Now here’s something you don’ see very often on November 22 in the Great Lakes: supercells cruising across northern Illinois. I’d be very happy to be on either the one northwest of Toulon or the one northwest of Princeton. The storms are extending along the cold front northeast on into Wisconsin.
Whoops! The one down by Toulon is now tornado-warned. Imagine that! Here are some radar grabs. Click on them to enlarge.
And with that, I’m signing off.
Much of my playing is pretty boppish, and I’ve wanted to break it up with some different flavors and larger intervals. Lately I’ve been toying with some exercises on angularity involving couplets applied to the augmented scale, and I thought I’d share the wealth. Click on the thumbnail to the right to enlarge it.
The first two exercises are ones I’ve been woodshedding for about a week. They go well, as indicated, with altered dominant chords, but of course they work in any situation where you’d use an augmented scale. While the written exercises specify a B+7b9 chord, you can also use it with an Eb+7b9 and a G+7b9.
The third exercise outlines a half-whole diminished scale and will function as such. I’ve paired it with a B7b9, but it also works with a D7b9, and F7b9, and an Ab7b9.
While it probably goes without saying, play each exercise through the entire range of your instrument and through all twelve keys (“keys” being used here for lack of a better word). Since both the augmented and diminished scales are symmetrical scales, much of your work is done for you. You need learn only four versions of the first two exercises and three versions of the third one.
Happy woodshedding! And if you find these exercises helpful, check out the rest of the offerings on my jazz page.
Then came the 7:00 a.m. phone call from my chase partner, Bill Oosterbaan, informing me that the Storm Prediction Center had issued a high risk for the area just across the border in Indiana and Ohio. With the rapidly advancing cold front still west of Chicago, we’d have ample time to position ourselves more optimally. This would be an early-day storm chase. It would also almost surely be our last chase for the next four or five months. What did we have to lose?
I hooked up with Bill at the gas station at 100th St. and US-131, and off we went. The storms had moved into Chicago by then, and as we dropped south, it became apparent that we would also need to break east and then stairstep down into Ohio, buying time in order to let the line develop with daytime heating. Satellite showed some clearing in Ohio,
Off to the northwest in Minnesota, the low was deepening toward an unprecedented sub-955 millibar level, sucking in winds from hundreds of miles around like the vortex in an enormous bathtub drain. Transverse rolls of stratocumulus streamed overhead toward the north, indicating substantial wind shear. (Click on image to enlarge.)
By the time we crossed the border into Ohio, tornado reports were already coming in from the west as the squall line intensified. Soon much of the line was tornado warned. However, while the warnings were no doubt a godsend for a few communities that sustained tornado damage yesterday, they weren’t much help to Bill and me. Chasing a squall line is different from chasing discrete supercells.
We had in fact hoped that a few discrete cells would fire ahead of the line. But the forecast CAPE never materialized to make that happen, and we were left with just the line. In that widely forced environment, tornadoes were likely to occur as quick, rain-wrapped spinups rather than as the products of long-lived mesocyclones. Even with GR3, the likelihood of our intercepting a tornado would require a high degree of luck. It was harder to identify areas of circulation with certainty; I found myself using base velocity as much as storm relative velocity on the radar, and comparing suspect areas not with easy-to-see hook echoes in the reflectivity mode, but with kinks in the line. It was pretty much a game of meteorological “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.”
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For a few minutes, we got socked with torrential rain and some impressive blasts of wind (and, I should add, absolutely no lightning or thunder whatever). Then it was over. Time to head home.
In Kenton, we grabbed dinner at a small restaurant. Then we headed toward Cridersville, 28 miles straight to the west next to I-75, where there had been a report of “major structural damage” from a tornado. The report was accurate. A small but effective tornado had torn through the community, uprooting and snapping off large trees, taking off roofs, and demolishing at least one garage that I could see. Of course we couldn’t get into the heart of the damage path, but a few passing glimpses suggested that some of the damage may have been fairly severe.
