I'm ticking myself...
...I do that often. The Northerners and Aussies think that I'm literally "tickling" myself, physically taking my fingers and wiggling them in my armpits or some other such ticklish spot. But that's not what I mean. In these parts to tickle simply means to make one laugh.
And often I simply tickle myself sitting here all alone. Thank God I don't wait for someone else to tickle me. I would never so much as smile if I depended on people around me for laughter.
Now I forgot why I tickled myself. Shit. I was gonna write about that. I have got to learn to take notes and to stop digressing. I may start out to tell you about a sore toe and end up discussing gerbils up the ass.
I was speaking to this dude earlier who said that the gerbil up the ass story is a total fabrication and that no one ever really did stick a gerbil up his ass. (Or her ass...sorry.)
I retorted, "Maybe not up Richard Gere's ass...but someone, at some time surely DID shove a gerbil up an ass...even if it was just some drunk redneck in West Virginia who heard the rumor and thought it might be fun. I've met drunk rednecks. There's nothing they won't try.
See how I can end up on gerbils up the ass? I wasn't thinking about gerbils or asses when I started this post.
Anyway...forget about the gerbils. In the last post I mentioned how I didn't really like country music and I was told:
"...That's not your fault, that's the doing of the Nashville Music Industrial Complex. First I'll address what isn't country music. The countryfied pop of the 1970s on is not country. Never mind what Nashville tells us this is not country. Nashville, appearantly ashamed of its roots and determined to erase all traces of what built the fanbase began to add strings in the 1970s to add a trace of class in their eyes. Seeing that their listeners bought it they then countrified pop music and thus this is what a generation has been fed as country. Real country has several recurring themes. Broken hearts, adultery, substance abuse, violence, murder, unrequited love, desperation these are the things that make real country music..."
Well, I do understand what the man was saying...but I must defend my roots. I have indeed heard real country music...my grandparents not only listened to it, my grandmother played it on her guitar. Her sister (my great Aunt Virginia) was a country singer back in the 30's. She and her band were on the road traveling somewhere up in the mountains of Virginia and they got a flat tire.They pulled over to the side of the road and while they were fixing the tire, a bigger vehicle came around a curve and hit them. My great aunt was killed. Family legend says that she wrote the song, "You are my Sunshine" and sold it for next to nothing.
I looked that up on the computer once and I found something that said Hoyt Axton wrote it so I immediately stopped looking any further. I just assumed the legend was false. Then one day, quite by accident, I found another site that said that someone else wrote it. I forget the name but it wasn't Hoyt Axton. Then I looked further and found another claim. So, now I'm back to believing the legend. I have one more great aunt from that family and I had better call her before she isn't here to ask. I hope I get some sort of answer to that. I'll let you know if I do.
Anyway, I don't mean to steal this line but...I was raised on country music. But when I was 11, I fell in love with Donny Osmond. Shortly after that I got this hormonal surge and I never went back to country music. Those guys were all icky looking and even Rod Stewart looked good to me. I couldn't work up a healthy lust for Frank Zappa, but I could certainly get a woody when Jim Morrison took the stage.
And I've even been around people who took me to flatfoot bar-b-ques. I've flatfooted a few times but only after drinking massive quantities of moonshine. That's what it takes to flatfoot.
Flatfooting is a good dance for drunk people. You keep a better center of gravity.
Oddly enough, the first time I flatfooted was in a bar outside of Fort Drum in WAAAAYYYYY upstate New York. It was like Canada north. I think it was Jell-O shots that time. The bartender knew the chick that I was with and he let us eat the fucked up Jell-O shots before the crowd came in. He gave us each a can of whipped cream and a bunch of bent Jell-O shots and we just chowed down on those suckers. I was quite drunk when the opportunity to flatfoot popped up.
It was a "What the hell!" moment and further evidence in support of my claim that somewhere, some one, at some time, shoved a gerbil up their ass.
See? Ass gerbils CAN find their way into the conversation quite a little bit.
