Simply put, it is foolish to anymore consider bingo as a hobby. This was (just barely but still) the most successful bingo night ever. I can ride my bike down the pavements in this County and hear people toot and yell, “Bingo Man!” Frankly, I’d rather be known as “Bass Man” but I’m just sayin’. What’s more, tonight the lady who ran the jam at Johnny’s last night was in. She recognized me, saw the show, and remembers what things were like before bingo; then she won $80.Let the world decide the irony should I commence a bingo at Johnny’s on Mondays. It is their quietest night and I now know their “social coordinator”. Entertainment is a strange business to the newcomer, a lot of ropes have to be tripped over before they are learned, since that’s the only way to learn where they are. It ain’t right, but that the way it am.
Take this example. After I left Jimbos, I rode my bicycle down Dixie. This is like 1:30 AM. I was passing Capt. J’s and heard the crowd chanting out my name. I had little choice but to stop in and sing. I’m no hero, my voice is mediocre at best, but I need my public. The show must go on. Sure, I want to be known as a musician, but I’ll take anything as long as it isn’t being a wage slave for life.
On the aside, I got into some interesting reading this morning while watching the shop. I never set out to get rich (something my family was too innately ignorant to ever understand); I set out to get to the position where I didn’t have to bust my ass working for a living just because I was born poor. Technically, I accomplished that by the time I was 37. Yes, I still work, but I never dream of having a “good job” (which seems to be a job that pays more than one is worth). I take my chances with the marketplace, those who grind away for a paycheck will never know the thrill of a successful gig.
Live proves to each generation you cannot get rich by working anyway. The numbers may go up, but that is an illusion. Most people who worked all their lives will not, in reality, have any more than I will at age 65. That is correct, including those who spent all their days paying down a mortgage to find they have an empty nest and cannot afford the taxes on a $400,000 detached dwelling.
Did you know the most common cause of personal bankruptcy is medical bills beyond insurance coverage? It accounts for 75% of people who lose everything, and you ain’t seen nothing yet. There are 85 million dodos out there who think because they own a house their futures are secure. When the value plunges next year, they will find they don’t own either the eggs nor the basket.
Worse than not having anything (actually, I will be doing quite well by 65), those proles will have nothing to look back on but a life of drudgery. I am the last person God could convince that a perfect 44 year work history is anything but a crock of shit. I can tell a working class hero the instant they open their mouths. Sure, I’m broke right now, but I’m also at the tail end of a six-year legal claim.
This morning, I received some sample pages from Amnon, a fellow who has written his life story and wants it Americanized. That I can do, and we will shortly be entering negotiations on a per-page price. From what I’ve read, the tale begins during the Arab-Israeli war in 1974. Amnon doesn’t know it yet, but he could hardly have picked a better ghost writer for this type of subject.
Here is your daily trivia. On average, an unprotected computer plugged into the Internet will catch a virus in 20 minutes. Lance called y’day with a seized up unit, it’s that nasty 2010 virus. Rather than repair it again, I advised him to go to Best Buy and just walk around; familiarize himself with what is out there. Several hours later he called, completely amazed by notebook computers. After a frank telephone discussion, I believe he will be buying one. As I say, just get out there once in a while.
Later, I found out why the crowd was chanting my name. It turns out I’m not that famous. Some other singer was trying to sing my song. That song is the one I put back on the map, “Spiders and Snakes” by Jim Stafford. How dare somebody else try to steal my thunder, it just isn’t done. If you are going to copy, do something generic like “Folsom Prison”. But not the signature song the other guy brought back from 40 years ago. I had to dig deep to come up with that tune as my theme.
Return Home
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