As I said at the beginning, this chase will likely have been my last of the year. I never know for sure until the snows fly, but it seems like a pretty safe bet that I won’t be heading out again after storms until March or April. It’s hard to call this chase a bust since our expectations weren’t all that high to begin with. Plus, tornadoes or no tornadoes, it was an opportunity to engage with a historical weather system. Like other significant weather events such as the Armistice Day Storm and the 1974 Super Outbreak, this one will be given a name in the annals of meteorology. Me, I’m calling it the Great Lakes Superbomb of 2010. In a number of ways, it hasn’t proved to be as impactful as was forecast, but it’s not over yet. And regardless, I’m glad I got the chance to get out and enjoy a final taste of synoptic mayhem.
No doubt you, like 99 percent of the civilized world, have taken the Giraffe Test. So you’re well aware that…
What, you say you haven’t taken the test? Mercy me. We need to get you up to snuff, then, because this thing is important. Purportedly devised by Anderson Consulting, the Giraffe Test measures various of your abilities to reason in a way that allows you to function on a level above, say, protoplasm.
But not so fast. My friend Pat Bowman emailed the test to me a few days ago, and having taken it, I’ve concluded that the test itself suffers from a few gaps in logic. In fact, whoever designed the Giraffe Test is–I shall put this delicately–crazy.
Below is the test. After the answer provided for each of the four questions, you’ll find my own response, which I think is a bit more real-world than the one furnished by the test developer.
THE GIRAFFE TEST
First Question: How do you put a giraffe into a refrigerator?
Stop and think about it and decide on your answer before you scroll down.
Now scroll down
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[Note: Don’t you find this scroll-down business annoying as hell?]
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The correct answer is: Open the refrigerator, put in the giraffe, and close the door. This question tests whether you tend to do simple things in an overly complicated way.
My Response: You’ve got to be kidding. WROOOONG! Wrong, wrong, wrong! We are talking about a freeking giraffe here, not a jar of mayonnaise. So unless your refrigerator is the size of a giraffe, you haven’t got just a major project on your hands, you’ve got an impossible one. Unless, of course, you kill and butcher the giraffe, in which case, still, no way are you ever going to pack all that meat into your standard refrigerator. Even if you’ve got a honking huge freezer chest, you’d better have lots of friends and family whose mouths water for giraffe, because you’re going to be giving plenty of it away.
Just for chuckles, though, let’s say you actually own a fridge that will accommodate a live giraffe–a fridge twenty-one feet tall, fifteen feet wide, and eight feet deep, sitting out there on the back forty next to your meth lab. Do you seriously think that a creature as big as a giraffe is going to willingly comply with being stuffed inside a cold, dark, airtight container? At the very least, you’re going to need a tranquilizer gun, plenty of helpers, protective gear to go around, and all the equipment necessary to implement successful giraffe refrigeration. And by the way, have you got a permit for that giraffe? The US Department of Agriculture will take a dim view of your activities if you don’t.
The so-called “correct answer” reveals the test developer’s tendency to hugely oversimplify complex issues. Whoever came up with that response is clearly in middle management.
Next Question: How do you put an elephant into a refrigerator?
Did you say, Open the refrigerator, put in the elephant, and close the refrigerator?
Wrong Answer.
Correct Answer: Open the refrigerator, take out the giraffe, put in the elephant and close the door. This tests your ability to think through the repercussions of your previous actions.
My Response: Okay, I’ll play along. And nope, Right Answer. It was a different refrigerator. For this task, I had to go out and purchase one the size of an elephant. The question actually reveals the test designer’s failure to think through the repercussions of his or her lack of specificity regarding the respondent’s refrigeration options.
Third Question: The Lion King is hosting an animal conference. All the animals attend–except one. Which animal does not attend?
Correct Answer: The Elephant. The elephant is in the refrigerator. You just put him in there. This tests your memory.
Okay, even if you did not answer the first three questions correctly, you still have one more chance to show your true abilities.
My Response: Wrong again. I let the elephant out. He was going utterly berserk in the refrigerator. What did the test designer expect–that the elephant would just sit there and placidly suffocate to death while the Lion King organized his little fete? I’d have had to to deliver the carcass to the conference on a flatbed truck.
The last I saw of the the elephant, he was heading into the forest and presumably arrived at the meeting intact and on time. The correct answer, then, is that none of the animals is missing from the Lion King’s … omigod, the giraffe. I don’t even want to look.
