TRAVELIN' TUESDAYS

This post today is about my Mom "Pete," my Dad, brothers Dave and Dick, sisters Susan, Nancy, and Dee-Dee (my mean little red haired sister) and me, all preparing to TRAVEL from our apartment in the St. Louis Housing Projects to a real home in St. Louis County!

MOVING DAY!!!

Lemmings! Little furry, mindless lemmings! That’s just what we were. Following the crowd.

How could they leave the city? How could they leave St. Louis? Didn’t they ever watch “Meet Me in St. Louis”?

Leaving was gonna kill me! The hot mean streets, wailing sirens, drunks lying in their puke, bright lights, fast cars, fast women, I loved it all. 

I was five.

Oh, How I remember the day. Yes, how I remember, remember, (echo) remember, (more echo) remember, ‘member, ‘member (lots and lots of echo) ‘ber, ‘ber...

Memory bubbles taking you back...baaack....baaaaaaack...

The year is now 1955!

Me: What’s goin’ on?

Mean Little Red-Haired Sister: We’re moving, stupnagle!

Dick: Ready for this lamp yet?

Dad: No.

Me: Where we movin’, Mom?

Pete: (Wrapping glasses in newspaper) Hackensack.

Me: No, really.

Pete: Go play with your coconut heads.

Dave: Where do you want the piano?

Sue: We don’t have a piano!


Dad: (Carrying one end of the couch) (Whining) Pete! How did I ever let you talk me in to movin...

Pete: (Said with no expression) Shut up, Paul.

Dad: (Smiling) Pete, I’d slap you silly if I knew I could take you in a fair fight.

Dick: Where should I put this lamp?

Pete: (Wrapping penguin salt shaker in newspaper) Put it where the sun don’t shine.

Nancy: Can I bring this doll?

M.L.R.H.S: That’s not your doll!! It’s Jane’s doll from next door!

Pete: (Very Loud) Po – lice man! Come and get Nancy.

Nancy: Well, it looks like my doll.

M.L.R.H.S: Shhuuuuure!

Nancy: Take a long walk off a short pier!

M.L.R.H.S: If you had a brain you’d be dangerous!

Nancy and M.L.R.H.S. stick their tongues out at each other and make that sound kids make when they do that.
I don’t think I can spell it but I’ll try. “Emyea!” Mom can’t stand it any longer. She grabs them both and says her most famous line.

Pete: “Kiss my foot on Grand and Olive!” Now you two kiss each other. (Anything would have been easier to face.
Horse-whipping, (how would you like to be whipped with a horse), firing squad, the Iron Maiden, the Rack, anything but having to kiss each other.

M.L.R.H.S. and Nancy: No! No! We’ll be good! Please, not that!
Yuck! 

(Mom, mercifully, lets them go.)

Dave: (Pointing to me) Are we taking this?

Pete: Leave it.

Me: Ha, Ha, Very funny. I wish we weren’t moving.

Dad: (Lifting one end of the T.V.) Wish in one hand and sh— in the other and see which one gets filled the fastest.

Me: Dad! Please! I’m eating a Baby Ruth.

Dad: (Putting the T.V. down) Pull my finger.

Me: No way! Once is enough! (I wonder if Dad ever realized that he was the only one who thought that was funny.)

Susan: I’m running away from home.

Pete: O.K., but remember you’re not allowed to cross any streets.

Sue: That’s not fair!

M.LR.H.S: (Wearing red, official Dale Evans, cowgirl hat) That’s life.

Sue: What’s life?

M.L.R.H.S: A magazine.

Sue: How much does it cost?

M.LR.H.S: A dime.

Sue: I only have a nickel.

M.L.R.H.S: That’s life.

Sue: What’s life?

M.L.R.H.S: A magazine.

Pete: (Using Ajax on the sink) Enough already!

M.LR.H.S: Can we say it one more time?

Pete: Let’s don’t and say we did.

Neighbor Kid 1: Where ya movin’?

M.LR.H.S: To the county.

N. K. 1: To the country?

M.LR.H.S: No, knucklehead. The count-tee! It’s a mixture of the city and the country.

N.K. 1: Huh?

M.L.R.H.S: Yeah, um, we will be, uh, riding ponies to school, catching fish and alligators for food, but we will still be within walking distance from the world’s biggest shopping
center.

N.K. 1: Wow!

M.LR.H.S: Oh, well, that’s not all! We will have gardens and flying cars and-----

Pete: And what?

M.L.R.H.S: Wha-Wha-What? I was, uh, just telling a little story. um-----

Dad: (Taking a bed apart) Pete! Where did Dave and Dick go?

