Why I go to garage sales.

The last few weeks my wife and I have gone to a lot of garage sales. If you're city folk and you don't know what a garage sale is...basically individuals or families hold garage sales when have stuff they need to get rid of for whatever reason...maybe they're planning on moving and don't want to haul an extra few boxes on the way...maybe they've run out of space to store it...there are usually a lot of clothes offered for sale simply because they don't fit the original owner anymore...lots of reasons people have garage sales (which ostensibly take place in the seller's garage, although these days the term is mutually exchangeable with "yard sale", which naturally takes place in a yard). Because the merchandise is used and generally unwanted by the proprietor and because noone expects much of a profit, the prices are very, very low. Last week I got a Kurt Vonnegut novel foe a nickel.



Books are generally the only thing I look for at garage sales. If we drive by a garage sale and it looks like they probably don't have any books we'll drive on. We never buy clothes at them (I think it's kind of nasty when they try to sell shoes). My wife buys knick knacks and that sort of thing, but for me, it's all about the books. A few weeks ago I bought a box of books for a dollar. Of course all but one book was soaked in water and useless. But the one I wanted, a nice hardback edition of the Koran (in Arabic with English translation), was in very good shape. So I got a good book for a buck and the trouble of throwing away the ruined ones (which really stunk, I must tell you).



But this morning I really hit it big!











The first TEN of the original eleven "Wheel of Time" books by Robert Jordan. I read the first two about 10 years ago but stopped when I couldn't find a copy of the third at the used bookstore I frequented. I thought those two were pretty good and I've been meaning to collect the others.

I snagged 'em all in one fell swoop at a garage sale that was being conducted by a guy who used to be a good friend of mine when we were in school. We always did kinda like the same things (TV shows, movies, music) so I knew when I saw his sale ad in the paper that there would probably be at least a couple of things I might like.

The first thing I saw when I got there were these Jordan books. The first three were in paperback, but the remaining 7 were hardbacks in EXCELLENT shape.

The combined total price of those books, if purchased new, would have been over $200. Even if you were to buy them used, you'd still have to shell out at LEAST a hundred bucks...

I got all ten of them for TEN DOLLARS!!!!!

Can you believe that? Not $50...not $20...just $10.00, NO TAX!!!

And this, my friends, is why my wife and I always hop in the car on Saturday mornings, take the sale ads in the classifieds with us, and go "garage saleing".

Technorati, let's see what you can do...

As required, I'm posting this to claim my blog at Technorati.

Those of you who hoped this post would be a continuation of the string of wildly interesting stuff I'm known for will please ignore it. Go to the archives, my friends, see how this thing has evolved.

Technorati Profile

Boss, Bugaloos and an apology of sorts.

New album, "Magic", in stores October 2, 2007.

Need I say more?

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In regards to yesterday's "Madonna's gendercide" post...

As it turned out, the guy who told me about the quote didn't appreciate my little write-up. Of course he is one of those guys who believe that Madonna can do no wrong and gets a bit miffed whenever anyone slags her.

After re-reading it I decided that it does tend to lean towards mean-spiritedness at times. But the overall effect was designed to elicit a chuckle from all of those who can't stand her (myself included). As I told the Madonna disciple, my writing on this blog has taken a less-than-serious turn lately and anyone who has bothered to keep up with it for the last few days will testify to the truth of that statement.

So if I offended anyone with anything I wrote in the last post, I'm sorry.

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Talk about a blast from the past! I was 8 years old when The Bugaloos were on TV, flying through the sky with their bugaloo wings and singing happy songs. Had I been a little bit older I would have fallen in love with Joy (played by Caroline Ellis).

Yeah, looking at it now, 37 years later, of course it's pretty goofy. I'm sure 8-year-olds of today will see a similar goofiness in The Doodlebops and The Wiggles when they hit the 45 year mark.

For those of you old enough to remember, there's this, and you can find several other Bugaloos videos on YouTube:

THE BUGALOOS

And look...they even have a website!