Moving on, this test has one last opportunity to demonstrate some semblance of sanity. Let’s see how it fares with …
The Final Question:
There is a river you must cross, but it is used by crocodiles and you do not have a boat. How do you manage it?
Correct Answer: You jump into the river and swim across. Have you not been listening? All the crocodiles are attending the Animal Meeting.
This tests whether you learn quickly from your mistakes.
My Response: Is there something wrong with simply walking across the bridge like I did? The “Correct Answer” reveals the test designer’s tendency to overlook the obvious, and thus, to do simple things in an overly complicated way.
According to Anderson Consulting Worldwide, around 90% of the professionals they tested got all questions wrong, but many preschoolers got several correct answers. Anderson Consulting says this conclusively disproves the theory that most professionals have the brains of a four-year-old.
Send this out to frustrate your smart friends.
Or, alternatively, send this article to the smarty-pants at Anderson Consulting, who have demonstrated that, unlike most professionals, they obviously do possess the brains of a four-year-old.
On this rainy September afternoon, a departure from the normal focus of Stormhorn.com on jazz saxophone and storm chasing is appropriate. Nine years ago today, the weather was quite different from this present, somber overcast. Here in Michigan the skies were that crisp, crackling blue you get as autumn moves in. It was beautiful in New York City, too–a cloudless morning except for the thick, hot plume boiling out of the Twin Towers and spreading a pall of shock, horror, grief, fear, and anger across our nation.
Like any American old enough to watch and absorb the breaking news that day, I have my personal memories of September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my cubicle at Zondervan Publishing House when an email circulated from one of the employees saying that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center and that the aftermath looked terrible.
“How tragic!” I thought, not realizing that “tragic” barely qualified as an understatement for the holocaust that was beginning to unfold. I envisioned an accident involving a small, twin-engined private plane, not a commercial jet used as a missile by terrorists. Not until another email arrived announcing that the second tower had just been hit did I realize something much bigger was afoot. How big I still didn’t know, and even as I began to find out, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the enormity of what was happening in Lower Manhattan.
Downstairs in the atrium, I joined a large group of employees who stood, transfixed, around a large television. Work? Who could work, and what manager would require us to? Together we watched incredulously as the towers burned. We gasped as first the South Tower collapsed, and then the North. “All those people!” sobbed one woman. I didn’t weep; the images on the TV screen seemed surreal to me, beyond emotion. I felt no sorrow, just disbelief and a kind of stunned, sick hollowness in my gut.
That day, over 2,500 people who entered the Twin Towers on what seemed like any other workday lost their lives. Heroes emerged in a moment of time–brave, ordinary firemen rising to the occasion, saving lives at the cost of their own when the steel girders buckled and the buildings plunged. And as that ghastly drama played out in New York, another jet crashed into the Pentagon and yet another fell from the sky in Pennsylvania.
How does one respond to so defining a moment in the history of our nation? How should one feel, what does one do, when an ordinary day becomes a day of infamy engineered by demon-possessed religious zealots? In my case, like others at Zondervan and across America, I labored through the rest of my workday in a state of numbness that made it impossible to accomplish anything, and then headed home.
Afterward, I headed to the weekly meeting of my Vineyard church home group. On the way, I drove past two women out for an evening jog. There they were, running down the sidewalk, talking and laughing as they ran, exactly as if nothing extraordinary had transpired during the course of their day.
How, I wondered, could they laugh? Evil had descended upon our country, an outrage whose aftershocks had not even begun to be felt. How could two people act so cavalierly, as if life simply goes on?
Of course I was making snap judgments based on fleeting input. I had no idea what was actually going through those womens’ minds or what the day had been like for them. In any case, each of us processes crisis differently, and there’s no manual for human behavior on a day such as 9/11. The fact is, life does go on because it must, benumbed and forever altered but moving forward nonetheless.
The ability for individual Americans to laugh and proceed with their day-to-day affairs, even as we grieved as a nation, was perhaps the most immediate victory we could enjoy–a proclamation to those monsters masquerading as men that yes, you’ve hurt us, but by the grace of God, you will never, ever subdue us.
To those who lost their lives nine years ago today: We will never forget.