Pete: Up Buck’s butt to see the sunrise.

Dad: Is this our baby?

Pete: (From the other room) What does it look like?

Dad: It has a deer face and a bear butt.

Pete: No, that’s Lorraine’s baby from two doors down.

Dad: (Baby on his knee, singing to baby; roughly to the tune of “Barnacle Bill the Sailor”). 
If the river was whiskey and I was a duck, I’d swim to the bottom and never come up.

Sue: (Disgusted) Great! It’s raining cats and dogs outside!

M.L.R.H.S: And I just stepped in a poodle.

Dad: (Holding baby on his head--he was fearless. Singing roughly to the tune of “Mama Don’t Allow No Banjo Playin’ Round Here”.)

Eagles they fly high in Bombay,
Eagles they fly high in Bombay.
Eagles they fly high and they putt putt (This sound made by making “fart” sound by blowing on babies belly) in your eye.
It’s a good thing cows don’t fly in Bombay.


Me: Would you tie my shoe?

Pete: Uh huh. (Ties shoe) Cows-ass? I mean, how’s that?

Me: Fine.

Dad: You know what?

Me: What?

(Dad got real close and looked like a fish-eye camera picture)
Dad: Chickens Butt. Ever see one on a goose?

With that vision of fowl butts on the brain, we finally got loaded up and moved to St. Ann...a St. Louis suburb...

(More next Tuesday)

♫MADNESS MUSIC MONDAYS♪♪

How would you like the job of making a trip to hell, to try and sell matches to the devil?!!

Well, that's what it's like trying to pitch a song you've written to the people on Music Row in Nashville!

The devil has enough matches, and Nashville has enough songs, according to the Nashville elite.

I went to Nashville twice, to play my demo cassette tapes for them, and it was kind of a nightmare of the worst kind for a hopeful musician.

Forget about getting inside the gigantic publishing companies, like Sony!

That is like trying to get into Fort Knox!

Even the small publishers have their doors locked off to the public, and they won't "buzz" you in unless they know you.

If by some miracle you talk (or trick) your way into a publisher's office, they give you about 5 minutes, and if by another miracle they play your song, it's only for 10 seconds! 

If they don't hear something they think is out of this world amazing, in 10 seconds, they shut it off!

At least, that was my experience.

I wrote the song below to express my feelings on how Nashville broke my heart, but to cover over the pain, I made a funny video with it, to try and make you believe Nashville didn't scar my soul for eternity and beyond!

If you listen to the words closely, you will be able to actually feel the agonizing heartache I suffered when all my hopes and dreams were shattered and trampled upon by cruel, greedy, people that were not very nice and friendly to this poor wretched wandering  minstrel. ( This was during my "minstrel period")

Listen up!

If you are thinking about traveling to Nashville, or New York, or L.A. to make it BIG as a musician...here's my advice..

GO FOR IT!

Seriously, even though I was heartbroken at the time, I would not trade the experience for anything!

It would have been more agonizing to never have gone, and always be wondering "what if!"

Also, you never know if maybe one day they'll be looking through their boxes and boxes of cassette tapes and find one of mine, give it a listen, and I'll become a "Nashville Cat" after all!

So, anyway, Gary the Glirkazoid is portraying me in the video, and I think he gives an Academy Award winning performance in recreating my anger and frustration after Nashville broke my wittle heart!

Get yourself some tissues, 'cause this is a real tear jerker!

Begin watching...

Oh, Nashville, You're breakin' my heart,

You never loved me from the start,

Ain't looking pretty,

Miss Music City,

Oh, Nashville, You're breakin' my heart.

Oh, Nashville, You're killin' my dreams,

Tease Town you really ain't what you seem.

You said I'd make it, girl why'd you fake it,

Naughty, naughty, Nashville, You're killin' my dreams.

I laid down my money to play in your game,

But you don't want me in your Country Hall Of Fame,

Hillbilly baby, I'm showing my age,

And I never played the Grand Ole Opry stage.

Oh, Nashville, You've taken my soul,

And made it black as Kentucky coal,

You watched my tears roll down mean ole Music Row,

Oh, Nashville, You've taken my soul.

Oh, Nashvville...You're breakin' my heart.

THANK YOU!

Doobie looked like Fabian. 

If you don't remember who Fabian was, you are probably too young to read this blog.

Anyway, Fabian was the Brad Pitt of the "Baby Boomer" generation. All the girls loved Fabian, and all the girls loved Doobie.
In fact, Doobie and I met because of this "girl problem" that he had.

Doobie moved to my school district when we were in the fifth grade. Every single girl in the fifth and sixth grade loved him! 