BUGALOOS.COM

My inner child is ecstatic right now!

Madonna...advocated gendercide? You bet!

A fellow poster in an online community I participate in pointed out to me a recent comment by Madonna.
Ladies and gentlemen, the comment and my response:


Straight men need to be emasculated. I'm sorry. They all need to be slapped around. Women have been kept down for too long. Every straight guy should have a man's tongue in his mouth at least once. - Madonna



I'm sure all the straight guys who have fucked Madonna silly feel chastised by her remarks...maybe that doesn't make sense until you realize that the total number of straight men who have fucked Madonna silly is roughly equal to the population of San Francisco and Tuscon, Arizona combined.

Of course she'd wants to alienate all straight males who bother her...she's tired and she's sore.

The whole "straight guy needs to eat a man's tongue at least once" is just another example of her insatiable need to shock people (in this case, the vast majority of males on the planet, heterosexuals) in a desperate attempt to keep her name from showing up on the "Who Gives A Shit" list. She's completely oblivious to the fact that it's been perched at the top of that list ever since she broke up with Sean Penn.

Most straight guys are going to balk at the suggestion that they enjoy the juicy goodness of a man's tongue in their mouth. I would assume that any revulsion to such a fabulous idea would stem from the fact that...uh...let's seenow...they're...now what is the word I'm looking for?...oh, yeah: They're STRAIGHT!!! Why should a STRAIGHT man need to have another man's tongue in his mouth? You'd think that a STRAIGHT man would rarely, if ever, find himself in a position where he might snack on what we in the business refer to as "the homosexual tongue". This delicioius part of the homosexual male anatomy is defined as a tongue that doesn't belong in a straight man's mouth by mutual agreement between both hetero AND homosexuals who have been blessed at birth with the useful appendage of a tongue.

"Women have been kept down for too long"? ? ? What the hell is this? The early 70's? Surely women's rights have come a long way, baby, since those bra-burning days? I mean, we've got a woman running for president, for God's sake. We've got one trying to be the Speaker of the House. Where the hell are women "kept down"? Iraq, maybe? Afghanistan? Certainly not in the USA or any other similarly civilized countries.

Maybe she's planning on releasing a cover version of that once-famous Women's Lib anthem, "I Am Woman" by Helen Reddy. Shit...I'd bet there are countless women in the USA who have never even heard of the movement called Women's Lib. That's because it was a succesful movement. Women are NOT "kept down" anymore, and certainly not to the extent that they were during the bra-burning days.

"Women have been kept down for too long"...ah, that's rich, coming from a woman who decided early on that she wasn't going to be kept down...so she fucked her way up to the top of the ladder. It was all fine and good, looking down on the world from the top of that ladder, able to give the old whore routine a well-deserved rest. But now her schtick has grown tiresome to most people and she's been knocked a few rungs from her perch. Practically nobody cares anymore so she's not able to get back to where she was 10 years ago. She thinks she's being "kept down" and decides that she speaks for all the women in the world (although with women, you may notice, she doesn't see fit to differentiate homo- from heterosexual). "We're being kept down, gals. The straight male is walkin' all over us. We must stand up and fight against those who would prefer to have our tongues in their mouths instead of their gay friends' tongues!"

"I'm sorry", she says.

What? For being a dumbass? Or for opening your mouth and spewing out such ignorant nonsense? Or maybe you're saying you're sorry to the numerous straight males who have enjoyed the pleasure of your well-documented skills, sorry that you want to "slap them around", that you've decided "they need to be emasculated".
God damn, bitch, are you holdin' a grudge or something? Because that's a bit lop-sided to suggest that all us straight men should be castrated while all your gay friends can skip the clipping. Do you realize what you're suggesting, you stupid slut? Nothing less than the total annihilation of the human race within less than 200 years!!! Is that what you want? You're worse than Hitler.


