ocean deposited on the shoreline.
I cherish that we took a few walks together later, some just around his backyard. He always wanted to know that what he saw, I also saw. & I did.
*Does an ADD kid catch a bullfrog, finish a 400 page book, & stay hidden during hide-n-seek?
Budd Lake NJ
Friday, June 18, 2010
A day in the life of someone who can buy anything
An investment? Buying it as a Beatles fan is insane even for Beatles fans.
John Lennon's handwritten lyrics to Beatles song A Day In The Life have sold for $1.2m (£810,000) at auction, well above the price expected.
The double-sided sheet of paper with notes written in felt marker and blue ink was sold at Sotheby's in New York.
The lyric sheet also contains some corrections and other notes penned in red ink.
I've known some record & music memorabilia collectors. There were WFMU DJs I thought were nuts - until the FMU record fairs became so popular that rich collectors flew in from Europe for them. They have lists & wads of cash & when they run low they go to an ATM for more money. I worked the dollar tables so I would meet fellow hoi polloi hunters. The crazed collectors hit the dollar table on the way out, My people browsed them on the way in, & would check back as we restocked. My radio shows were driven by flea market, garage sale, & cut-out bin finds. I let records I had never heard or heard of find me.
I can understand why people drop a bundle on expensive items. An antique grandfather clock or dining room table. A rare tea service. Heirlooms. Or one classic car, not Jay Leno's addiction.
Seldom the Sun
Thursday, June 17, 2010
What they mainly do is remember
In my experience, poets rarely discuss politics when they gather. What they mainly do is remember, & jog each others memories. Some have amazing, detailed memories of childhood. We all recall when we fell in love with poetry, usually in grammar school. 4th grade for me, Miss Olson. Miss Olson was an old-school unmarried teacher, the kind we believed lived & breathed teaching 24/7 only to find out later, when we went back to the school to visit (they loved hearing from former students) that they they were independent women of broad cultural interests; classical music, gardening clubs, local book societies, Friends of the Library. Some of them no doubt lived discreetly with "companions." None of our business.
Poets feel (or ought to feel) a responsibility from knowing that the only encounter most readers have with the people we put in our poems is through the poems, & the poems provide only an episodic glimpse. Anything more would require autobiographical prose. So the glimpse ought to be accurate, or if fanciful, wrapped in humor & presented obviously as another form of truth. It's usually easy to tell the difference.
Poets may also be strong "traditionalists," which is not the same as being conservative. We could care less about "appearances," purple hair, tattoos; or one's sexual preferences. We're not ageists. The kid poet may be more naturally talented & way ahead of where we were at that age, & we just have to accept it as a condition of creativity. Older poets have incomparable experience. Edie Eustice, the long-time host of Poetswednesday in Woodbridge NJ, had very popular, informal gatherings at her small home, poets & musicians of all ages. They were salons. Some of these gatherings were spontaneous; you'd call, she'd say so-& so was there, c'mon over, & by the time you arrived five or six others would be crammed in at the kitchen table. These went on over two decades until she moved to Pennsy, where she still has them but with less frequency.
Labels: about writing
Radio crackling late last night
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
If you can't risk a broken heart, be a Pittsburgh or Baltimore fan. They have nice ball parks & you can talk about all the winning Pirates & Orioles teams & players of the past.
As for soccer & the World Cup. I'm not much of an American football fan, but if all games ended in a score of 3-0, only a field goal, they would still be more interesting than soccer.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I don't know if this fine single even cracked the charts. Many years later I met Critters organist Chris Darway (he's a very good artist), who was surprised not only that I fondly recalled the song, but that I also knew he'd recorded a solo album.
