I redid the Road Dog Reports pages into a frames format for easier navigation, following three cups of weak coffee and a peanut butter and tuna sandwich (no, really, it's not bad). Jesse asked me if I would re-record a new arrangement he'd come up with for his new song, so we did that. He had decided to change how the song came out of the middle guitar solo section, and it was an definite improvement.

I thought I was going to get a walk in before we all headed over to Kenny's for dinner, but after doing the recording I got really sleepy, and just crashed on my bed while Jesse played, replayed and played again the solo section, working out some slide parts. He made a breakthrough on a certain finger and slide combination he'd seen Ry Cooder do, but had never been able to figure out what it was. He figured it out, and is now using it on the song. It's very cool.

I woke up and decided to check my e-mail, when Terry came in. We ended up web surfing a bit, looking at Audioquest's page for Terry and Bob Schneider's site. Terry was very interested in getting something going on the internet, and was talking a lot more about just self-producing the next album, getting a good site up, and marketing it. So I ran a few ideas past him about things he could do on the internet to hook up with the thousands of fans he's spent the last 30 or so years cultivating worldwide. He's really got a textbook ideal product for the internet: his clients are spread all over the world, his music is in a popular niche, and he's got a back catalog of American music history. I think he would do very well with an online enterprise.

We decided to head over to Kenny's at 5 p.m., allowing us time to eat and get back to our rooms in time for the NBA kick-off festivities at 7:30. Surveys by news organizations were indicating that more people were interested in seeing Michael Jordan's comeback than they were in seeing the third game of the World Series. No pressure on Michael or anything... Then, of course, was the Blazers vs. the Lakers, which we simply had to see. Terry's more of a Blazer fan than a Laker fan, despite his long-time L.A. residence. Before going in the house, we all stopped to take a gander at the overturned tree stump in front of the house next door. Kenny was marveling that of all the trees on the block, that particular tree had been blown over in front of the only house with Halloween decorations...Ooooo...

The twin sisters (Kenny's mom and aunt), May and Gay were all smiles greeting us in front of a nicely decorated dinner table. Leonard arrived shortly, and Kenny's younger sister and niece were there, too. The meal was just outrageously delicious, with very tender roast chicken, string beans, broccoli, salad, rolls, cornbread, and a killer macaroni and cheese casserole. We pigged freely, and then some, topping the whole big thing off with a decadently rich sweet potato pie. Yummm! Jesse made sure to get some of that pie to go, as well as that fall-off-the-bone chicken. We all watched the first half of the Jordanaires game, with all its rah-rah for the USA ceremonial patriotism. I'm sorry, I just don't appreciate George Dub grandstanding with his patronizing little speech about how going to a basketball game is patriotic. For me, patriotism for America ends the instant anyone dies as a result of our woefully militant foreign policy. We have no one to blame but the oil interests bullying their way to profits via the State Department. Okay, I've said my piece.

Jesse and I picked back up on the games in the room. A couple of hours into it, for some non-sensical reason, I got the post-feast munchies, and addressed them with a peanut butter and raisin sandwich. That act got Jesse into his carry-out of pie and chicken, which turned out to be a bad idea for him. Within the hour, he was in the bathroom wretching--a victim of bad food combos, and overeating over-rich foods. He went on to snooze for another hour through the Blazers-Lakers game, but was back in the john hugging the porcelain god in misery. I felt really sorry for him, and was having a bit of sympathetic nausea myself. Ugh...

The infamous Detroit Devil's Night ended up being transformed into Angel's Night, primarily due to the incessant media campaign saturating all forms of broadcasting. Volunteers patrolled the streets in their personal vehicles topped with yellow gumball lights, looking for trouble, and those in need of rescue. There was a very strict curfew for kids 17 and under. No doubt 9-11 had something to do with the seeming preoccupation of would-be vandals. Malicious intent has apparently taken a vacation, or perhaps it has been displaced to those depraved souls being paid to spread terror throughout the land.

I watched a bit more TV after the games, and then hit the hay. We were going to check out around noon to head for the New York and Ground Zero...