It shouldn't be too hard to reason it out, but I doubt "Madge" has taken the time to think it over, to truly understand the implications of what she's advocating. Let me spell it out for you, Ms. Ciccone...Straight males get their balls whacked off and can no longer reproduce. Gay males ain't plantin' no seed in fertile soil. Gay women don't give a shit about the whole reproductive process. Tongues and toys for them, by golly. And the real losers in the whole deal are the straight females, ironically the main demographic that put Madonna on the map (trust me, most of the guys weren't buying that "Like a Virgin" shit...oh, we'd sit in front of the telly and watch the video, but none of us wasted our beer money on it). Cyndi Lauper once said that "Girls just want to have fun..." to which Madonna replies, "FUCK the girls! Oh, yeah, they've been kept down for too long...do you want to know what my solution is? Eradicate an essential part of the reproductive process (and any "fun" that might come along with it) UNTIL YOU ALL DIE OUT!!!"...

Oh, but maybe Madonna is just championing the bi-sexual community. That seems more like it, since I can't quite wrap my mind around the concept that the Material Girl is Pol Pot reincarnated. Maybe she's thinking that the "all or nothing at all" guys, the ones who may have really enjoyed a tongue lunch with a side of tits and ass, will be the ones who will populate the earth from now on. And bi-sexual females will be the only ones who'll care to bed these boys down.

If there is a "genetic disposition" that makes a person homosexual, then I'd like to know if there is a similar gene that makes a person bi? I have it on good authority (the solid word of an educated gay friend of mine) that there is no such thing as a bi-sexual man. Just homosexual men in denial. I admit that I see the logic in that. So what happens in Madonna's post-apocalyptic world when the ratio of bi-sexual males a.) have become enlightened as to their inborn sexuality or b.) get tired of sleeping with bi-sexual females?

Either way the prospects look grim for us poor straight folks. "Slapped around" indeed! Okay, maybe it isn't the total eradication of all humankind. Maybe she sees it as the bi-sexual triumph of the world, where she will, in the future, looked back upon as a liberator and even a goddess of a "heterosexual-free" civilization. Those of us who enjoy the wonderously natural pleasures of the opposite sex will be swept up in a holocaust of Biblical proportions.

Bikers are FUCKED!

I have taken into account that some of the off-spring in these bi-sexual unions may turn out to be straight males. Why, you say, couldn't they help the AC/DC community repopulate the planet?

I'll tell you why. BECAUSE THEY'RE STRAIGHT! That propensity alone qualifies them for emasculation in a world governed by Madonna's laws. And those bi-sexuals who prefer women over men (are there any?) had better watch out, because if the powers-that-be decide that you're a little TOO straight, yer gonna get cut.

So FUCK YOU, Madonna. I hope all of your straight friends (if you have any left) tell you to fuck off, including the ones who weild the power at your record label (you know, the ones who put the money into your own two-bit Maverick Records shit-manufacturing company). Hopefully these high ranking individuals will come to the same realization that I have in regards to your planned gendercide and close their wallets to one who has already wasted more of their money than the most adept swindler could have. And what do they have to show for it? Some of the most worthless music ever committed to the Compact Disc medium, a fame-whore whose lifestyle contradicts the idea that "women have been kept down for too long", and perhaps even worse, a dumb fuck who has nothing to say but can't seem to keep her mouth shut.

For too long we have had to endure this woman's bullshit. The very ones who made her famous have been alienated for so long by her conjured controversy that they wish she would just bow out with some grace, kinda like Patti Smythe (from the long forgotten band Scandal) did. Her sagging record sales over the last several years are proof that the ones who once loved her have become sick and tired of her, it's not just that the records are no good anymore...which they're not, but that's just my opinion of them.

On the other hand, it is NOT my opinion that Madonna, with this recent comment, has gone too far. If the straight world gets pissed (which is her transparently obvious motive), well so they should. She wants 'em slapped around, forced to snack on gay (or bi-sexual) tongue, CASTRATED (for God's sake) and to top it all off, she wants 'em eradicated. I'd say they have a pretty strong case for being pissed at her.

