Don't act like y'all don't know where we be neither.



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Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Friday, May 11, 2012

More April...Really?

North to Tupelo...through the Golden Triangle via Big Daddy's in the Delta.



Two yankees, a Canadian, an Australian and a Brit. Nevermind a Mississippian, there's not a Southerner in sight...just the writer.

While Oxford can boast the omnipresence of William Faulkner and R.L Burnside...Starkpatch has to settle for Tennessee Williams and Howlin' Wolf. Well actually Williams is from Columbus and Wolf is from West Point. So, unless you take in the whole Golden Triangle Starkville doesn't really come into the picture at all.*

Though, Johnny Cash did spend a night there.



Unlike Faulkner and Burnside both Williams and Wolf eventually moved away from Mississippi. Neither man seems to have really left though...maybe it was because of their Mother's. Williams' was a well known mess and she can be seen all over his work...the obsession with appearances and status. Issues that, even by Southern standards, wield and inordinate influence in Mississippi.

As does religion. Wolf's mamma never left Mississippi and she never forgave him for becoming the devil's bard...



and he never got over it.

She was hard but it just shows the level of respect that people have for the power of expression..and music in particular. How could it be otherwise in a place like Mississippi...



It's here that Saturday nights were first infused with the power of Sunday morning. Go down to that clip from Chase the Devil and then back to them girls in Tupelo.

Elvis grew up in the Pentecostal church too.

Southern Culture is complex but, it's not really complicated. Yet confusion about its roots and shaping abounds. Some of the confusion is deliberate...because so much of what is considered to be American culture is actually Southern culture...and not everybody is comfortable with that.

To me, one of the most absurd examples of how this phenomenon works is the notion of Southern Rock....



*I'm cracking jokes for the benefit of someone who doesn't even read the blog anymore. I guess J.Q.'s still around.






Sunday, May 6, 2012

April in Parts



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I seen a little too much of the road in April...even for me. From Memphis to Gulfport...New Orleans almost to Texas around Leesville...Tupelo to Pascagoula just this side of Alabama...

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Then there was Bude with this joker while a couple of good'ns dug around under my hood.

I logged so many miles last month that I drove right through my own wallet. In fact it was the unscheduled...last minute as a stand in for my boss...trip to Ft Polk, Louisiana that not only blew up my water pump but my gas allowance as well.

Anyway...you can't get from Bude to Ft. Polk without going through little Ferriday, Louisiana. Home of this force...



...and his cousin.



A kinda force in his own right.

It should come as no surprise that both men grew up in the same house holds and churches...



Shocking that you'll find a group in the same theological neighborhood that has banned all dancing of any kind any where...Shocking.

I'm gettin' distracted here...Before you get to Ferriday, or Louisiana for that matter, you gotta cross the river at Natchez.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Adamparsons Called it a Holiday.

Back in the office today...

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Vacation's over.

We started strong on Beale.

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The Boy almost caused a scene when we walked into the hotel lobby and he saw that.

"Daddy...Daddy...Daddy...it's Bo Diddley. Bo Diddley Daddy...LOOK! LOOK! Daddy!"

Look at the Boy's face...that kid loves Bo Diddley. A while back, I gave him a box of my old Star Wars figures. The first thing he did was snatch out Lando..Billy Dee Williams.."Bo Diddley...it's Bo Diddley." That's right he's got a Bo Diddley action figure.


Bo Diddley was an action figure.


The lady behind the counter giggled the whole way through check in. I'd been telling him the whole way up that Memphis had g'itars.

There's an odd mistake in Pies and Prejudice by Stuart Manconi...he's describing some rowdy Northern street. I can't remember which one...but, he says it's like Bourbon without the guitar motif. Of course Bourbon St. has trumpets and saxophones everywhere. It's a jazz town. It's Beale St. that has g'itars on everything...everywhere. Not that big a deal but...

Then there was that muddly bit in the middle of the week.

Despite it all, I do enjoy getting to see my in-laws...even if L, my sister-in-law, did say to me, after a game of scrabble...

"Why don't you take that J to bed with you tonight...use it as a pillow...you don't seem to be able to do anything else with it."

I got yer number L...yer gonna pay for that one.

