Wednesday, February 28, 2007
OODLES OF WAYNEMAIL
Since my blog is not a political or sex blog, I don't post every day, and when I do, I'm never slathered with comments -- at best, I get the dander up of one or two of you. But one post that I made nearly three years ago STILL gets comments! It was a simple, one-paragraph comment where I wondered what became of Wayne Cochran.
As you can see from the photo, Cochran was a BIG-pompadoured blues belter in the mid-60s who desperately wanted to be James Brown. He was always entertaining to watch, and he was very good, and he was REALLY LOUD.
But not many people remember Wayne. Or so I thought.
There are now something like 9 or ten comments on Mr. Cochran under that little paragraph and that's some kind of record for my stuff.
Incidentally, Wayne's still around but he's rocking for Jesus now and lost the pompadour years ago.
Where's the fun in that?
------
I'm going to see the Who (or as my son Adam puts it, "Who's Left?" ) tonight. I will report soon...
TT
Since my blog is not a political or sex blog, I don't post every day, and when I do, I'm never slathered with comments -- at best, I get the dander up of one or two of you. But one post that I made nearly three years ago STILL gets comments! It was a simple, one-paragraph comment where I wondered what became of Wayne Cochran.
As you can see from the photo, Cochran was a BIG-pompadoured blues belter in the mid-60s who desperately wanted to be James Brown. He was always entertaining to watch, and he was very good, and he was REALLY LOUD.
But not many people remember Wayne. Or so I thought.
There are now something like 9 or ten comments on Mr. Cochran under that little paragraph and that's some kind of record for my stuff.
Incidentally, Wayne's still around but he's rocking for Jesus now and lost the pompadour years ago.
Where's the fun in that?
------
I'm going to see the Who (or as my son Adam puts it, "Who's Left?" ) tonight. I will report soon...
TT
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
BLAME IT ON OLD AGE
In my previous Coot post I forgot to mention that I am guilty of one thing Coots do all the time: Assume the worst of someone.
Apparently, so does my wife, so she better watch it.
Case in point: I watched the beginning of the Grammys the other night to see the reunion of the Police. Sting starts off the show by saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are the Police and we are back!!!" Everybody cheers, they play "Roxanne," everybody claps and I turn on the Suns game because I don't give a DAMN about the Grammys since it's just a popularity contest, has nothing to do with talent or good songs and a quick glance at all the nominees told me that I didn't know ANY of them, even slightly, except for that overplayed Gnarls Barkley thing.
So anyway, this morning comes along and on the news, they announce that the Police are, in fact, TOURING this summer. And BOTH of us say in unison, out loud, "I guess _________________ needs the money," except Jan said Stewart Copeland and I said Andy Summers.
Why would we assume that this is a mercy tour for those not otherwise Sting? BECAUSE WE'RE OLD! Because we've lived long enough to see the Beatles Anthology, which supposedly was only blessed by all the Beatles because George Harrison needed the money. Because we've been to enough oldies shows to know that those things pay. Because we've seen enough has beens at sci-fi conventions signing autographs for $25 a picture.
Because the Eagles might tour AGAIN. Sheesh.
Because we're OLD.
------
A kind of odd funny happened the other day. Before I'd heard about the demise of Anna Nicole Smith, somebody, assuming I had heard, said, 'Well it's that old "celebrity deaths happen in threes thing again." I knew about Barbara McNair and Frankie Laine, but I was hard pressed to figure out who he was talking about, so I said, "I dunno. Does Lew Burdette really count?" (For those of you who missed it, Lew Burdette was a pitcher for the Milwaukee Braves in the 1950s. He died last week.)
My friend says, "No, silly, Anna Nicole Smith!"
I couldn't resist. "Big deal. Who'd SHE pitch for? "
-------
This Friday is the 5th annual Alwun House Erotic Music and Poetry Festivus! Come see it! Come see me! 12th St. and Roosevelt! 8 pm! $10! It's lots of fun! It'll be nice out!
TT
In my previous Coot post I forgot to mention that I am guilty of one thing Coots do all the time: Assume the worst of someone.
Apparently, so does my wife, so she better watch it.
Case in point: I watched the beginning of the Grammys the other night to see the reunion of the Police. Sting starts off the show by saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are the Police and we are back!!!" Everybody cheers, they play "Roxanne," everybody claps and I turn on the Suns game because I don't give a DAMN about the Grammys since it's just a popularity contest, has nothing to do with talent or good songs and a quick glance at all the nominees told me that I didn't know ANY of them, even slightly, except for that overplayed Gnarls Barkley thing.
So anyway, this morning comes along and on the news, they announce that the Police are, in fact, TOURING this summer. And BOTH of us say in unison, out loud, "I guess _________________ needs the money," except Jan said Stewart Copeland and I said Andy Summers.
Why would we assume that this is a mercy tour for those not otherwise Sting? BECAUSE WE'RE OLD! Because we've lived long enough to see the Beatles Anthology, which supposedly was only blessed by all the Beatles because George Harrison needed the money. Because we've been to enough oldies shows to know that those things pay. Because we've seen enough has beens at sci-fi conventions signing autographs for $25 a picture.