Well, she can have her demented ideas, she can dwell on 'em like some dysfunctional teen memorizing "Mein Kempf". She can fantasize and play out the wicked schemes in her head like it was some kind of bi-sexual Dungeons & Dragons game. Fantasies never hurt anyone, as long as they remain within the realm of fantasy.

You do that, Madge. BUT KEEP IT TO YOURSELF! Besides, there's likely to be less resistance to your plan on the hetero side if you don't blab it to everyone.

It's dooms-day for us...we'd just as soon not know.

Toby Keith: a couple of good songs, can he do it again?

It was my confirmed opinion throughout the last several years that Toby Keith was an obnoxious buffoon with very little talent. I thought that the man simply could not sing very well. There were probably one or two exceptions ("Should Have Been a Cowboy", "American Soldier"), but his vocals in the majority of his songs were substandard at best. A perfect example is probably his biggest hit, the stars-and-stripes wavin' ass-kicker "Courtesy of the Red White & Blue" (I think that was the title...I was lucky enough to avoid it fairly well). And some of the stuff that came after that was so commercial and contrived that my low opinion of Mr. Keith was cemented ("How Do You Like Me Now?", "Who's Your Daddy?")

It didn't help that he built a monsterously huge eatery in the heart of the burgeoning Bricktown district. "Toby Keith's I Love This Bar & Grill" may well serve a good meal and might even feature a halfway decent "local" band (though I think they import a lot of bands from Texas). I confess, I've never set foot in the place. My decision to avoid it was rooted in my excessive dislike for Keith.

But here's the deal, and it is something I'm just now coming to grips with...I actually really like Toby Keith's last couple of singles. A lot.

The first one, "High Maintenance Woman" is not all that far removed from the "contrived, comercial" stuff I eluded to earlier. But it's got a better melody, better hooks, and most surprisingly, much better vocals than the earlier songs. I wanted to hate this song at first (and the lyrics are, for the most part, pretty dumb) but in the back of my mind was a nagging suspicion that it might not be as bad as I was thinking it was. I did NOT want to yield to that line of thinking, but my resistance finally broke down when I heard the song a few times without having to see the accompanying video (most of the new country I hear is initially viewed on CMT). Now I love the song.

God help me.

It was Toby Keith's most recent single, "Love Me If You Can" that forced me to forgive all the musical sins of his past, up to and including his naming an album "Big Dog Daddy" (how ridiculous is that?). The song has the same high points that "High Maintenance Woman does (albeit it's not the same kind of song stylistically), excellent melody, good vocals...but unlike the last single, this one has very good lyrics. It has that stubborn conservative bent to it, but it's nothing like the bullying "Red White and Blue". It's a more personal song than that one, and is more or less an ode to self-confidence. It's going to be considered "classic country" in 15-20 years, I guarantee it.

I wouldn't be surprised if Keith's next release is so dismal that it swings my opinion of him back into the "abyssmal" range. It's very possible that he just got lucky with these last two songs (admittedly I am in the minority as far as the appreciation of Toby Keith, especially in there parts, where he is looked upon as the greatest thing to come from Oklahoma since Garth Brooks). I'm not trying to jinx him with low expectations, in fact I hope his quality song streak continues. Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if his music veered back into what's become the typical modern Nashville muck.

We shall see.

A couple of other acts I generally hate who have put out songs I like recently:

Big & Rich: "Lost In This Moment"...Words have not the ability to describe how much I've despised these two bozos. It pains me to admit that this is a damn fine song. It won't wind up on a "Classic Country of the Early 21st Century", but to say it's the best thing Mr. Big and Mr. Rich have ever done is an unparalled understatement.