Monday, June 14, 2010
I'm not familiar with the natural wonders of the Gulf coast. I can, however, imagine 100 miles of Jersey's ocean coast blackened with oil, & floating barriers strung across all our inlets - indeed, across the mouths of the Hudson & Delaware Rivers. I've seen them put in place for small spills at marinas & barge docks. Our tidal wetlands reach deep into northern Jersey, the Hackensack meadowlands. In Rahway, a town no one now thinks of as a port city, I resided next to the upper reaches of a true tidal estuary, a river only about 20 feet wide at that point but which rose & fell on schedule twice a day, where thousands of eels were occasionally chased several miles upstream by schools of striped bass migrating into Arthur Kill, the waterway between Jersey & Staten Island. A few hundred yards downriver were fat blue crabs you could see crawling around on the bottom when the water was flowing clear. Rahway is, in a very real sense, "down the shore." If the river were dredged as it used to be, the new luxury condos downtown could include slips for small boats. & all that could be coated with crude. Only a handful of people I knew in town, mostly those who surf fished on Jersey beaches & crabbed the bays, were accurate observers of the tidal part of Rahway River.
Unlike after Katrina, I feel strangely cool toward Louisianians themselves. They sold out so long ago to the politicians who sold out to Big Oil, & have been so ruinous to their own coastal environment, so distrustful of federal government, that one wonders why they're shocked. Gov. Bobby Jindal's calling in NFL champs New Orleans Saints to "save the coast" at the same time he's condemning Obama's prudent six-month moratorium on new drilling, suggesting that oil companies will abandon the State in that brief period & new regulations (which he might oppose anyway) could be written & instituted before there's a full understanding of what went wrong & how it can be prevented in the future. Someone ought to show the guy a complete map of the Gulf of Mexico. Louisiana is a state that gets far more federal tax dollars back than it contributes. Like Alaska.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Napalm Health Spa Report 2010
My impulse to write poems as a matter of habit petered out in the '90s. A few reasons. I wasn't successful enough as a public poet, locally, wasn't "in demand" for readings, & didn't enjoy doing them much anyway, although they 're the foundation for becoming known, how you make connections. Radio was using a lot of my creative energy. I began feeling some strong limitations of talent. & short prose was more comfortable for daily writing, & I had outlets for it that didn't require waiting a year between creation & appearance in print. Not needing to generate many poems, to push them into existence, I became less concerned with consistency. Now I describe it as learning to toss a knuckleball. Of course, I'd always been throwing them. A handful of poets, including Jim Cohn, had liked that about them all along. Visual artists liked them. & professional prose writers liked them. I made "serious" poems but maybe I wasn't a "serious" enough poet for other poets in Jersey.
David Markson, whose wry, elliptical novels probing the scattered mind of the artist and the unruly craft of making art were frequently called postmodern and experimental and almost always surprisingly engaging and underappreciated, died Friday in his Greenwich Village apartment. He was 82.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Abby Sunderland's ship
Sea of criticism for adrift young sailor's parentsJust because a kid wants to do something special, & may even be capable of doing it, & the parents can afford it, doesn't mean the kid ought to permitted to do it. For all the expense & effort, this was a reach for a loony, 15 minutes of fame overachievement. A forgettable guest spot with Leno or Letterman? A book deal? You rather read about her or the kid who climbed Mount Everest? We've heard all those stories. They're the same ones told by the grownups who do it. except the kids have less interesting stories to tell.
By JOHN ROGERS, Associated Press Writer John Rogers, Associated Press Writer –
LOS ANGELES – What were her parents thinking? Many people were asking that question as a 16-year-old girl sat adrift and alone in the frigid southern Indian Ocean, her ship's mast dashed along with her around-the-world sailing effort.
Abby Sunderland's ship was rolling in 20- Edit HTMLto 30-foot waves as she waited to be rescued by a boat that was expected to arrive early Saturday morning Pacific time.
What kids are inspired by this? Rich teens whose parents own sailing yachts? A typical Jersey teen just hopes to be allowed to rent jet skis for an afternoon during a week's vacation at the shore. Weather permitting.