A BUNN coffee pot turned out to be a source of some amusement. It's a coffee maker that keeps a reservoir of hot water...there's no waiting. You pour in cold water...hot coffee comes out...not exactly a new fangled idea.

"Do you leave it on all the time?"

"Sure that's what keeps the water warm."

"Is that safe?"

"Of course not. That's why we bought it for you...hoping it would burn your house down.....No No No. I'm kidding. It's perfectly safe. Ours is on at home right now."

"Well...how much energy does it use?"

"I have absolutely noooo flipping idea."

"Well..."

It's a coffee pot...not a *&^**&^% jet pack. I'm sure it's back in the box by now.

We were back by Wednesday afternoon...

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Thursday morning I was at the dentist.

You may be asking...as I was...at this point, where's the vacation?

It happened for a few hours on Friday afternoon at the golf club...

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...with these two.

Then it was back on schedule. We're selling our house and Sunday afternoons mean Open House. We have to split. It works out 'cause...after all, we're lookin' for a house ourselves.

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You'd think it would be a no brainer with a back yard like that. Sadly, the layout of the house is almost as chaotic as the yard is serene. A serenity that was broken when I turned my back on the Boy for two seconds. I heard a door burst open..

"Put that down and get away from the pond."

The Boy had picked up the Goose and I guess the realtor...who was watching through the window...nearly had a heart attack. So, Martha ran out to give us both a dirty look.

I think me and the Boy were kinda wearin' her out anyway. She loves her boys but....she would have loved us more if we'd been in another car.

We think we're hilarious...

Boy - "Excuse me."

Me - "Excuse you."

Boy- "No excuse me."

Me - "No excuse you."

or...

"Stop sayin what I'm sayin."

"Stop sayin what I'm sayin."

"Stop sayin what I'm sayin."

I think Martha's still wondering where the vacation was.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

This is Still Not an Art Blog.

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This is what happens when I'm left alone on a Friday night...with the ipod, and some cheap canvas board...



...during a thunderstorm.

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Sunday, February 26, 2012

A Showing. A Happening!

I think you've all earned a treat.

I know how desperately you've all been clammering...on the inside...for another masterwork. I am nothing if not sensitive to the needs and wants of my readers and, considering the artistic importance of my work, those of humanity as a whole.

I am a humanitarian...bearing a gift. A new Masterpeice...a reason to party.


Check the weeble wobble action from Frank Black...watching him play the guitar is almost as fun as listening.

First a retrospective...Allan 1 - 4.

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That's Allan 3 and 4...along with a Peter Halley and a Jonathan Lasker...the edge of a Rothko.


The Cat Lady's son.


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Allan 1,2 and 3.

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A close up of Allan 3...my greatest, perhaps the greatest, work to date.



And now for the latest Masterpeice...

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I call it Ronnie and Allan.*

You're all very welcome.

*Actually I hate this one...it's been sitting in there for months.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Week That Wasn't

I don't think I've ever gone more than a week without posting but, it's been since last Monday that put anything up.

Of course, it's been plenty busy around here and I trust that everybody's been well entertained.

Let's get caught up.

Mostly I've been dealing with work. The semi-annual non-job related work issues.

I spend Monday morning and all of Friday in an office but, I don't work in an office. I work here...

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and here...

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and on good days here...

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The people I work for do work in offices...and they go through occasional bouts of paranoia about what we, the outbound salesmen, are up to...out there spending all their money, carousing in places like...what Gloster??? Mound Bayou???

Stop hatin' man. There's nothin' keepin y'all in office.

It's especially irritating when you've been sent to a place by one person and then grilled as to why you were there by another. When these moments come, we take it...swap admonishments (this one tips too much, this one over-works the same area, the other spends too much on lodging) and then go back to handling our business.

Which mainly consists of driving between places like Jena and Jonesville, Louisiana...listening to the radio.



Really though, I love my job. I try to do a good job and I think I manage it but, seriously...Martha's hotter than a two dollar pistol and there's The Boy, imBlakei...

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I'm not out here in St. Fancisville 'cause I'd rather not be at the house.

Speaking of being at the house...I took a minute this weekend to watch a movie..To Kill a King.

Two things...one, Tim Roth is the boss. Two, while I'm somewhat familiar with this period in British History...it's not in my wheelhouse but, I'll say this, every time I've ever seen any representation of Cromwell I've wanted to choke him...choke 'im right out.