Keith Urban: "I Told You So"...I always considered Urban to be country music's pretty boy version of Bon Jovi (that was before Jovi's recent attempts to break into the country market himself...who knew?). Everything I've heard from him sounds like mainstream pop/rock with a banjo or something thrown in so it can be loosely be classified as country. Actually, "I Told You So" more or less follows the same formula, but it has guts, it doesn't try so hard to be country.

3 "essential" facts about The Nixons.

3 little known facts acout 90's rock band The Nixons.

1. When they were just starting out they called themselve Is That An Animal? They even had t-shirts made with that band name on 'em.

2. Bassist Ricky Brooks is a Mormon. Before he adopted the black-dyed-hair-in-the-face legs-spread-standing-in-place rock-star pose he used to have punkish hair and he jumped around on stage like he was doing the pogo dance. He got so out of hand that would knock over his mic stand on many occasions.

3. They were one of the most popular "frat party" bands in Oklahoma just before they broke nationally. A man named David Box was their booking agent. Box was not well-loved by the local musical community, as he had a monopoly on all the better venues. He was pretty much an asshole as well.

I used to run into these guys a lot when our bands were peers. Each one of them were really nice guys, especially guitarist Jesse Davis (they had a different drummer back then so I don't know about the ones after he left).

A good friend of mine, Rick Withrow, ran sound for them a few times when they were still Is That An Animal. I was Rick's assistant and that's when I first met them. They were playing at some Tulsa club in the upstairs area (the extemely heavy power amp, which we christened 'The Widowmaker', was a bitch to get up that narrow staircase).

I'm not really sure but I think they changed their name to The Nixons at the request of David Box, who thought the original name would be too difficult to promote. That may not have been the case, but it was the rumour that was going around at the time.

Personally I liked Is That An Animal much better and have always thought that The Nixons was a stupid band name.

It is my personal opinion that practically everything about their sole hit "Sister" is a direct rip-off of Pearl Jam.

But you decide:

THE NIXONS: "SISTER"

"3 for the road!"

Looking back on my illustrious career as a legendary music pioneer I realize that I've made a lot of people happy, pissed a lot of people off and treasured up a veritable cornucopia of memories that grind the ole Nostalgia Machine into high gear. The smoky bars I've played in, the cracking noise of pool balls shattering the delicate intensity of our unique version of "Desperado", the obnoxious banter of friends loudly congratulating each other for drinking beer, the occasional cat fight and the more frequent clashes between inebriated males, the club manager sauntering up to the stage and telling the rhythm guitar player that we've got to "turn that damn shit DOWN!!!"...

Memories galore. More than I can even remember, but the ones that survived the war with cannabis are really swell. And the best of all those memories are the ones starring the many, many women who came into my life as a result of my status as a legendary music pioneer. I'll kick the ass of any man who dares call them "groupies". They were, in the tradition of Cameron Crowe's documentary "Almost Famous", "Band-Aids" (and it is the opinion of every band I've ever been in that Crowe based his film on us).

Today my mind harks back to a winter evening in December of 1981. The group I played with back then was called Chaney Gong (at least that's the band I was a member of in late '81). The show was over and I was relaxing in the back of the Econoline van we used to haul equipment with. The other guys were having a couple more beers before last call. Nobody minded my absence, as they all knew I wanted to freebase some cocaine in private. They were nothing if not considerate.

Our show that night was incredible. We were hot as shit, I tell you, and there was a huge clan of women gathered near the stage. I knew I could...uh..."befriend" any of them I chose to. I figured I'd go back into the bar when I was nice and stoned, look over the potential "friends" and invite them to the Econoline to freebase a little more coke with me.

But I was saved the trouble as, one by one, these three gals came a-knockin' on the door...

She couldn't have been a day over 17. I don't know how in the world she made it into the bar, but she'd been there all night. I remember seeing her throwing darts with a couple of lesbians who were regulars. For that reason alone I had crossed her off my list. But here she was, all tanked up and ready.

"Are you freebasing coke?", she asked.

