The last of the photo backlog.
Sorry folks, but I'm still busy getting settled in my new sober house, so I only have about a half hour to do this post. Hope you don't mind if I just put up the last of the things that got put aside over the weekend because I was moving and sick with a cold.
Although I didn't post on St. Patrick's Day, I was in downtown Northampton (where I now live) and stopped by that cool CD store Turn It Up.
One of the cool things about it is the store itself, which is carved out of the basement and requires you to navigate a steep set of stairs.
Northampton used to be filled with music stores, back when CD's were called "records." The internet however has made them increasing scarce. It's no mystery, because online it seems you can buy any music that was ever made. What music store can match that selection? Besides, online you don't even have to leave the house.
Still, I miss them, and will shed a tear when the last one closes. There is a music loving culture surrounding record stores and the people who shop and work in them. The retail record store has a personal ambiance that the internet will not replace. Oh well, no doubt there were those that mourned the closing of the local blacksmith shops, but progress must go on.
When I got to the door, I saw that they were having a special sale on Irish music.
In my email there appeared this message from former local TV investigative reporter Jim Polito.
Dear Tom,
I'm ashamed, I became unconscious on St. Patrick's Day and apparently someone took these pictures of me while I was out cold.
Jimbo
Enclosed were photos that are indeed both intimate and revealing.
Of his knee surgery.
Hey, I really like the latest style in skateboarding jeans.
98 year old Mother Superior from Ireland was dying.
The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her last journey
comfortable. They tried giving her some warm milk to drink but she refused it.
One of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen and remembering a
bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she
opened it and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.
Back at Mother Superior's bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother
drank a little, then a little more and before they knew it, she had
drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.
"Mother," the nuns asked with earnest, "Please give us some wisdom before you die."
She raised herself up in bed and said, "Don't sell that cow!"
5 comments:
Tom,
Turn It Up is a great place and so is Dynamite. There were so many of them in the 70's and 80's. Yeah, you can buy anything on the internet and my son is always downloading me spectacular stuff but I still buy CD's at those places. I can spend alot of time in them until my wife usually comes looking for me, when she's shopping in Noho. Here's another good Irish drinking joke:
Irish Lent
An Irishman moves into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry walks into the pub and promptly orders three beers. The bartender raises his eyebrows, but serves the man three beers, which he drinks quietly at a table, alone.
An hour later, the man has finished the three beers and orders three more. This happens yet again. The next evening the man again orders and drinks three beers at a time, several times. Soon the entire town is whispering about the Man Who Orders Three Beers.
Finally, a week later, the bartender broaches the subject on behalf of the town. "I don't mean to pry, but folks around here are wondering why you always order three beers?"
"Tis odd, isn't it?" the man replies. "You see, I have two brothers, and one went to America , and the other to Australia . We promised each other that we would always order an extra two beers whenever we drank as a way of keeping up the family bond."
The bartender and the whole town were pleased with this answer, and soon the Man Who Orders Three Beers became a local celebrity and source of pride to the hamlet, even to the extent that out-of-towners would come to watch him drink.
Then, one day, the man comes in and orders only two beers. The bartender pours them with a heavy heart. This continues for the rest of the evening. He orders only two beers. The word flies around town. Prayers are offered for the soul of one of the brothers.
The next day, the bartender says to the man, "Folks around here, me first of all, want to offer condolences to you for the death of your brother. You know-the two beers and all."
The man ponders this for a moment, then replies, "You'll be happy to hear that my two brothers are alive and well. It's just that I, meself, have decided to give up drinking for Lent."
Fantastic joke Tim!
Hey Tom,
Drive By Truckers at Pearl St. Friday night.