I think it's the Puritan stuff...that's who the Yankees are. The English ones anyway. That's where they come from. Maybe that's it. That and I just find the presumptuousness of revolutions repulsive by nature...executing Kings! Who in the...anyway, that's probably the result of our history in The South. Which has been forced through, and is constantly being threatened with*, radical change for the last 150 years.

Speaking of...I stopped in Rosemont yesterday. The family home of Jeff Davis...a simple elegant homestead. Nothing pretentious or ostentatious. A home.

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That's a post for another day...right now I'm just trying to get back to my own home.

I think that gets us back on track.

*There have been some calls for a third Reconstruction...an economic reconstruction. We're attracting industry by cheating. We don't have any unions and that isn't fair. The gov. recently used labor laws to stop Boeing moving a plant from Seattle to South Carolina...and we won't talk about Airbus.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Welcome Home from the Flaming Lips

In celebration of the return of Flimsy Cups' contributing philospher and resident lunatic...I give you something totally unrelated to Nat's homecoming....The Flaming Lips.

If you strip away the self importance of the late 60's, the pomposity of the early 70's, the anger of the late 70's and the paranoia of the 80's...you're left with left with loud guitars, soap suds and Christmas lights...The Flaming Lips.


(I love this video...it's fun...and the dark haird girl makes a very passible Martha at 20 years old...scratch passable. I've watched it a few more times now. If I had been across the room from her 20 years ago I would have thought it was Martha...same hair, same eyes, same complexion, same shape.)

Nirvana was packeged for the teenage angst dollar...good show they made of it too, sorta. Pavement spoke directly to the over educated, willfully univolved and bored with anger, middle class record collector.

The Flaming Lips were something else though. They seemed to be effortlessly channeling all that music from the past without any of the baggage.



What fun....what brilliance.



I don't know what they are now. I bought the Soft Bulletin when it came out and didn't really know what I was supposed to do with it...Grandiose, Sweeping...self aware and kinda boring really. But, who cares? They've made a mark for themselves and hopefully some money. They deserve every penny.



Oh yeah...welcome back Nat.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Living with the Dragon.



"No! I've only got one pinky toe." That's what the boy told me this morning. I was a little taken aback by the amount of rage he had scrunched into his little face...like Mick Jagger imitating Henry Rollins.*

I've mentioned before that he has an argumentative streak...and he can be a little lippy. He's stubborn like his Momma and a bit of a handle.

His behaviour is not unreasonable though. He minds...especially others. He's just a rambunctious youngin' and as long as we can hammer manners and a sense of respect for others into him...that'll serve him well later on, I think.

Lately though..he's been on the roids.

That ear infection came with an atrocious cough. They put him on steer-roids and a breathing treatment...for about an hour after he takes off the Dragon styled breathing cup (please don't point out that it obviously...OBVIOUSLY looks like a chicken...just let it go) his personality is wired for sound...set on 11.

"NO! I don't want to CHILL OUT!"

There've even been some tantrums...which neither me or his Momma have any patience for. I'd much rather deal with his sass than whining. Last night he burst into tears of anger because he wanted to sit in the seat where I had sat down to eat. I'd been there for 10 minutes and had even chatted with him while he played on the floor. Then the switch went on and he flew into a rage because he had been sitting there 15 minutes earlier.

There was no inbetween...no asking..no nothin...one second he's playing with his garbage trucks and the next he's comin' at me like he wants my wallet. Roid rage or not there's a zero tolerance policy on tantrums in the house...if I'm not allowed to have one, and it has been explained to me that I am not, nobody is.



That's part of the story...the rest has been mostly hilarious.

He comes off the stuff like it's Red Bull and Bourbon...he's fidgety, even for a three year old, and aggressive beyond what his coordination will allow. He come back to the bedroom last night to tell me we were gonna play football in the livin' room...he fell three times in the hallway headin' back that way.

Then there are the tirades...he went on a long, mostly indecipherable, rant about sandals the other night...best we could tell it centered around how much he hates it when his friend W. wears sandals. Good boy...flippin hippies.

