Blog #54
It’s Spring! Are you happy? Robin Williams said “Spring is Nature’s way of saying
Let’s Party.” Here in St Louis,
Spring is often Nature’s way of saying, “Do you remember where your umbrella
is?” But rain or shine, I’m back, so
let’s get started.
I was recently in North Carolina visiting my
daughter. Yes, there is a McDonald’s in
Pinehurst, where she lives, and I am well-known there. I was sipping and reading one morning at a
counter. There was a man, 50-ish, across
from me. We nodded to each other and
said good morning. A television lurked very
close above us with the sound muted, but we both happened to notice the scroll
informing us that some hooker was suing President Trump. We looked at each other and started a
conversation. There we were, a black man
from the South and a white man from the Midwest, agreeing that something had to
be done about guns and that Trump was unpredictable and crazy. I enjoyed the conversation. I don’t know which side he votes for and
vice-versa, but there are just some things we can all agree upon if we have a
little intelligence, a little patience and a little common sense. It is remarkable to me how few of us meet
even that minimal threshold.
But not you, my loyal readers. You have intelligence, common sense and
obviously a lot of patience if you put up with me every week. So welcome back. I hope you’re doing well. Let’s test that patience of yours by telling
you a long, but 100% true story?
I don’t gamble.
Gee, there are so many things I don’t
do. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I
don’t gamble, I don’t eat spaghetti that’s made out of zucchini. I had a bad gambling experience 45 or so
years ago. Carol and I were young, in
our twenties, and one Sunday night we had her sister and her cousin and her
brother and their assorted spouses over for dinner. Four couples, in case you lost count. We had a nice dinner and afterwards the men
were talking about playing craps in Las Vegas.
My brother-in-law said he didn’t know how to play, so we proposed to
teach him. We set up a crap game and
played for nickels. We gave my
brother-in-law the dice when I was the banker.
He began to roll and didn’t stop until I had lost $78. IN
NICKELS!
We were young, saving for our family, and I had just
lost $78 playing craps on the floor for nickels! Carol was furious. She was madder than Miss Colombia when Steve
Harvey said, “Oops, you’re not Miss Universe.” She was so furious, she wouldn’t talk to
me. For a week. Not one word for a week because I had
foolishly lost $78. It was so quiet, I
could hear my car rust. At the end of
that week I came home from the store and said, “Look, Honey, I bought this case
of soda on sale. I saved $2.”
She fixed me with those big brown eyes and said two words: Seventy-six!
I have admitted many of
my faults and failings to you over the past year. Here’s another. I’m just not into highbrow stuff -- art,
symphony, opera. I must not have been
around when they handed out the gene for high-class sophistication and good
taste. Except, of course, my taste in
women. But you know that already.
I like realism in art,
but not Modern art. I was once in a museum in Bentonville,
Arkansas looking at a painting that was completely
black. I found a nearby docent
and asked, “Can you explain to me what there is in that painting that is
supposed to stimulate my admiration?” He
replied, “Damned if I know.” And
the symphony? I like some classical
music, but I must admit I grew up on three-minute songs that started with Take
out the papers and the trash or I heard about the fella you been dancin’
with. Three minutes is a good
length for a song. Twenty minutes or
sixty minutes – I’ve already forgotten where I am. And opera is four hours! In Italian!
I
guess that I’m just not aesthetic
I
think modern art is pathetic
And
Mozart and Bach
Are
pretty much schlock
And
opera requires anesthetic.
What can I say?
Call me a boor, call me low-class, call me Ishmael. And anyway, should I care what other people
think? You’ll worry less about what people think of you when you realize how
seldom they do.
There’s something I have to ask you. Are you tired of Mike Lindell? He’s the slimy, mustachioed guy that’s on
television 24-hours a day hugging his pillow and trying to sell you two for the
price of one if you call now. How many
damned pillows can the man sell? I
believe that during most days I see his face more than I see my wife’s.
When we were recently in Florida, we went to the
Cardinals Spring Training game. The game
was fine and the weather was good and the seats were great. What bothered me was the cost. $50 for a ticket, $7 for a horrible hotdog,
$4 for a water. It’s a game played by
rookies and no-names and maybe one or two regulars. Why do they have to swindle and impoverish
their fans – their loyal, year-in year-out followers who suffer these rapacious
ravages of their finances only because they love their team. Four people is $300 to go, park and eat. That’s criminal. Fan
Lives Matter!
By the way, those two songs I mentioned above:
Take out the papers and the trash – Yakety Yak, The Coasters (1958) written by Leiber
and Stoller.
I heard about the fella you been dancin’
with - Shake a Tail Feather, The
Five Du-Tones (1963) written by Andre Williams.
I have to stop now. I can’t write while I’m shakin’ my tail feather. I love that song. C’mon, do it with me – shake it, shake it, shake it,
shake it Baby. You can still do
it. Don’t hurt yourself. See you next week. Rock n Roll!
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