February 1, 2019

Yesteryear
Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 1, 2018, should be further along . . .
Five years ago today: February 1, 2014, lots ro reading.
Nine years ago today: February 1, 2010, Fred's ride.
Random years ago today: February 1, 1982, an unholy terror.

           I found myself over at th at shopping plaza in Mt. Juliet. Um, I've just been informed it is called Providence. My transmission is acting up again, or should I say, that sensor light that gave me grief entering the Sonora last November. The transmission bands slip slightly unless it is completely topped with fluid. I was unsuccessful finding the right kind, so I stopped at the BAM (Books-A-Million). They don't have the big bargain shelves that were so popular at the other chains, here's a picture of the sunset over downtown Nashville as I stepped outside to leave.

           There's something I don't like about that location already. The staff is pushy friendly. I don't really need any help finding books. In fact, since I use other criteria than title and subject, it may not even be possible to help. Anyway, today, for instance, this very well-appointed and well-dressed lady comes out from behind the counter, walks half-way across the store and asks me if I'm having nice day. I put on my best quizzical look and said to the effect so far things have gone okay. See, even you got the message.

           But not her. Folks, I just don't like being approached by middle-aged women wanting anything. When I go to the counter to pay, she shoulders aside the babe clerk saying she'll help me today. Y'know, I should have moved to the next wicket. Anyway, she repeatedly tries to engage me in conversation and I just want to pay. Then she says, refering to my earlier reply, that she hopes" the rest of my day gets better". Like I need this shit.
           I plunked down for a coffee and cookie, $4.59. For the last few years when millennial types ask how I'm doing, my standard end-this-now reply is, "Meh." Next thing the coffee guy is on my case about my day, and every time he walks past my table he asks if things are okay. I must simply be the type of person that strangers don't think they need to leave alone.

Picture of the day.
Inside a missile factory.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           The part of the day you want to hear about is this evening. Okay, better sit down, this could be a read. First off, I am going to criticize, but don't let that set the tone. I had a great time. It's the impression that things could have been better, but follow along. We wound up at what was a Karaoke bar last Frebruary. Except nobody informed us the first Friday of the month is now the Drag Queen show. We stayed around until late, when the regular Karaoke came on and got some pretty amazing cheers from a crowd half my age.

           Having said that, I was a little beside myself for going to that bar. I did not pick it and the person who did would have known I don't go to such places. It works like this. When I do almost any kind of entertaining, there is a hope to imipress, a secret hope to be discovered, and that directly translates as a certain type of audience that I would opt for. Am I saying that right? Like, while I would have no objections, I would just not normally play to a bar full of Buddhist priests or mental patients. They may be fine people, but my act is not geared to impressing them. And I have no desire to impress a room full of particularly mediocre men dressed in women's clothes.

           The other part is they were not even really singing. Lip-sync, I mean what talent is there in that? I paid a $5 cover charge to see something I used to do in elementary school? And the conversation around me was how "difficult" it must be for the bigger and fatter men who do the drag thing. Well, that hardly evokes much sympathy frome me. Actually, I knew something was off when we walked in and the place was full of below-average looking people dressed in dreadfully dark clothes and many of the less pretty women were wearing horn rim glasses.
           I emphasize, I had a good time. But it was no thanks to the crowd or the show. They were all the mixed gender or more like confused gender types. Certainly I would have enjoyed the scenery more if the room was full of blonde, athletic, Swedish babes and I pity anyone who is sad to hear that. In all, I enjoyed the show as much as I would any other show consisting entirely of no-talent men in undersized costumes going on about sex and insulting normal folks for two hours in a Nashville bar.

ADDENDUM
           This is a good spot for a head's up on Nashville Karaoke. Downtown is a different brand of Karaoke. You might not care for it. The bottom line is the shows are dominated by people hoping to be discovered. That can put a damper of the entire experience. The essence of Karaoke is amateurism, not using the stage for auditioning. Yes, it happens, but what I pointing out is a matter of degree. Too much is not a good thing for that style of music.

Last Laugh