eric@ericschuurman.com – Eric Schuurman

Kickender Drive

Considering a ‘Kickender’ Kickstarter drive:

$50k goal. Represents one year of post-employability income.

If you send me money, I will keep updating this document after I am no longer employable, and will not have to exit gracefully before becoming incapacitated and a burden to my family.

Estimated date of completion: December, 2036. This is based on current life-expectancy (77) of an American male.

Rewards: Upon my death, contributors will receive a zip file with all my music, a PDF with commentary and visuals from this site, a copy of my death certificate, and a post-humous thank you note from me.

Protected: Dad Fotos

Trump is Not the Problem

Trump is not the problem. He is a symptom of the problem. The problem is what has become of the GOP. Our country has a 2 party system. It is not good for our country when one of those parties has lost it’s mind. This all started with Lee Atwater and his Willie Horton ads during the 1988 election. The right never accepted Clinton’s win in 1992. People like Rush Limbaugh discovered they could rake in millions stoking right-wing resentment, and the right-wing talk radio industry was established. Newt Gingrich’s ‘Contract With America’ dominated headlines in the early 90’s and made him a household name. Rupert Murdoch created Fox News, which has become the media platform of the Republican party. These people, and others, have created financial empires dividing the US. THEY are the cancer that has overtaken the Republican party and threatens our country.

Fun With Trolling Trumpies

YouTube Music Project Playlists

Music From Another Life YouTube Channel

Music Project Playlists:

Eric Schuurman CD by Eric Schuurman, 2007

Spice Factory Demos by Tom Waicunas, 1993

Soul Roots Recordings by BB Bugaloo, 1992

Old Town Cassette by Eric Schuurman, 1991

Charms LP by Strange Romance, 1987

Autumn ’85 EP by Strange Romance, 1985

Europe Acoustic Cassette, 1984

Misc. Tapes by St. Vitus Dance, 1983

Mother's Kitchen

(Words and Music by John Halka)

Do the invisible shuffle
with the California muscle.
You really try to hustle
when the leaves start to rustle.
Well, come on down don’t hesitate.
Everybody’s waitin’ don’t be late.
Mother’s Kitchen you’ll meet,
your mate.

Join the continental habit.
Feel the wind now grab it.
Catch a speedy rabbit.
You know it’s your turn to have it.
Well everybody’s watchin’ don’t be late.
Telephone’s ringing, see how you wait.
Mother’s Kitchen…

Don’t look over your shoulder
‘cause you’re so much older.
The wind is always colder
when you reach out to hold her.
Well, come on down don’t hesitate.
Everybody’s here you don’t have to wait.
Mother’s Kitchen you’ll meet,
your mate.

Do the invisible shuffle
with the California muscle.
You really try to hustle
when the leaves start to rustle.
Well, come on down don’t hesitate.
Everybody’s watchin’ don’t be late.
Mother’s Kitchen you’ll meet,
your mate.

Recklessly Yours

‘Til the spring comes,
’til the rains fall.
’Til the blossoms drop
and the birds call.
’Til the ice melts
upon the shores,
I sign this,
Recklessly Yours.

’Til the summer’s blaze,
’til the thunder rolls.
’Til a bright June morning
as the Sunday bells toll.
’Til the locust’s song’s
heard thru porch doors,
I sign this,
Recklessly Yours.

’Til Indian summer dries,
’til the fields go pastel.
’Til the school busses roll again
and the burnt leave smell.
’Til spiders and crickets seek
shelter indoors,
I sign this,
Recklessly Yours.

’Til the snow blankets white,
’til the trees vein black.
’Til the arctic winds howl
and the icycles crack.
’Til the holidays chime
and the fire roars,
I sign this,
Recklessly Yours.

With this ring,
I do thee wed!

Matchbox

(Words and Music Carl Perkins)

Well, I’m sitting here wondering
Will a matchbox hold my clothes
Yeah, I’m sitting here wondering
Will a matchbox hold my clothes
I ain’t got no matches
But I got a long way to go

I’m an ol’ poor boy and a long way from home
I’m an ol’ poor boy and a long way from home
Guess I’ll never be happy
Everything I do is wrong, yeah

Well, let me be your little dog
Till your big dog comes
Let me be your little dog
Till your big dog come
When the big dog gets here
Show him what this little puppy done

Yeah, I’m sitting here wondering
Will a matchbox hold my clothes
Yeah, I’m sitting here wondering
Will a matchbox hold my clothes
I got no matches
Got a long way to go

Angela

You said your name was Angela,
a kind offering from above.
You were sent to spread warmth and softness,
delivered with a message of love.

You told me you were fond of flowers,
and anything ‘neath the firmament that grows.
But we both realize now that it was a mistake,
When I snipped from the bush to bring you a rose.

I erred in judgement grievously,
I offered and you took on your own terms.
Sincerely I feel us both to be blamed
when you grasped that thorny rose much too firm.

How can I bring you something beautiful,
something that grows in open space,
when I know you’ll just want to clutch it tight,
and then display it in a vase?

You should not feel so angry Angela.
To you I meant the least of harm.
And that such animosity lingers still,
I find due reason for alarm.

To you again I apologize,
tho you’ve yet found words to forgive.
You shouldn’t retain this bitterness,
it’s so unreasonably destructive.

You said your name was Angela,
and I did not disbelieve.
Now please don’t give me cause to suspect
that I might have been deceived.