Today’s photo is a representative of these fake six channel mixers. Look at it and count, and ask yourself how low standards have fallen to allow sellers to call this a six channel mixer. The only true six channel I could find was an outrageously priced ($3,000) Roland.I’ll never starve. Last Sunday one of my fans ex-husband asked to borrow my PA speakers. Never met the guy but I said okay. Then Dr. J. informs me he was playing at Buddy’s. I walked in the door, he instantly figured out I was a musician and asked if I knew how to play “Me and Bobby McGee”.
I said yes, and was about to tell him the chords when he hands me the guitar and walks off stage. So for the next 45 minutes, I sang and strummed guitar. There were halting mistakes and fudged chords, but the audience loved it. Seriously. So, I’ll never starve. But that is not one of my concerns. Only idiots starve in America.
My database guy told me about iFreelance.com, which I promptly posted the specifications for my drum box. I got back two bids within 24 hours, both in the $1,800 range. Since I know those to be too low for the work involved, I updated the project with a ton of specifications to see what difference in makes. I’ve called in the Jukebox Drum Box, because one will choose song titles, not vague and cryptic drum pattern numbers.
It was perfect bicycle weather, I was outside for at least ten hours. The atmosphere, however, is cloudy. Theresa the Cave Woman is knuckling down for the long haul, bringing home packages from the food bank. It seems she would rather do anything than go get a job. We know who to blame for that. To give you an idea of the mentality of people I’m dealing with, both Theresa and Wallace have threateningly asked to know why I don’t get any mail here. Duh. Like I didn’t have five sneak brothers and sisters holding my mail up to the light.
Thus, I extended sealing off the glass between the living room and my work area. They have both made derogatory statements about me working on the computer before, as they don’t know the difference between work and play. True, my office is now shielded on one side by tinfoil, but that is the net result when both the town drunk and the town gossip keep adamantly suggesting you don’t really need better curtains.
Otherwise, it is business as usual, as follows. Pat-B was over Sunday and I mentioned Cowboy Mike, but Pat-B couldn’t place him. So I said I’d say hello. Y’day, Pat-B was jamming with the Hippie who I won’t jam with unless I get paid. Today, I contacted Cowboy Mike, who said he was at a jam and sure enough, it was the same location and he says he knows Pat-B. Cowboy Mike says he met Pat-B at another jam at the Walkabout, which is likely one of the first places Pat-B and I will play as soon as possible. I invited Cowboy Mike to stand it, and will see if Arnel can drop by. Pat-B borrows some of his show from Arnel, whom I sang with at the Walkabout last month.
Is that what they call an old boy network? And who are you calling old?
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