Because the Eagles might tour AGAIN. Sheesh.
Because we're OLD.
------
A kind of odd funny happened the other day. Before I'd heard about the demise of Anna Nicole Smith, somebody, assuming I had heard, said, 'Well it's that old "celebrity deaths happen in threes thing again." I knew about Barbara McNair and Frankie Laine, but I was hard pressed to figure out who he was talking about, so I said, "I dunno. Does Lew Burdette really count?" (For those of you who missed it, Lew Burdette was a pitcher for the Milwaukee Braves in the 1950s. He died last week.)
My friend says, "No, silly, Anna Nicole Smith!"
I couldn't resist. "Big deal. Who'd SHE pitch for? "
-------
This Friday is the 5th annual Alwun House Erotic Music and Poetry Festivus! Come see it! Come see me! 12th St. and Roosevelt! 8 pm! $10! It's lots of fun! It'll be nice out!
TT
Monday, February 05, 2007
KOOCHY, KOOCHY COOT
I am a coot.
Or at least, I am becoming one.
This is something I have determined after receiving several complaints from my wife, my kids and close friends that, as I age, I am getting unreasonably cranky over stupid shit.
Now, in true Coot fashion, I have no idea what they're talking about. I don't notice any difference in how I react to things that bug me but my friends are implying that if I don't do something about it I'll be sitting in a rocking chair on my front porch yelling at kids to get outa my yard in a matter of weeks.
What I do know:
1. Yes, I hate technology. But you you all know that. I was the last person I know to learn how to use a computer. I still can't use a PC (Windows is a sick, bad joke), but I seem to have settled into Macs really well. This goes with the adage that creative types use macs, and suit types use PCs, which says a lot. The very fact that Microsoft is now COPYING the Mac layout is proof that Macs are, and always have been, better.
Does that make me a coot for saying that? Or is it that whenever somebody talks about how I should "get normal" and buy a virus-filled, useless box that you have to push "Start" to turn off, I go ballistic? Doesn't everybody?
2. I have never been one to discuss politics much with people, because if you don't agree with me, then you're WRONG.
Does that make me a coot? I will never be able to persuade you that you're wrong, nor you me. But I AM right. That's why I keep my opinions to myself.
3. There are things that I think actally exclude me from being considered for Cootdom. First of all, I'm painfully liberal, I'm a nudist (I realize that I just described most of Vermont, which is FULL of Coots), a folk singer...okay, I do HATE most modern music. The phrase "Don't you have anything less than 30 years old in this car?" springs up a lot. Problem is, my WIFE asks me this.
Okay, maybe I am a coot. Do I need to buy a Coot suit? Is a zoot suit a Coot Suit? Do I need to move to Cooterville? Are there famous Coots to model myself after? Oh, yeah, there is one, I guess:
This Coot's about 74 now. He really IS an old Coot.
------
Old Coots do not go to the Alwun House Exotic show openings every year, and I do. This Friday. You should too. So there.
TT
(If your loved one needs
Alzheimer's care to be comfortable or for any
home health care needs check us
out. Here's some ideas from the
government
for more support.)
I am a coot.
Or at least, I am becoming one.
This is something I have determined after receiving several complaints from my wife, my kids and close friends that, as I age, I am getting unreasonably cranky over stupid shit.
Now, in true Coot fashion, I have no idea what they're talking about. I don't notice any difference in how I react to things that bug me but my friends are implying that if I don't do something about it I'll be sitting in a rocking chair on my front porch yelling at kids to get outa my yard in a matter of weeks.
What I do know:
1. Yes, I hate technology. But you you all know that. I was the last person I know to learn how to use a computer. I still can't use a PC (Windows is a sick, bad joke), but I seem to have settled into Macs really well. This goes with the adage that creative types use macs, and suit types use PCs, which says a lot. The very fact that Microsoft is now COPYING the Mac layout is proof that Macs are, and always have been, better.
Does that make me a coot for saying that? Or is it that whenever somebody talks about how I should "get normal" and buy a virus-filled, useless box that you have to push "Start" to turn off, I go ballistic? Doesn't everybody?
2. I have never been one to discuss politics much with people, because if you don't agree with me, then you're WRONG.
Does that make me a coot? I will never be able to persuade you that you're wrong, nor you me. But I AM right. That's why I keep my opinions to myself.
3. There are things that I think actally exclude me from being considered for Cootdom. First of all, I'm painfully liberal, I'm a nudist (I realize that I just described most of Vermont, which is FULL of Coots), a folk singer...okay, I do HATE most modern music. The phrase "Don't you have anything less than 30 years old in this car?" springs up a lot. Problem is, my WIFE asks me this.
Okay, maybe I am a coot. Do I need to buy a Coot suit? Is a zoot suit a Coot Suit? Do I need to move to Cooterville? Are there famous Coots to model myself after? Oh, yeah, there is one, I guess:
This Coot's about 74 now. He really IS an old Coot.
------
Old Coots do not go to the Alwun House Exotic show openings every year, and I do. This Friday. You should too. So there.
TT
(If your loved one needs
Alzheimer's care to be comfortable or for any
home health care needs check us
out. Here's some ideas from the
government
for more support.)
