Yo, Jimbo, so what’s with the cryptic reference to Colorado in the previous post?

I know you lost sleep wondering what I was referring to, so here are some of the preliminary deets.

I played drums and sang in a band in the sixties. I wrote about the band here and included links to the two sides of the record we made in 1966. [Note: I had to update the links to the songs in the referenced post, and they are type of files that may not work with certain types of players. They worked for me in iTunes. If I knew what the hell I was doing, I could probably fix it.]

Anyway, back to the story. This year, our biannual band reunion (We waited 34 years to have the first one in 2002) will be in Colorado, as was the case in 2002. Two of the guys live there. Typically, at these get-togethers, we spend a couple hours a night for two or three nights massacring playing songs and laughing our asses off. It’s just the guys, some spouses and old friends of the band from Jersey, so we can safely stink up the room.

This year, one of the Colorado guys (Hideo) surprised us by announcing that he booked the band to play at the Maya Cove Restaurant in Fort Collins. You know, like, in public. I almost shit a pickle when I heard that.

The back and forth e-mails went something like this:

Me: Yo, Hideo. Are you out of your mind? We haven’t played publicly since 1968! This could be a major train wreck.

Hideo: Don’t worry about it. I know the owner, and he knows we’re a bunch of old farts who want to have some fun. Besides, it won’t cost the owner anything, although we may get free drinks, but I’m not sure about that.

Me: [Slamming my head on the keyboard] Instruments! We’ll need a drum set. I sure as hell can’t bring mine on a plane to Colorado, and I don’t think your brother wants to schlep a keyboard all the way from Hawaii. We’ll need a sound system too. I think you’re nuts.

Hideo: No problem; we’ll rent stuff.

Me: What songs are we going to play? What about practicing? If we just walk onstage and start playing, we’ll never make it out of the place alive.

Hideo: No problem. We can circulate song lists via e-mail and we’ll get together a couple hours before the gig. Oh, and one more thing…..

Me: Oy! What!

Hideo: I gave the owner a copy of our record, and he wants us to perform the songs.

Me: [Still slamming my head on the keyboard and now wanting to strangle Hideo] Do you realize the last time we even played those songs was the day we made the record in 1966? Do the math. That was forty-four years ago.

Hideo: Stop worrying. It’ll be great.

So, there you have it. A bunch of old farts who haven’t played together publicly in more than forty years and who are spread across the U.S. from New Jersey to Colorado to Hawaii are putting together song lists and sharing them in e-mails in order to prepare to do two nights in Fort Collins, Colorado.

If you show up, you’ll be able to pick me out right away. I’ll be the guy wearing body armor and a hockey goalie mask, specially modified to protect against flying produce.

Update: Blogger pal, Jerry, converted the format on both sides of the record in the post linked above to MP3, explaining that the MP4 format is limited to Apple stuff. I don’t pretend to understand it all, but here they are in a format that should open on media players other than iTunes.

Baby Come My Way

Little Girl

I understand that the Fort Collins Police Department is already making plans to deal with the August Gridlock.

Are you going to be anywhere near this place in Fort Collins?

At this moment, I’m too tired to elaborate, but I just thought I’d ask.

More later.

Would you rather French kiss Rosie O’Donnell, or get a Man Wax?

Tough call. Sorry, but death is not an option.

Thanks to my buddy, Brian the Air Force Vet.

Seen during this morning’s groundpound.

Not exactly a “freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow,” eh?

Behold Todd Taylor setting the Guinness World Record for fastest banjo pickin’. Pretty farookin’ amazing.

OK, so what about some fast guitar pickin’?

Check out Dax’s place where he posted a video of Tiago Della Vega claiming the Guinness World Record for the fastest guitar pickin’. Although comparing Taylor’s banjo picking with Della Vega’s guitar picking is really an apples and oranges thing, it is nonetheless interesting to note that, in terms of sheer speed, Della Vega picks up where Taylor left off.

Yowza!

1. During this morning’s groundpound, I noticed that a woman was backing her car out of her driveway. In the past, having almost been hit by a person backing a car out of a driveway, I stopped to wait for her to finish backing out. She stopped the car, but never looked at me. Seeing as how her backup lights were still on and she was still looking straight ahead, I continued to wait, rather than step behind the ton of potentially moving steel.

After about ten seconds, she turned in my direction and waved her hand out the window while saying, “Ga Head.” I understood her perfectly.

2. It occurs to me that, when in Jersey Mode, I pronounce the contraction “we’re” as “wur.”

3. Similarly, when in Jersey Mode, I pronounce “I’m” as “ahm.”

I figure everyone else toowaks wrong.

Note: Contains some grownup language.

Thanks to da Chef of da Future

Yesterday, in anticipation of the snow storm that was predicted for today (the weather peeps were right about that) and for tomorrow (looks like they might be right about that too), I made a trip to lay in some essential supplies. No, I did not go to the supermarket for bread, milk and eggs (had ‘em already). Instead, following the lead of my pal, Mr. Bingley, I went to the Mondo Liquor and Wine Emporium where I picked up some items that are essential to waiting out the storm:

A bit more than a case of wine (a mix of cabernets, merlots and some pino grigio)

A bottle of Bulleit Bourbon (a most excellent libation)

A bottle of Old Forester Bourbon (never tried this one before)

A bottle of Firefly Peach Sweet Tea Vodka

A bottle of Firefly Mint Sweet Tea Vodka; and

A bottle of Red Stag*** (cherry-infused bourbon)

I love to shop at the Mondo Liquor and Wine Emporium.

I’m ready for the farookin’ storm, for shit sure.

*** Props to Leslie for suggesting that I try Red Stag. I tried it the minute I returned from the Mondo Liquor and Wine Emporium, and my conclusion is that it is dangerously delicious.

Hey, you’re Al Gore, aren’t you?

Why, yes I am.

So, you believe that carbon dioxide is a pollutant?

Absolutely. No doubt about it. There is a scientific consensus on that point, you know.

Dude, I need carbon dioxide to stay alive!

Ha! Obviously, you’re a denier and a right-wing nutcase.

Obviously, you’re a moron.

Wait. You don’t understand. When people do things that create carbon dioxide …

You mean, like, exhale?

You really are a Flat-Earther. Listen to me. When people do things that create carbon dioxide, they can buy carbon credits from one of my companies. I then keep most of the money and use a bit of it to hire undocumented workers to plant more trees.

Yeah, but all those new trees need carbon dioxide in order to stay alive.

Not a problem. I have an unlimited supply of carbon credits.

OK, I get it now.

Good.

You’re a moron and a con artist.

Is your Che Guerva tee shirt showing signs of wear, perhaps with multiple burn holes from dropped doobies, or has it become really gnarly from being in the state of unwashed for months at a time? Maybe it’s time to replace it with apparel bearing the image of another great thinker of the Sixties. If so, Jane’s store is the place for you. And, it’s not just tee shirts. You can also purchase tote bags, mugs and a particularly fetching clutch. Each item adorned with the image of Jane herownself striking a defiant pose.

I would note that nothing bearing this image is for sale. These aren’t for sale either.