The cops have come in for it too. I don't know where he got the idea that all cops do is ride around looking to ruin somebody's day :cough: but, it has set in. Earlier this week, we were all in the car when he spotted some blue lights...a harangue followed. We were able to pick out the word "ticket" and the now familiar, "they just ruin somebody's day" and the final summation..."all they do is CLLUH-OOOOWN!"

HAHAHHAAHHA

He took his last bump this morning. I reckon he'll be back to normal soon...which is enough of a handful as it is.



*This post owes a certain amount of debt to a post on Ishouldbeworking (a blog that you should all know and love by now) for the shape it took.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Party Time!

Despite the wishes and best efforts of the Sister* and the bookies...39 today and Counting!



Deal with it!



I got a text from her late last night...all it said was "Bite my Butt." I try to be a loving brother and this is the thanks I get.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

What I Expect in the New Year - Memphis, Tennessee

This is the beginning of what will be a series of post in the next few weeks. It'll be a list of New Year's Resolutions I'm assigning to the world.

Why should I saddle myself with the near impossible task of improving on me when there's so much about the rest of the world in obvious need of change?

First Expectation: A definitive version of the Chuck Berry song Memphis, Tennessee.

Here's the original...



I hate to take issue with the man hisself but...somebody dropped the ball here. The bloopy bass line is interesting and shows that somebody's instincts were good but, over all, there's no bottom to it. The effort is just too tiny for what is a gigantic song.

Two things...one, it's a testament to the man's prolific genius that this song...maybe the greatest rocknroll song ever...is treated so carelessly.

Two, the song is undeniable. It took on a life of it's own. It's a monster.

Lonnie Mack got hold of it...gave the guitar the space it needed and the ringing hook is revealed. Then Johnny Rivers....



It's canned but even the ticky tack crowd noises can't mar the groove.

At this point, the great man reclaims his song and, at what I think is the height of his powers as a preformer, puts it back on the set list.


This clip is closer to 1973 than '63.

Listen to how effortlessly he makes it moan. The monster's got a soul.

What it never got, as far as I know, is a difinitive recording...it's full potential is still unknown.

Maybe not entirely unknown...



So, you have your first ressolution world. Those of you with guitars (and we have our fair share of them right here) you have 12 months.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Radio Grown Folks - Home at Last.

Kind of a drag today.

I made the rounds by myself. Down time, that would normally be passed gossiping or talking enormous mounds of trash, was spent scalding my tongue at one Mackdonald's after another. By the time I got to Tato-Nuts they were sold out and the roosters were nowhere to be seen or heard at Lulu's...too flippin' cold.

I did have the FM though...and these ladies to keep me company.




Plain spoken existentialism for hard livin people...country music at it's finest.



I love this song and there's a live clip out there with an old fella burning a hole in a steel guitar but this video just kills me...



I didn't actually hear Every Things Gonna Work Out Fine but, we don't need to hear Proud Mary again. Besides, there's no way I'm passing up any excuse to play this clip.

Pick yer mouth up off the floor.

So, I reckon it coulda been worse...but I was happy enough to see the house.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Fuel Level Low

It's raining today...a dripping mist really.

Sky's like a dirty dish rag.

It's cold (40 or 50...yeah Adam I know). That's our winter.

I pulled out of the drive this morning with no gas. I didn't know that 'til the truck started beepin' at me...beep, "time to go stand out in the mucky air," beeep, "clean the passenger floor board out," beeeeep, "roll your eyes and mutter because the pump's so slow, "beeeeeeeep." I hate to stop for gas. I just put it out of my mind until it can't be avoided. It's a reminder of just how high maintenance these machines are. I love what the car means. I go when I want and, in my wown peice of property, I conquer time and space. Plus, I can stop for coffe and a square whenever I feel like it; however, I hate the object itself...or maybe it's being forced to ponder the car's limitations that I hate.

Of course, that attitude leads to poor upkeep...which leads to more mechanical problems...which only fuels my purple, bleeding, hatred of the thing. It's a bulletproof cycle...the only way to avoid what I hate is to do what I hate. So why bother?

If I had the money...I'd pay somebody to sneak onot the drive at night and fill it up with gas while I slept.

I don't have that kinda bread though so...beeeep. I'm husslin' to get to the gas station. Probably the exact opposite of what you should do but, you try fightin' the urge. I knew it was bad too because the light came on yesterday..and I ignored it. Now I'm trying to make up for lost time but, there's a problem.