Labels: in the news
Thursday, June 10, 2010
69 cent CD
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
& the winner is
My conscientious councilman in Elizabeth says he's winning the primary by about 25 votes. The Union County Board of Elections hasn't updated results since last night, & in that count he's behind by 30. Countywide, the regular Democrats had squeakers in the Clerk & Sheriff races - Sheriff Ralph Froelich is usually the most "safe" Democrat in the County , & surprisingly close contests for freeholder. But there are dissident Democratic groups in a number of Union County towns, allied mainly by opposition to the regular organization, & they generated a lot of votes in their local contests that went up the ballot. I can't support them because they're mostly challenging from the right, not the left, & there's nothing particularly "reform" about them at the local level. Congrats to Rick Proctor, Rahway's next mayor.
Weekly sshopping trip postponed til tomorrow, Rainy 60 degrees. We stop at three or four places, park in outskirts of Shoprite lot 'cause people are nuts, & Gina sometimes likes to browse the garden plants outside at supermarket & Home Depot.
Labels: Elizabeth NJ
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
The V.F.W. Crawling Contest
I'm not sure what I wanna do
Monday, June 07, 2010
next time I take a taxi
All in all, I was out & about longer than if I'd gone to Newark, & spent more money. I walked all the way home by increments. First to Home Depot to price snap-together plastic shelving & buy a basic extension cord. Then on to Dollar General store where I bought a cheap pair of jeans that looked well-made of a very soft denim, purchase inspired by the name brand but stiff denim cloth jeans I was wearing. Have to use softener in the rinse next time. Skipped the library. Dropped into 7-11 for a 79 cent bag of my fav onion rings. The another block to Pathmark, which reminded me why I never patronize that store anymore for weekly food shopping. Cashiers too few & too slow. Mine didn't even notice I'd requested cash back. Unusual number of cans on shelves dented or with yucky leaked stuff on them. The store hasn't improved much since A&P bought the chain. But the six pack nutrition drink I use as the basic smoothie ingredient was on sale. At that point I saw no reason not to walk the rest of the way, enjoying fine weather that could have been a day in early May or a morning at the Jersey shore before the heat cranks up.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Partly, I've always been a naive small town guy, frequently enough baffled by experiences & people. But by temperament I'm indifferent to many things. When I realized there were gays & lesbians all around & they didn't always announce themselves, I didn't much care who they were or if I knew it or not. But over time I began to care very much that society was preventing them from living the ordinary middle class existences most aspired toward. I could be nosy, the kind of person who looked in your bathroom cabinet, but I wouldn't tell anyone what I found in there. It was just to satisfy my own curiosity.
Labels: growing up
Friday, June 04, 2010
"There are chicks don't know what they're missin'"
Louis Armstrong was a great, great pop singer. Many think he was the greatest of all. This song is a big ten minute full cast dance number in the musical Bye Bye Birdie. In 1 1/2 minutes Louis pulls everything worth getting out of it, instantly makes us believe the simple message, thanks the audience for listening, & rides out the rest with his trumpet. TV studio must have had strong air-conditioning, Louis only wipes his face with his hankerchief at the start of the song,
Reelect Joe Keenan
It helps that Joe is well-read man, former library director, bookseller, degree in English Lit. from Catholic U In D.C., which I happen to know has an excellent English Dept. I've haven't met many local politicians anywhere who read well & widely. A conservative school, like most Catholic colleges, but my honey Susan Sarandon is an alumnus. So is Maureen Dowd, & radical feminist theologian Mary Daly. & Notre Dame U president emeritus Theodore Martin Hesburgh, who said, "Education is the only thing people are willing to pay for and not get." But if you wanted it, you could get a fine one at his Notre Dame after he'd been running it for a few years. Someday I'll introduce myself to Joe in person & we'll discuss our favorite Beat Generation writers, & I'll tell Joe that the Museum of American Poetics now categorizes me broadly as a "post-beat poet," which amuses me. I wanted to write like a male version of Diane Wakoski, definitely not beat, who had rock star status to me when I was 21.