"Yep, sweetcheekers, that's what I've been doing the last 30 minutes. I'm just about useless, but if there's anything you want, say the word. I can probably git 'r' done."

"Are you sure? It's kind of asking a lot", she said.

"You name it, baby, you got it", I said with a disgusting leer in my eyes. It didn't seem to frighten her though, as she continued...

"Do you think you could loan me $20 cab fare? My ride has done gone off with some guy who says he only wants to have sex with her once before throwing her away like a dirty dish rag."

I'm sure she could see my countenance sag in disappointment...truth was I was thinking she might make a nice dirty dish rag herself. But I gave her the money anyway.

I didn't even have a chance to ask her name because she disappeared as soon as the cash left my hand and found it's way to hers.

It was then, just as she was walking out the side door, that another beauty came in. In many ways I found her more attractive than the last sweetie, though she was obviously a little bit older. Hey, no problem! I can "befriend" a teen some other time, I thought, maybe under more private circumstances (I mean, who knew when the rest of the band might come stumbling out...I may be shameless, but I wouldn't want them to see me fraternizing with a minor...you know what they say: "15 will get you 20").

I made sure I got this one's name before anything else.

"Sadie Young", she purred like a cat in heat, "Everyone calls me 'Sexy Sadie'."

Now some folks might think she was sexy and some folks might not. I tended to side with the former opinion. She didn't look like a drug head, so I didn't ask her if she wanted to shoot up some China White I had hidden in the glove compartment of the "Love Van".

As I began to unzip my trousers, I said, "Okay, baby are you ready to play?"

"Actually, I am," she replied, though she was not looking at me. She was staring out the window at a group of people who were milling about by a car, passing something around and coughing a lot. "They're having an after-hours skiffle tournament in the bar and I can't afford the registration fee. Have you got a 10 dollar bill you can loan me until I beat the pants off of 'em?"

I quickly pulled on my own pants, getting them zipped up just before she turned to see me.

"Awww, come on," she purred. "Pleeeeeeese?"

I could understand why they called her "Sexy Sadie". I wish I could have explored the etymology of that name a little more, but there was a knock on the door.

I whipped out my wallet and pulled a crisp bill from it. "Here's twenty, Sadie. Double or nothing, eh?"

Ms. Young walked out, and in walked this woman, climbing the van's doorstep with a slight wobble. She wore an old-fashioned cream-colored dress the likes of which I had not seen anywhere but in the nursing home where my great grandmother lived. The distinct odor of talcum powder wafted from her whole body, and her teeth didn't seem to fit quite right in her mouth.

"Hi there," she said, "I'm Anita Biggun."

"Uhh...nice to meet you, Ms. Biggun", I stammered. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, well, I have to be honest. You know honesty is the best policy. I saw those other two girls leavin' here..."

"Oh, I see", I said. "You need to borrow some money. How much do you need?"

"Money?", she said with an incredulous look on her face. "Heavens no! What do I want money for? I want to fuck you like an animal."

I was speechless. Literally I could not say a word. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and I really didn't know how to deal with it.

"Do me like a dirty dog," she said, meaning every word. "And when you're dead beat I want you to get out yer works and jab me with that smack stick you keep hidden in your guitar case".

The night finally came to an end.

I was 40 dollars poorer and nursing the worst hangover in the history of the universe, but one thing I knew I'd never forget...

Anita Biggun got what she needed, even if I didn't get exactly what I wanted.

Observations on my regal journey.

I just updated the playlist on the music player to your right (and, consequently on the more functionable one at my MySpace page). I came to the conclusion that there wasn't enough variety and some of the songs were just not really appropriate for the venue (for instance, I love Aphex Twin, but his music is best enjoyed through a nice set of headphones or big, bassy speakers...).

Still a lot of Sigur Ros to be enjoyed...Unfortunately it looked as if "Glosoli" may be gone, but I'm hoping it's only temporary. Mark Kozelek is also still well represented, too. Of the new additions, I am most pleased with the Bongwater stuff. I only wish I could have been able to get more of that.

