DBP
Brought to you by the Number 80
-40 posts to go until someone gets happy
-20 until that someone finds out who they are and how happy they’re gonna get
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smokey, this should be some consolation to you:
Try though I might, I simply cannot get jazz (be-bop and freestyle anyway) but I STILL look up to people who do get it. To me, jazz is brainier than music has any right to be.
Jazz, compared to the kind of music I enjoy, is like an article in Physics magazine, compared with the funny papers.
Hey, I’m not proud. I like the funnies.
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Indiana trivia: John Mellencamp was raised in Seymour, Indiana, close by where I went to college. Now he was one of these classic podunk punks who love baiting the cops (nothing else to do anyway) and was always in trouble for something. Besides that though, he was generally just an asshole, as I was told by people who knew him when.
For that reason, no one around those parts thought John Mellencamp would ever amount to anything. But somehow he turned his experiences, his asshole-ness, and his musical ability into solid gold.
And welcome to it, I say. He was just calling it like he saw it, which is what you’re supposed to do.
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Rich, I hear ya on Lawrence Welk.
When I was a kid, the Lawrence Welk Show was one of the many hilariously stupid things I was forced to look at . . . but not allowed to laugh at.
Like when you’re in the front pew at church with your family, and the minister drops his glasses, and when he bends over to pick ’em up, he breaks wind a little.
But you’d better not laugh at that. No. Because if you do, it would only reaffirm before the eyes of God and the community what an anti-American atheistic little punk you are.
Amen!