May 2, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 2, 2017, what's a jointer?
Five years ago today: May 2, 2013, scooter and ‘Coronet’.
Nine years ago today: May 2, 2009, a then-popular chat.
Random years ago today: May 2, 2007, you will be entertained!

           My going around last evening to cancel the shows brought another aspect to the surface. Nobody wants to admit they live in such a backwater that the entertainment is horrible. Minnesota Duane cancelled out, saying he wants his retirement to be “commitment free” which solicited several slaps from his girlfriend. That got me thinking how long it has been since I took stock. I sat down any listed 45 songs I could do right now and another 20-ish if I had some spare time. That’s enough to do the show on Sunday. I kept thinking, are you sure Hank done it this way? I may do the Sunday show on acoustic myself.

           You know, call it a jam session. So if nobody in the audience does a decent job, the crowd knows who to blame. Time to dig out those microphones that were help back so as to not completely wipe out the lady. I then dug deeper into comedy songs and routines I’ve done over the years, including tunes from before I could sing and I there was another 15 tunes right there. I think I might be able to carry this thing off. Many of them are sing-a-longs and if I didn’t say, I found and tested the wireless mics. And they all work fine.

           I won’t have time to toughen up my fingertips for this weekend. It’s a go-ahead, I can suffer through the next week. For the record, I have never cancelled a show or quit early because the room was either empty or nearly so. Somebody could still walk in. This has happened to me maybe four times in my life. An empty house. All four times at Jimbos. How do you like my tip jar. I’m thinking of changing it to Polk City, since I’m growing tried of people who say “Syphilis Hills”. No, I’m never going to change it to Homosassa. What? Well go look it up, there really is such a town in Florida.

           In my semi-vast travels, I found the original lyrics to “Kansas City”. It goes:

           I’m goin’ to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come,
           I’m goin’ to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come,
             Tell those Kansas City women
             Their Kansas City daddy’s comin’ home.

           Bin on this old road, tra-vel-in’ night and day,
           On this old road, trav-lin’ night and day,
             I’m goin’ to Kansas City,
             KC is callin’ me.

           I got a friend in Denver, s/he wanted me to stay a while,
           Got a friend in Denver, s/he wanted me to stay a while.
             But I’m going to Kansas City
             Countin’ every mile.

              Instrumental riff

           I’ve been hitch-hikin’, every day and night,
           Eh, mostly hikin’, every day and night.
             Just a few more miles,
             Old KC’ll be in sight.

           When they lay me down beneath that cold, cold ground.
           When they lay this old boy down beneath that cold cold ground.
             I’ll be in Kansas City
             My KC, my home, home town.

           The distinctive part of the original is that turnaround riff, which I will learn on the bass and add it between each verse. It’s that good.
           Here’s a good one for you. My cell phone battery used to start dying right off the charger until y’day. Up in the attic I cracked the exterior display, the one that shows when the phone if flipped closed. Wrecked it completely, but now the battery stays charged all day. Weird.

Picture of the day.
Roosevelt Roads Jr. High (1972)
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           I chased around getting materials to finish the ice cooler for the drinks, listening in here and there. I took the aluminum lid to the metal works shop up the roadway to cut it to fit. The sign on the office door said closed until further notice. Hmmmm. Listening around, I find out the guy selling the hot dog cart is retiring and moving to the Carolinas on the 24th of this month. The guy who won’t budge on the price of $1250 (I’ve offered a firm $900) knowing nobody else in this town has even that kind of money.

           So, either he sells it to me or he tows it up to Raleigh. If he’s that inflexible, let’s see if I can starve him out. I was going to say if he’s “that bolshie” but I’m given to understand that term is not used much in these Internet times. Say, I finally did find a reference to the resistant elm tree strain. It repeated the elm disease had killed 77 million trees, but that the survivors are a genetic strain. I found this while looking up terms used in the book “Darwin’s Radio”. That book, by around page 100, falls into the worn out theme of the lady who is never satisfied. She dreams of being with men younger than her husband, but watches him like an owl lest he show any such inclination toward younger women.

           Up in the attic again, I’m halfway to the fan location and still working. I’m listening to Bushnell radio again, it fades regularly in the summer. That liberal news twist on everything is annoying as hell. Some airline had 18 pet deaths, but because it was the only airline that took a chance and didn’t ban exotic breeds. The point is, they have expanded the term of service animals to “emotional companion” animals now allowed to ride in the cabin. So yapping little rat-like dogs can now keep all the passengers awake. Damn, these Millennials have no idea what kind of hell they are carving out for themselves.
           Here’s a picture of the attic fan, resting on the planks and ready to be encased by the mounting bracket. It’s hot, but I’m to the end of the building. The cutout is only 12” x 16”, much smaller than it appears from the outside of the building. However, since I have to build a 2” x 4” frame to house the fan. This photo shows the screen mesh being applied to the opening. That leaves the option of cutting a larger hole from the outside of the building. I hate to alter the architecture to appear more modern. I’ll mount the fan, see what happens, and proceed from there. Two hours later, I’m still rastlin’ the frame through the rafters, but that is one perfect wiring job. The only thing not used is armored cable, but the entire length of wiring is in a protected raceway. Remember all that furring I bought? Yep.

           The fan installation is done. But the work is not over. Something is wrong with the circulation. The fan blows as much air backwards as is does out the louvre. The climate is tolerable enough to complete working with the lighting and insulation before I address that problem. This is a major step done. I’ll insulate all the easy parts first, which amounts to around 90% of the space. The shaped tarpaper is already up there. It’s a bad environment to get you any pictures. But you are welcome to go up there and take a look for yourself. Two and a half quarts of iced tea, what a day.

           In another item, it seems some sixty people were caught hanging upside down for two hours on a stalled carnival ride in Japan. The news said all the people were brought down and they are fine. My question is, this was in Japan, so how can they tell?

ADDENDUM
           More of the truth surfaces. I was in Winter Haven for business y’day and stopped at the Sunday club. I’m not certain they’d want to hear another three hour bass act, but you can’t tell with these things. What I got was more of the gossip. Yep, the original diagnosis was correct. Toward the end, some of my fans were avoiding sitting at the table with the guitarist because they detected bad feelings. Another correct call was that Lady Nik somehow thought the little quips she was playing between sets with the audience lady were underlining what a great guitarist she really was, but that dumb bass player wouldn’t come around. It’s his fault she’s doing a lousy job because he plays the “wrong” music.
           Instead, she showed the crowd her nasty side, or to be just, more her daughter (Cousin? Friend? I dunno, all fat girls look alike to me) was manufacturing the ill-will. Her mind-set was that I was “using” mother to embellish my own show, whereas I was striving for equality. Hypocritically, they wanted me to be the monkey, nothing wrong with that since I’m only the bassist. Those two are decidedly unpopular now, but nothing to worry about. They quit burning such people at the stake long ago.

Last Laugh

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