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The heat wave of the last week shows no signs of letting up in the foreseeable future, which means that my family and I are suffering intensely, sweating buckets and spending the majority of our time in the main bedroom where we've got a little window unit installed. If you've been in there for a little while and you walk out the door into the hall it feels like you're walking into a hot oven. It's insane.

The problem is that out heating/air conditioning unit has been broken down for some while (we got through the winter using small gas heaters in the bathrooms). I should have the funds to have it repaired within the next month, but we may have all melted by then.

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I had to get up early this morning to use the bathroom (information I'm sure you all needed to know) when I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was 5:30 AM.

I'd really wanted to see the Great Perseids meteor shower that's been going down over the last few days. But I ain't no night owl, and those suckers were falling between 1:00 and 6:00 AM. My dreams, I reckoned, would suffice.

But like I said, my urinary urge forced me from my slumbers, and I decided, since it wasn't quit 6 o'clock, that I would go outside, look to the sky and hopefully glimpse a few, since last night was the peak of the whole thing.

I saw 4 of 'em. I think I may have seen 3 more, but I couldn't be sure, they were so small. All of them I was lucky enough to see were small, not as big as any of the falling stars I've seen in my days.

It was still neat.

"My dear, sweet Patricia."

I met Patricia Howard last year around this time. She was teaching Sunday School at the Nazarene church when I asked the pastor to introduce her to me. He was hesitant to comply because he felt that I would be a bad influence on her. He took me into his office for a private conference in which he asked me what my intentions were with Patricia, who, he said, was like a daughter to him.

"I'm glad you asked", I responded. "That's a sure sign of a minister doing his job when he's so concerned with his congregation." I didn't say this to mock or belittle him, though it might have looked that way to a casual obsever.

"Truth be told", I continued, "I just like a girl with short hair, glasses and a pretty face." Which was the honest-to-God truth. Ms. Howard met all the criteria, I informed the preacher, and I was anxious to find out if there was a tiger in her tank. I suspected there was.

The pastor coughed, straightened up his tie and told me, looking straight in my eye, "She's a good girl, Jimbo. Don't do her no wrong!"

"That's the furthest thing from my mind, sir. I don't know what in the world could have given you the impression that I meant to do her harm. I just think she's one sexy mamma-jamma who might want to rock and roll all night with me. And who knows? If she can hang with me on that, maybe we can party every day! What do ya say?"

He cleared his throat. Fact is he had every reason to think my contact with her might be harmful. Not harmful like a serial killer is harmful. Not even harmful like a deranged pervert could be harmful. It's just that he knew how cruel I could be. He knew all about my sordid past, as I had confessed it all to him throughout the years. He knew the real reason I kicked my first wife out of the house. He knew about all the toad frogs I killed when I was a kid. Most of all, he knew how I liked to manipulate the minds of pretty young women and degrade them with verbal abuse. I'd tried to convince him that all that was in the past, I was a changed man, I wouldn't hurt a flea. Whether he believed me or not was anybody's guess, but I guess he was willing to give me one more chance because he did introduce me to Patricia.

I took her to dinner that night and she seemed rather shy and reserved. She spoke very little. At first I thought she was just uncomfortable around me, as she had every right to be since the reverend had told her what a bastard I was. But I thought, "no...she's been warned. She knows I'm an asshole. It must be something else".

I ordered another bottle of wine, poured her a glass, and decided to break the ice.

"Is there something on your mind?", I asked her. "Don't you like the restaurant?"

"Oh, I suppose it's alright", she replied, but I could tell she was not digging the scene. I mean, four bottles of wine between the two of us and she still had that "I'd-rather-be-anywhere-but-here" look on her face.

I was willing to do anything to put a smile back on that pretty face. What had started out being a mild fascination with a Sunday School teacher that I found quite attractive had grown into the desire to make her my own, to give her a ring, to give up my nights of rocking and rolling, to forsake my daily partying, to spend the rest of my life with her, just as I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with countless other girls I'd met throughout the years.