In his previous election, Joe ran to unseat a long-time incumbent, who cared about the ward but was so alienated from the majority city hall regime that he'd become completely ineffective. The primary was so close & disputed that the court ruled it a tie & ordered another special election. I didn't vote in that first election. Joe won the re-vote. It was a lesson for me in the power of a single vote.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
I just thought that stat up, but if it's happened, Elias Sports Bureau could say who, when & where.
Baseball is such a statistically well-documented game that there are "records" for everything. The stats reveal baseball as a game of trends, of ebbs & flows. There are hitter's eras, pitcher's eras, home run eras, strike out eras. There are eras when the ball is "lively" & eras when it is not. There are confluences & coincidences - always coincidences, because most of what happens in baseball is unexplainable & unpredictable. Now, the computers find something unusual in almost every game.
In the "modern era" since 1900 only 19 perfect games have been pitched; 27 batters up, 27 down, nobody reaches base. Until this season, two perfect games were never pitched in the same year, much less within a month. There were almost three over the past month, but for an obvious blown call by an umpire on what should have been the final out of the game. Later, the ump admitted the bad call & apologized, but the ruling stands. A ruined chance for an unremarkable pitcher to join a super elite group. A great thing about baseball, otherwise forgettable players can make unforgettable history. It was a one hitter. Two pitchers have 12 one hit games in their careers. They're memorable if you see one, uncommon but not rare. Some were almost no hitters, broken up by a hit late in the game. Hopefully a clean, indisputable hit. There have been 223 no hitters including perfect games in the modern era, & they are considered the high points in the careers of most of the pitchers who throw them. A few pitchers have tossed multiple no hitters, but every pitcher knows he's really lucky to throw just one. The odds are against it. Very.
So now the baseball stat freaks need to find an explanation for why there were two (actually three) perfect games in a month. As if there could be an explanation.
As a fan of radio baseball, I really enjoy when the Mets or Yankees play late games on the west coast. The games begin at 10 pm & it's a treat to get into bed after 11 with a book & the game playing softly on the radio.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Booker T and the M.G.s: Universal Language
Versatile Stax session drummer Willie Hall takes over Al Jackson Jr's chair, with less personality, nearly as economical, & he fits the group better than any other drummer I could think of. There's only one really synthed up cut. Synths show up elsewhere more as flavoring. Generally organ centered with some electric piano. Steve Cropper stretches himself on guitar with some of his finest solos. There are a few nods to the disco dance floor, but otherwise this is a funky Seventies LP, the M.G.s sound updated a bit. All the songs but one are band originals, & there's not a bad or throwaway cut on the LP. "Moto Cross" is one of my favorite M.G.s numbers period. I don't understand why Universal Language is so neglected, never released on CD. Enjoy these six selections.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Tipper & Al
Al and Tipper Gore, married 40 years, to separateIf, as they say, there's no one else involved, there must be quite an emotional chasm between them. Many other older power couples, when their kids are grown, take it as a given that they won't be spending much time together as they go about their separate interests. It's the price of keeping the marriage intact. So I almost admire the Gores if they are acknowledging that it isn't enough to just maintain - that a condition of their marriage is being a couple, being a family, & they are no longer able to do it. They defined their marriage in a certain way, & it's not the marriage they have anymore. We've seen enough sham public marriages over the past year.
NASHVILLE, Tenn. – Former Vice President Al Gore and his wife, Tipper, are separating after 40 years of marriage that included a White House run when their sunny relationship offered a counterpoint to President Bill Clinton's philandering.
According to an e-mail circulated among the couple's associates on Tuesday, the Gores said it was "a mutual and mutually supportive decision that we have made together following a process of long and careful consideration."
When I see the resumes & activities of some local political/professional couples when one of them runs for office, I wonder how they manage any kind of close, routine family life. The reality is probably that they do not, that they rarely have supper together or synchronize their schedules. They probably don't have time for extra-marital affairs, either. A busy, ambitious politician can easily be out at a meeting or social event six nights out of seven.
Al is trying to save the planet for human civilization. Tipper's projects are more modest, focused on health care, especially mental health.