It's wet...and when it's wet the driver in these parts has one of two reactions. Either they take it as a sign of the Rapture and slow to a crawl..I guess in order to minimize the damage that will occurr once they disappear from the car...or in sheer terror they drive like hell to find dry land.

You're movin along at 80 miles an hour. That means that the car in front of you doing 30 miles an hour...hands at 10 and 2, chin jutted out above the steering wheel...just appears in your windshield. You can either slam on the breaks or pass 'im. That's when a streak screams past on the left...a hole in the mist. This must be what it's like driving from one deminsion to another.

I came out the other end at the Shell Station on Watkins. Suspiciously there were open pumps. I thought I might make it to work on time after all...'til I reached in my back pocket and realized I didn't have my wallet. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHH.

A quick call to the office and then back into the wormhole to risk my life on vapors...

I survived and I made it home to retrieve my wallet...even made it to the gas station where I got the tank about half full before I completely lost patience with the pump. Which means I'll have to fill up again tomorrow on the way to Baton Rouge...:grindsteeth:.

How did I manage all that before 8:30 this morning...how did I keep it all together? With a lot of this...



at full blast.

It's about the only thing that suites this crap weather.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Radio Grown Folks - Monday in the Office

I'll be in the office all day today.

I've got a lot paperwork to do, orders to place, I have to pack for the week...booooooooring.

That means y'all can't do what you normally do. Ignore this blog on Mondays.

Tuesday through Thursday we do a boomin' business around here but, Mondays and Fridays are dead. We can't have that today...y'all gotta entertain me. Log on say something stupid. Tell your friends.

To help you get started here are last weeks gems from the radio...



That's some Urban Blues I can get down with.



I don't really have to say anything about this do I?



A staple on the local radio...can't beat it.

Alright y'all.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Musical Interlude

Let's take a break....

This video has been posted before but it's never been given it's due. It's Rock Lobster, it's canned probably...who cares. If you aren't ready to rip your seat apart by the time he's naming off sea creatures...well? We still love you but.....



The feeling that you may be having a hard time putting your finger on is...FUN.



Eyes in the socket so I'm gonna SOCK IT....nobody ever did, or has done, a better job of herding Noise, or at the very least its aesthetic, into the mainstream of Rock n Roll (as a sound) history...even if not too many people heard it, even if they abandoned the effort (though not entirely...see the end of Elevate Me Later for maybe the most seemlessly integrated and beautiful moment of racket you'll ever hear in traditional song structure). If you don't like it...you can BOP BOP BOP BOP DOP BAH on the back space and get **** out. But do please come back eventually :).



And to keep things topical....all you really need to know about The South in 2:43 seconds.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Hard at Work - Part 2. On the Frayed Edges.

This week's Fight for Right..."against Psychos and the uf-O's"...ended in Friar's Point.

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North of Clarkesdale, up against the Mississippi River, at the scruffy edges of the state, you'll find Friar's Point.

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It was after five Friday evening when I followed my colleague into town on what can barely be described as a lane. On one side over hanging tree limbs threaten to completely obscure the forward view...on the other, the fields grow menacingly close to the Purple, Baby Blue, Black and Maroon clapboard shacks.

The closeness breaks at the first intersection on an abandoned building that takes up almost an entire block. Through the vine choked cyclone fence you can see into shattered windows vegetation steadily at work reclaiming the plot...across the street, in a dirt yard sits an old black man in a rocking chair staring through a lazy eye at his fence. A six foot tall fence made of old vehicle and engine parts.



It shouldn't come as any great surprise that those desperate, threatening and disturbingly seductive sounds have roots in a place like Friar's Point.

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The place isn't dead. Just before I took that photo a fresh-faced black teenage couple zoomed by on a four wheeler but, the constant presence of the levy reminds you that the town literally sits on the edge of disaster. The place is a material expression of fatalism...

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Of course....

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...every natural and unholy disaster from yankees to tornadoes have taken their shots at the town.

On the way out I passed two youngish black males having a lively discussion with a tiny southeast Asian woman sitting on a milk crate.

That's Friars Point...that's The Delta.







Saturday, August 20, 2011

Radio Grown Folks - "Get Up Daddy...