"Is there somewhere else you'd like to go?"...I was more than willing to oblige. "Just tell me."

"Actually...",...a pause..."there is..."...another pause, this one pregnant.

"Yes? Yes?"

"What I really want", she said with a serious look on her face, "is to go out back to the alley, befriend a couple of winos, burn a fire in a trash can, roll around on the ground just long enough to soil or clothes, barter with a junkie for some used needles and shoot up some crystal meth. Then you can take me home and we'll call it a night."

I was stunned.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, there was only one wino in the alley and he wasn't inclined to be friendly. There wasn't a trash can in sight so we had to be content with lighting a couple of old newspapers and watching them burn. We were, however, able to get our clothes soiled and we did obtain some used needles. I don't think the guy who we got them from was a junkie, though. But he was willing to trade us two nasty syringes for all the jewelry Patricia was wearing (he also got away with my wallet, but that's another story).

Of course, the highlight of the evening was filling those suckers up with the dope and sticking 'em in each others' arms. What a feeling that was! So much better than the date I had planned out. And you know what? As good-looking as I thought she was the first time I laid eyes on her during an evening worship service, she was positively stunning when seen through the haze of a good narcotic buzz.

I took her home much later that night...in fact, it might have been the next morning, as time had lost it's value by that point. She had won my heart. I made a promise to myself that I would never degrade her, nor would I ever abuse her, physically or mentally, no matter how much I might want to. Most importantly I decided I would ask for her hand in marriage the next time I saw her.

But noone ever saw her again.

Chris Isaak: "Forever Blue"

Chris Isaak seems to have a reputation as a "mainstream crooner". I'm sure it was a result of his hit "Wicked Game". But anyone who listens to that song as something more than background music for a lover's tryst will tell you...there's a dark undercurrent throughout the song that's more in the spirit of David Lynch's "Blue Velvet" than "The Best of VH1 Superstars".

That darkness manifests as heartbreak on "Forever Blue". The opening track sets it all up: "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing". Apparently it must have truly been a "bad, bad thing" because the outcome saw Chris alone and lonely, often bitter, more often wallowing in the self-pity that everyone is entitled to when a relationship goes sour. She might have done a bad thing, but it becomes apparent that pride and a stubborn refusal to forgive her have plunged Mr. Issak into an abyss of despair and regret. Soon enough he'll be wishing "Baby" could overlook his tough-man exterior and crawl back to him.

Yes, it is a relentless "break-up" album and (I'm surprised to be saying this) it's on a paar with Red House Painter's "Rollercoaster", which is one of the greatest of all time. Isaak manages to capture the mood vocally every bit as effectively as Mark Kozelek in his better moments. But where Kozelek draws from no discernible influences in his singing, Chris Isaak is very obviously influenced by the likes of Roy Orbison & Elvis Presley. Still, though the inspirations are very evident, he nonetheless manages to pull off his own style.

There is, however, very little the music shares in common with RHP. That's more than okay. Isaak employs an extremely vibrato heavy sound on the guitars, with a slowed-down "jangle". It sounds like something you might here on a record from the late 50's/early 60's, but the modern fidelity kicks it up a notch. As I alluded to earlier, these songs would have fitted perfectly in one of David Lynch's earlier films...now that I think of it, Lynch did use "Wicked Game" in "Wild at Heart". That was a perfect pairing of atmosphere, and any of the songs on "Forever Blue" would have qualified. There were times, while listening to the album, when I thought it would not be too far fetched to wonder if Angelo Badalamenti had a hand in the composition of a couple of these songs.

Long story short...Chris Isaak is NOT mainstream, he IS criminally under-rated, he IS a song stylist worthy of attention, "Forever Blue" is an album worth owning, and finally...I wish I'd had HBO (Showtime?) when his show was on the air. I would have loved it.