To the selfless firemen, policemen, and other public servants who bought their badges of heroism at the ultimate personal cost: We thank you for your sacrifice and honor your deathless deeds.
To those whose hearts still ache over the loss of their loved ones in the tragedy of September 11, 2001: May God comfort you.
To all my countrymen who read these words: Let us always remember. And let us live our lives as the priceless gifts from God that they are, with purpose, integrity, freedom, charity, and an eye on blessing others. Perhaps the best way to honor those who died on 9/11 is to do what we can, in small ways or in great, to make our own lives count for something bigger than ourselves.
–Bob
With my practice book for Coltrane changes, “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad,” now published in its four fundamental editions–C, Bb, Eb, and bass clef–I’m now making it available as a PDF download as well as in print.
The advantages of the download for you are twofold:
* You’ll save money. The difference is $9.50 for the download versus $10.95 plus shipping for the print edition. Those of you who can afford the print edition will love it! The cover looks fantastic and Lulu.com does a professional job of printing. But if it’s not in your budget, then the download is a cost-effective alternative that gives you all of the book’s vital content to help you master Coltrane changes.
* You’ll save time. If you want to start practicing the material today rather than wait for the print edition to arrive in the mail, then the PDF download is the way to go.
To give you a quick summary, “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad” is a collection of 155 licks and patterns for all jazz instrumentalists on the chord changes to the John Coltrane tune “Giant Steps.” Taking you beyond theory to actual application, the book is intended to be played, not just read. Choose the edition that meets your needs–C, Bb, or Eb, and print or PDF download–and order your copy today.
“…a practical approach to Coltrane changes that will challenge advanced players and provide fundamental material for those just beginning to tackle the challenge of ‘Giant Steps.'” –Ric Troll, multi-instrumentalist, composer, owner of TallmadgeMill Studios
“…a wealth of great material that will be of assistance to students of jazz at all levels of development.” –Kurt Ellenberger, composer, pianist, jazz educator, author of “Materials and Concepts in Jazz Improvisation”
Instant PDF download, $9.50
C edition 
Bb edition
Eb edition
Bass clef edition
Giant Steps Scratch Pad Complete instant PDF download, $21.95
All 12 keys in treble clef.
Print editions (C, Bb, Eb, and bass clef editions only)–retail quality with full-color cover, $10.95 plus shipping: order here.
The single, most far-reaching improvement you can make in your praise team involves the “C” word, “connecting.”
Worship ministry leaders, let me speak frankly. I’ve been a disciple of Jesus for 30 years now, and most of that time I’ve served in praise bands of various kinds. So when I write, it’s from an insider’s perspective, and a fairly seasoned one. It’s from that point of view that I’m telling you, something vital is missing from many–I daresay most–evangelical praise teams today.
Actually, two things are missing. Let me pose a question: How much of your weekly rehearsal times do you set aside for your team to connect with each other and to pray together?
In my experience, the answer for a lot of teams, truthfully, is, not much. Sure, the team members exchange greetings and a bit of conversation prior to practice, and the leader begins the rehearsal with a quick prayer asking God to bless the team’s efforts and vowing to give him all the glory. But when it comes to really connecting with one another and with God, deliberately and intimately, rehearsal times are typically two hours wide and half an inch deep.
I understand that there’s music to be learned and practical affairs to be discussed. But ladies and gentlemen, this is probably the only day of the week other than Sunday when you’re all together. If you don’t devote a substantial part of it to growing not just as musicians, but as a little family who cares for each other and seeks God together, then what is it, really, that makes you a ministry? For that matter, what is it, other than the music you’re playing and the venue where you’re playing it, that sets you apart from any secular band? Because ministry lies in the moment and in your ability to relate to each other as complete people, not just as components of a band who fill neat little roles with set expectations–who play your parts and then go your separate, disconnected, and quite possibly painful and lonely ways.
Ministry starts in your midst as you prioritize what God values most, and that’s not music. It’s your brothers and sisters. It’s family. Jesus revealed God as our Father, not our band director.