Here's one reason why they should not be missed:
Drive-By Truckers Lyrics
The Three Great Alabama Icons Lyrics
Profile • Awards • Quotes • Tourography
The Three Great Alabama Icons
Drive-By Truckers
I grew up in North Alabama, back in the 1970's, when dinosaurs still roamed the earth…
Speaking of course of the Three Great Alabama Icons… George Wallace, Bear Bryant and Ronnie Van Zant… Now Ronnie Van Zant wasn't from Alabama, he was from Florida… He was a huge Neil Young fan… But in the tradition of Merle Haggard writin' Okie from Muskogee to tell his dad's point of view about the hippies 'n Vietnam, Ronnie felt that the other side of the story should be told. And Neil Young always claimed that Sweet Home Alabama was one of his favorite songs. And legend has it that he was an honorary pall bearer at Ronnie's funeral… such is the Duality of the Southern Thing… And Bear Bryant wore a cool lookin' red checkered hat and won football games… and there's few things more loved in Alabama than football and the men who know how to win at it… So when the Bear would come to town, there'd be a parade. And me, I was one a' them pussy boys… cause I hated football, so I got a guitar… but a guitar was a poor substitute for a football with the girls in my high school… So my band hit the road… and we didn't play no Skynyrd either… I came of age rebellin' against the music in my high school parkin' lot… It wasn't till years later after leavin' the South for a while that I came to appreciate and understand the whole Skynyrd thing and its misunderstood glory… I left the South and learned how different people's perceptions of the Southern Thing was from what I'd seen in my life… Which leads us to George Wallace… Now Wallace was for all practical purposes the Governor of Alabama from 1962 until 1986… Once, when a law prevented him from succeeding himself he ran his wife Lerline in his place and she won by a landslide… He's most famous as the belligerent racist voice of the segregationist South… Standing in the doorways of schools and waging a political war against a Federal Government that he decried as hypocritical… And Wallace had started out as a lawyer and a judge with a very progressive and humanitarian track record for a man of his time. But he lost his first bid for governor in 1958 by hedging on the race issue, against a man who spoke out against integration… Wallace ran again in '62 as a staunch segregationist and won big, and for the next decade spoke out loudly… He accused Kennedy and King of being communists. He was constantly on national news, representing the “good‿ people of Alabama… And you know race was only an issue on TV in the house that I grew up in… Wallace was viewed as a man from another time and place… And when I first ventured out of the South, I was shocked at how strongly Wallace was associated with Alabama and its people… Ya know racism is a worldwide problem and it's been since the beginning of recorded history… and it ain't just white and black… But thanks to George Wallace, it's always a little more convenient to play it with a Southern accent. And bands like Lynyrd Skynyrd attempted to show another side of the South… One that certainly exists, but few saw beyond the rebel flag… And this applies not only to their critics and detractors, but also from their fans and followers. So for a while, when Neil Young would come to town, he'd get death-threats down in Alabama… Ironically, in 1971, after a particularly racially charged campaign, Wallace began backpedaling, and he opened up Alabama politics to minorities at a rate faster than most Northern states or the Federal Government. And Wallace spent the rest of his life trying to explain away his racist past, and in 1982 won his last term in office with over 90% of the black vote… Such is the Duality of the Southern Thing… And George Wallace died back in '98 and he's in Hell now, not because he's a racist… His track record as a judge and his late-life quest for redemption make a good argument for his being, at worst, no worse than most white men of his generation, North or South… But because of his blind ambition and his hunger for votes, he turned a blind eye to the suffering of Black America. And he became a pawn in the fight against the Civil Rights cause… For
tunately for him, the Devil is also a Southerner…
Tom,
I know those stairs! Last October, while on a date with a girl who liked to walk her dog around Northhampton, she tried to get her pooch to walk down them. He balked for quite some time before finally building up the courage.
Hi Tom.
I'm glad you are doing well and hope that U.Mass takes you back.
How Lucky that Jim Polito had John Corsetti as a Surgeon. I had John do my right Shoulder and he's a great surgeon. On my final visit to his office I was feeling pretty stiff in the shoulder area. I had to raise it on its own to get cleared from his office.
So I was sliding my arm up & down the wall to limber it up Before Dr. John came in the room and he said, "Okay, lets see you get it up! So I did. It went right up. He said "Hooray, you don't have to see me again". I said "I have a confession to make." He said, "What's that." I said, "This morning, I grabbed the Spray Viagara instead ot my underarm spray by mistake and it went right up!"
My neighbor has a friend that got a new knee. They cut off the old one and put one in that made her one and a half inches taller on one side. Now they call her "Eileen" (I Lean)! Enough of my bad humor.
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