I wanna hear some Bo Diddley."

He'd hauled himself up on to the bed rail by grabbing my arm. Then he pulled the pillow off my face, I turned toward him and with his nose almost touching mine he says..."COME ON."

That's how my day started. That is my son.

The morning's play list....for your joy and enlightenment.










As always...you're welcome but, thank The Boy.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Nashville Must Be Destroyed: Exhibit A



This thing has been burning up the country charts and FM radio like Thriller.

The rapping is just hokey...the singing is as hamfisted as the production. It's plastic...and where's the beat?

Still...that melody is strong. What's happened here? Nashville that's what.

Here's what it sounds like in the hands of the boys that wrote it...



We have to digress here for a second. The sound of the peach pit in Brantley Gilbert's mouth when he sings "Mud Tywews" is itself sweet music to my ears. We all have issues with Rs to a certain extent down here. The letter doesn't exist, is not acknowledged in Louisiana...but, Georgia, or Geowgia, has it's own particular problem with the letter. The relationship between rs and ws in the mouth of a Georgia Cracker is blush worthy and I love it.

How does the first version shoot up the charts while the original and obviously superior version remain completely unknown in certain circles...Nashville that's how.

If anybody's put off by the concept here...don't be. This is a place where you'll here T.I. blasting out of pickup trucks and see black men in Cowboy boots and hats. Darius Rucker is a 100% Southern product. And it's been pointed out more than once that what is referred to as Thug Culture is really just Red Neck Culture inherited from white Southerners...who inherited it from the North of England. That there's a whole lot more to Southern Culture than violence motivated by honor is a subject for later. When Jimmy Rodgers left this state to share what we would come to know as Country Music with the world...people who heard him thought he was black. He come out of the same fish-fry culture as the blues players. Leadbelly played Cowboy songs too. Ludicrous has rapped on this one at some shows with Jason Aldien.

I say all that to say the idea of Country-Rap is not really that odd...that's all.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Lightning Bolt

Late in the afternoon yesterday, I was out in my little room off the carport...The King of Paintings Throne Room...where I produce masterpieces and whatever. It was rainin' and gettin' bumpier by the minute. It's actually nice sittin out there listening to the rain and thunder...at a distance anyway.

I'd been out there just long enough to light a cigarette and settle down when there was a tight, sharp, metallic bang...LOUD! like somebody had fired a 44 magnum inside the little metal trash can next to my desk. I could feel the air pressure change and my mouth tasted like I had a penny under my tongue.

I thought it struck the house but, it was about 100 ft. from where I was sitting in the neighbors yard.

Lightening strike 040

That is one dead loblolly.



Maybe the blog got hit in the same storm.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Mark it Off The List

Before anything else, I've gotta be a parent here for a second. I had my proudest moment as a Daddy last weekend.

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For the first time I was able to completely unload one my chores...on The Boy. Everybody said there would be moments like this...times when as a parent you are overcome with joy and anticipation for the future.

Last weekend was that moment for me.

Boy started his swimmin lessons this week too...

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Our biggest problem with him is that he has NO fear of anything except being made to take a break.

"You're going to have to watch him." the instructor said without smiling.

I spent my last day on the road for June today...it's 1:02am. Mark it off the list Clowns.

Six Months Without a speeding Ticket!!! Them cops probably think I'm dead.

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(The coolest sign I've ever seen)

Ate it for dinner...wore it all after noon. I'm gonna have to start carrying extra shirts...and britches.

Anyway..we're outta here tomorrow. Headed to Gulf Shores, Alabama.



First trip to the beach since nucklehead showed up.

If you need anything just contact Mary-Cathcart...she'll be lookin' after the place while we're gone.

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And so you'll all have something to hate on amongst yourselves...I leave you with another masterpiece.*

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I think that's everything. I'll probably be checkin' in from time to time.

Y'all have a good one.

EDIT: I finished this thing last night and have been staring at it all morning. I think this is absolutely my favorite so far (even counting the box). I don't know if it holds up balance wise, etc. (we have an actual Painter that follows the blog now...maybe he can sort that out) but I love this thing. Suggestion of objects and all.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Burial



Just 'cause I didn't get any Hound Dog Taylor today don't mean y'all should be deprived...



Un-touchable!