I submit that making time for each other and for God is every bit as important as practicing tunes, and more. Except for the occasional new tune, you already know the material–you’ve been playing it for a long time. Chances are you know the music a lot better than you know each other. So, worship director, if you want to take your team to the next level of ministry, here’s where your greatest, most potentially life-changing opportunity lies. Not in your programming. Not in sound checks. Not in massaging a new, creative twist into a particular song. The single, most far-reaching improvement you can make in your praise team involves the “C” word, “connecting.” I’m not saying the other things aren’t important. I’m just saying that there’s something else that’s more important, and if you don’t get that in place, then none of the rest matters. Not really.
I think we evangelicals need to change our ministry model from that of a praise team to a praise family. And I think we need to invest the idea of rehearsal time with greater depth and breadth, as a time not only to tighten down the tunes and their order in next Sunday’s service, but also and more importantly, to grow closer together and to God in ways that give substance to the teachings and heart of Jesus. He didn’t say that the world would know we’re his disciples by the music we play, but by the love we have for one another. Moreover, the request that Jesus’ disciples asked of him was, “Lord, teach us to pray,” not, “Teach us to play.”
So, here’s my proposal: What would happen if your team devoted the first half-hour to 45 minutes of your rehearsal time to enhancing your relationships and your prayer life? Before you ever flip on a switch, tweak a dial, or pick up an instrument, you sit down and share your lives with each other with an honesty, care, acceptance, and mutual appreciation that goes beyond just scratching the surface. And you pray–not just the team leader, but all of you, one by one, organically–from your hearts with a hunger for God that far exceeds, “Lord, we come to you and give you praise and ask that you bless our practice time, and we give you all the honor and glory, amen.”
I challenge you to try it once and see if something good doesn’t happen. Then do it again, and again, every time you come together as a praise team. Persistence will bear fruit, and I believe that the fruit will in time ripen into something far better, more powerful, more Christlike, and more genuinely ministry, than you can imagine.
Show me a praise team that has something like what I’ve just described in place and I’ll come running to join it. I’ve played a lot of music over the years with a lot of very talented musicians, both Christian and secular, so I couldn’t care less how hot a band sounds. Music isn’t a draw for me; spiritual and relational depth are. If you can offer me that, then I’ll gladly offer you my saxophone in return–along with all the rest of who I am as a person and brother in Christ–if you’ve got room for me in your praise family.
Excuse me while I depart from the normal storm-, jazz-, and saxophone-related material on Stormhorn.com long enough to let off some steam. Sorry, but I’ve had it up to here with email spam, and I feel a profound need to vent if not outright vomit.
I have deleted, I have blocked, I have blacklisted, I have steadily added keywords to my spam filter, and still the unwanted sales messages pour in daily, relentlessly. They are tasteless. They are offensive. They are irritating as hell. And, at least where I’m concerned, they are worse than ineffective–that is, unless the goal of the unscrupulous marketers who send them is to infuriate me. In that, they’re succeeding. As for getting me to buy their products, never in a million years are they going to see a solitary farthing from me for their…
* Cheap Swiss Watches. Hey there, Spammer, why not just stand on a street corner in a rain coat with big interior pockets filled with your trashy fake Rolexes and hawk them to passers-by? That’s the time-honored way.
* Sex Products. Pardon my bluntness, Spammer, but you’re a lot more concerned about the size of my penis than I am, and if I felt otherwise, I wouldn’t come to you for help. As for “sex pills,” what kind of vast quantities do you think I consume? Judging by the volume of email you send me daily, a dump truck ought to be pulling up to my place once a week and restocking my supply of your cheap Viagra through a coal chute. But if you want the truth, I’m not using your products at all, and I never will.
So stop calling me “User Bob” in your subject lines, because I’m not a user. And while you’re at it, “Friend Bob” doesn’t work with me either. I know you think that using my name and calling me “friend” is the Marketing Magic Button, but here’s a tip: Disingenuousness is never good marketing. I’m not your friend and you’re not my friend. You’re a sleazy, greedy, unprincipled, disrespectful purveyor of sham products that you’re marketing illegally, and if I knew of a way to shut you down, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
* College Degrees and Diplomas. Let me get this straight: I “deserve” a master’s or doctor’s degree and you’re the folks who are going to help me get one in just 6 weeks. Gosh, what a great idea. I’ll consider your offer of a cheap and easy graduate education once you learn how to write and spell on at least a 3rd-grade level.