Well, needless to say, all the boys got jealous and
were planning to beat the "heiliger bimbam" out of him.

Okay, please forgive me for what I'm about to say, but I’m only stating a true fact.
I know I'm going to sound conceited, but this is part of the story. So don't get on my case when I say this. Alright?

I was very strong as a child. Not that big, but very
strong. At least, twice as strong as my peers. (Except maybe for Danny Thompson, but he didn't count because he was considerably older...almost 15 months if my memory serves me, and in the sixth grade)

I made it my goal in life to help kids that got picked on.
You know like the Lone Ranger, Superman and Zorro would have done when they were kids.
Sooooo,when the boys were about to kick the "holy moly" out of Doobie, I said, "don't do that", and they didn't, because I had a “rep”.

Doobie was very happy and we became best friends for life.

We were perfect best friends. 
He was hot, I was not.
He was a talker, I was a listener. 
He wore cool clothes, I didn't care what I threw on. 
His hair was perfect, mine was a-hay-stack after a windstorm. 
He was outgoing and friendly, I was super shy.

We were a great team!

I also liked the fact that he drew the "babes" around him.
Of course, I was too shy to talk to them, but I liked
being close to all of those beautiful " Doobie Groupies".

Let's just say that Doobie and I were like Poncho and
Cisco, Fred and Barney, Ralph and Norton, Thelma and Louise.

No! No! Wait a minute! I didn't mean Thelma and Louise!
No'. Scratch that!
How about, let's see... I've got it! Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Yeah, that's the ticket! Dean and Jerry, Martin and Lewis!

Doobie Test

1. Doobie was hideously ugly? Yes or No.
2. Doobie was twice as strong as his peers? Yes or No
3. Sadly, Doobie was much too shy to ever speak to a
person of the feminine gender. Yes or No.
4. Doobie looked like Fabio. Yes or No.
5. Doobie was actually Fabian, and I had to disguise his true identity for obvious reasons. True or False.


But, not so fast!
We are not through with Doobie yet.

Our school was having a talent contest. Sooooooo,
Doobie and me decided to sign up for it.
The Doobmeister could play two guitar chords on his
"git fiddle" and we both could sing passably, but that was not the best part by any stretch of the
imagination.
The afore mentioned "best part" was that we found the most super fantastic song in the whole wide worm to sing.

The epitome of an awesome, magnificent, yet sweet,
song for the ages.

Here are the words to this classic ballad of all ballads, but not nearly as good as when it was performed by the great Tom Lehrer:

The Irish Ballad
Disclaimer: This song was written (not by me) long ago, so any similarities between current events and the words to this politically incorrect song is purely coincidental!
This is the song Doobie and I sang, and these are the actual worms!

About a maid I'll sing a song,

sing rickety-tickety-tin,

about a maid I sing'a Song',

who didn't have her family long,

not only did she do them wrong,

she did everyone of them in, them in,

she did everyone of them in.

One morning in a fit of pique,

sing rickety-tickety-tin,

one morning in a fit of pique,

she drowned her father in the creek,

the water tasted bad for a week,

and we had to make do with gin, with gin,

we had to make do with gin.

Her mother she could never stand,

sing rickety-tickety-tin,

her mother she could never stand,

and so a cyanide soup she planned,

the mother died with a spoon in her hand,

and her face in a hideous grin,

a grin, her face in a hideous grin.

She set her sisters hair on fire,

rickety-tickety-tin,

she set her sister's hair on fire,

and as the smoke and flame rose high'r,

danced around the funeral pyre,

playin' a violin, -olin,

playin' a violin.

She weighted her brother down with stones,

rickety-tickety-tin,

she weighted her brother down with stones,

and sent him off to Davy Jones,

all they ever found were some bones,

and occasional pieces of skin, of skin,

occasional pieces of skin.

One day when she had nothing to do,

rickety-tickety-tin,

one day when she had nothing to do,

she cut her baby brother in two,

and served him up as an Irish stew,

and invited the neighbors in, -bors in,

invited the neighbors in.

And when at last the police came by,

rickety-tickety-tin,

and when at last the police came by,

her little pranks, she did not deny,

to do so she would have had to lie, and lying she 

knew was a sin, a sin, lying, she knew was a sin.

Well now, Doobie and me were kind of shocked when the song didn't even get past the "little old lady" teachers/screeners. 

We didn't know what " a-bomb-a-nation" meant, either!

It was sad because we really thought that song would
touch the hearts of our fellow students in a twisted sort of way.

Truthfully, me and Doobie were relieved. The thought of singing in front of the whole school, scared us sh__less!