November 25, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 25, 2022, I’s wrong, no list.
Five years ago today: November 25, 2018, $52 in bank fees.
Nine years ago today: November 25, 2014, $9.99 max.
Random years ago today: November 25, 2021, TN’s most famous non-swing.

           This photo is from the European Space Agency, supposedly their latest. When I look at it, I don’t seen any of the better clarity they claim. That outfit makes a lot of claims, and even if you allow for the large panorama, I recall seeing this photo in the encyclopedia when I was a schoolchild. I mean, if they could zero in on the horse-head or something, or reveal more structure. But this photo is, if you ask me, a waste of Euros.

           We were invited to the Commodore West End but at 6:00PM we canceled. I need to record this the same thing happened to me twenty years ago. The Reb was a few minutes late taking one of the pain-killers, which seem to last to the exact minute. I had a pill due at 2:00PM and I was late. Within no time, it completely wore off and I was down for the count. There is an accompanying effect which is another thing they don’t warn you about.
           If you let the pain return, it can take an hour for the new dose to bring you back to a tolerable level. That is, the pill can dull the pain, but not from a standing start. There is no doubt that the doctors are aware of this, but she was not warned either. No doubt addicts have a word for it. This is a mistake you make only one.
The Reb was still willing to go out, but I put a lid on that. A friend of hers was playing and I still said no way. I have a small vial of herbal med that came in the mail. I plan to take it out to her tomorrow. The doggies had four walks today and a turkey supper, so they are not moving until morning.

Picture of the day.
MOAC airplane, about $240,000.
(Mother Of All Cubs)
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Music. I’ve had time to go over what info is available, and I think the whole jam session affair has been misinterpreted. I won’t know the gritty until I get back but I know the situation quite well. It only looks simple on the surface, new guy starts an amateur jam night and the first couple of weeks actual amateurs show up. Then some ‘city’ band hears about it and horns in, knowing they are better than the locals. However, I know the venue and I don’t think that is really what happened here.

           First of all, the owners would not do that and second, that club often treats Thanksgiving as a four-day weekend. When the Prez described the bassist as having a long white ponytail, aha. I don’t know the guy, but I’ve seen his blurb on the band websites. Unless I learn otherwise, I’m regarding this as nothing more than a regularly booked gig for them on a holiday weekend. Oh, lookie, I got a message from Donald Trump, Jr. Lucky me.

           This is not a stolen gig. I would point out I know the difference. I know that some guitar playe r is eventually going to pull this stunt at the jam. Hell, for all that, maybe the poor showing Bradford put in was an attempt. But whoever it is will not take me by surprise. And it was not the guy from two weeks ago, he was not that good except for the tunes he’d memorized. This situation will pit my management skills against what musical skills are available locally—and I know even if my duo is terrible, sooner or later the club is going to give us a call. Besides, a slick three-piece band in that club on a weekday is overkill.
           At this point, I’m repeating known factions of my management behavior. I know that club cannot pay a band on weekdays, even on a tips-only basis. The Wednesday crowd would not cover one man’s gas getting there. And bands that say they are not in it for the money all evaporate soon enough. And this is where band management comes into play. These guitar-centric bands think real management is a myth and they don’t need it. They honestly believe it miraculously springs from good musicianship.

           Now the Prez may see them as competition, so I send him a quick e-mail asking questions that would be a tough call for any other band even if they outclass us. It’s to remind him we are not shooting for that “AM radio” sound and people that like that often don’t know they been conditioned until they hear something novel. And that is one category where I will give them a run for their money. Yes, a guitarist does improve our sound, but it is not the guitar player making us sound better.
           I will return to Florida soon as I can. It’s agreed I cannot be the caregiver, so we will make other arrangements soon. I did kind of leave in a hurry. As for the jam, a city band would last three weeks max, and like myself, if it does not lead to a paying Friday gig, it will peter out. The club cannot afford it. Since COVID, they have three or four good nights per month. They pay solos $150 and duos $180. Another effect of the COVID hoax is there are no duos left in Polk. I could conceivably operate a three-piece at a loss, mind you. Because for me it is not work, but entertainment.
           Either way, I advised the Prez that Wednesday slot will open again. My goal is to get him stage time. He is still not confident our duo arrangements can compete with the standard presentation. But he must admit he’s gone from no band to the spotlight in three months. He’s seen our material having the sisters go ga-ga and people dancing in the aisles. He’s wise enough to stick with the plan. I’d say he’s half-way to assimilating that our sound, while it may not out-play the generic bands, we handily out-perform all of them and no way they can copycat.

ADDENDUM

           An incident. I was out to the Wilson library first thing, as I forgot a memory stick in their computer. I had been chatting there last day with one of the librarians, a spritely gal though not my type. The topic was computers and a lot of information got covered. As I walked in this morning, she was there and we immediately began chatting where we left off. Uh-oh, also present was one of those gamer-gut fat boy millennial zoomer types. Tub of lard, he should splatter himself on the library bricks and let the roaches feast. Nothing happened, but you should have seen his blubber shaking in hate. I guess before I showed up he considered himself the top-dog of the computer world and I just kicked over his metaphorical chair.

           [Author's note: the above is not clear. It is no secret I am much friendlier to attractive females when it comes to helping, and this behavior is plain as day around computers. The issue here is guys my age are not supposed to know anything about computers, much less show up these soi-bois and, gawd-forbid, sometimes point out their errors. There's one in most offices. Even though they could not score in a women's prison, they still consider the female co-workers to be their brood. You bet I piss them off and yes, often on purpose.]

Last Laugh