* Cheap Software. Guess what? I can find my own cheap, not to mention free, software online without your help. I don’t need your cheap software. I don’t trust your cheap software. I don’t want your cheap software. And I’m not going to buy your cheap software. Take your cheap software and stick it in dark, sunless posterior accommodations.
I suppose it goes without saying (though I’m going to say it anyway) that I delete all such messages without opening them as soon as I see them. What amazes me is the sheer audacity of the folks who send them. We’re talking about an entire spam marketing industry that is premised on violating people’s communication boundaries, an industry that is all about peppering their unwilling database with an endless supply of unwanted sales messages. It’s the good old shotgun approach: If you shoot enough pellets, a few are bound to find their mark, and hang whoever else they hit.
The approach must work; otherwise, such an industry wouldn’t exist. But of course, spamming is illegal, and I marvel at the willful dehumanization that lies behind it. Spam filters are the modern counterpart of a “No Solicitors” sign to a vacuum cleaner salesman. In developing technology that enables them to slide over, under, and around those filters, spammers are saying, in effect, “Nuts to your sign, nuts to your closed door, and nuts to you. I’m coming in anyway!”
A Hoover salesman who tried to sneak in through a side window would deserve to have a shotgun stuffed in his face. Unfortunately, no virtual shotgun presently exists that can inspire spammers with a sudden ethical awakening.
Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if one did? Wouldn’t it be extraordinarily cool if someone would develop a spam filter that not only deleted the most sophisticated forms of spam, but that could also, at the user’s discretion, trace its way back to the sender and wipe out their entire database? Just a thought.
Hmmm…
Hey, there, Scouts, if one of you is looking for a project for your Hacking Merit Badge, have I got a fantastic idea for you!
It’s July 4, Independence Day. Happy Birthday, America! For all the problems that face you, you’re still the best in so many, many ways. One of those ways, which may seem trite to anyone but a storm chaser, is your spring weather, which draws chasers like a powerful lodestone not only from the all over the country, but also from the four corners of the world.
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This has been an incredible spring stormwise, but its zenith appears to have finally passed for everywhere but the northern plains. And right now, even those don’t look particularly promising. That’s okay. I think that even the most hardcore chasers have gotten their fill this year and are pleased to set aside their laptops and break out their barbecue grills.Now is the time for Great Lakes chasers to set their sights on the kind of weather our region specializes in, which is to say, pop-up thunderstorms and
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squall lines. The former are pretty and entertaining. The latter can be particularly dramatic when viewed from the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, sweeping in across the water like immense, dark frowns on the edge of a cold front. If you enjoy lightning photography, the lakeshore is a splendid place to get dramatic and unobstructed shots. Not that I can speak with great authority, since so far my own lightning pictures haven’t been all that spectacular. But that’s the fault of the photographer, not the storms.The images on this page are from previous years. So far this year I’ve been occupied mainly with supercells and tornadoes, but I’m ready to make the shift to more garden variety storms, which may not pack the same adrenaline punch but lack for nothing in beauty and drama.
Holy cow.
What had all the indications of an impending cap bust turned into an unbelievable chase day in South Dakota. Highlights included a ferocious, Greensburg-style wedge that narrowly spared the town of Bowden, and some smaller, beautifully photogenic tornadoes and amazing storm structure. I’ll need some time to process the events of this storm chase, which began in earnest just east of the Missouri River as a tower broke the cap and went absolutely crazy in an environment with CAPES approaching 5,000 J/kg. Right now, I’m chilling in a hotel in Aberdeen, and I probably won’t post in earnest for a couple of days. There’s just too much to write about, and I need to step back from it all for a bit. I’d share some photos if I had my photo processing apps installed on my laptop. As it stands, I’ll just say that I got some great shots, and I’ll be sharing some of them along with a more in-depth writeup in a future post, or perhaps several posts.
Tomorrow looks like another good shot at tornadoes once again in South Dakota. Since we’re already here, we may stick around for round two, provided that Mike, whose vehicle we came in, is up for it. If so, I’m game. If not, I’ll be more than happy with yesterday’s experience. I can’t imagine a storm chase getting any better than that–or any worse and emerging from it intact.