Anyway, it is my contention that hormones killed country music a very long time ago. They took all the ugly people out of the picture and now all you have is Faith Hill and...some good looking country music dude. I don't know any off the top of my head but I'm sure they're out there.
I think the reason that I liked Townes Van Zandt is that while he does sing about sad songs...he sings more about the feelings than he does the actual incidents themselves. I may know how he feels but I don't know the name of his Lucille. And I don't know what the hell Lucille did to Townes, but I know exactly how he felt when she did it.
Bruce is sort of like that too. Although he can get specific. But when he does, he does it with such fitting music that I get into it. I don't know. I just know what I like as well as what I don't like.
Damn...the phone is ringing and it's a really cute guy so I have to go now.
OK...that was fun.
...I do that often. The Northerners and Aussies think that I'm literally "tickling" myself, physically taking my fingers and wiggling them in my armpits or some other such ticklish spot. But that's not what I mean. In these parts to tickle simply means to make one laugh.
And often I simply tickle myself sitting here all alone. Thank God I don't wait for someone else to tickle me. I would never so much as smile if I depended on people around me for laughter.
Now I forgot why I tickled myself. Shit. I was gonna write about that. I have got to learn to take notes and to stop digressing. I may start out to tell you about a sore toe and end up discussing gerbils up the ass.
I was speaking to this dude earlier who said that the gerbil up the ass story is a total fabrication and that no one ever really did stick a gerbil up his ass. (Or her ass...sorry.)
I retorted, "Maybe not up Richard Gere's ass...but someone, at some time surely DID shove a gerbil up an ass...even if it was just some drunk redneck in West Virginia who heard the rumor and thought it might be fun. I've met drunk rednecks. There's nothing they won't try.
See how I can end up on gerbils up the ass? I wasn't thinking about gerbils or asses when I started this post.
Anyway...forget about the gerbils. In the last post I mentioned how I didn't really like country music and I was told:
"...That's not your fault, that's the doing of the Nashville Music Industrial Complex. First I'll address what isn't country music. The countryfied pop of the 1970s on is not country. Never mind what Nashville tells us this is not country. Nashville, appearantly ashamed of its roots and determined to erase all traces of what built the fanbase began to add strings in the 1970s to add a trace of class in their eyes. Seeing that their listeners bought it they then countrified pop music and thus this is what a generation has been fed as country. Real country has several recurring themes. Broken hearts, adultery, substance abuse, violence, murder, unrequited love, desperation these are the things that make real country music..."
Well, I do understand what the man was saying...but I must defend my roots. I have indeed heard real country music...my grandparents not only listened to it, my grandmother played it on her guitar. Her sister (my great Aunt Virginia) was a country singer back in the 30's. She and her band were on the road traveling somewhere up in the mountains of Virginia and they got a flat tire.They pulled over to the side of the road and while they were fixing the tire, a bigger vehicle came around a curve and hit them. My great aunt was killed. Family legend says that she wrote the song, "You are my Sunshine" and sold it for next to nothing.
I looked that up on the computer once and I found something that said Hoyt Axton wrote it so I immediately stopped looking any further. I just assumed the legend was false. Then one day, quite by accident, I found another site that said that someone else wrote it. I forget the name but it wasn't Hoyt Axton. Then I looked further and found another claim. So, now I'm back to believing the legend. I have one more great aunt from that family and I had better call her before she isn't here to ask. I hope I get some sort of answer to that. I'll let you know if I do.
Anyway, I don't mean to steal this line but...I was raised on country music. But when I was 11, I fell in love with Donny Osmond. Shortly after that I got this hormonal surge and I never went back to country music. Those guys were all icky looking and even Rod Stewart looked good to me. I couldn't work up a healthy lust for Frank Zappa, but I could certainly get a woody when Jim Morrison took the stage.
And I've even been around people who took me to flatfoot bar-b-ques. I've flatfooted a few times but only after drinking massive quantities of moonshine. That's what it takes to flatfoot.
Flatfooting is a good dance for drunk people. You keep a better center of gravity.
Oddly enough, the first time I flatfooted was in a bar outside of Fort Drum in WAAAAYYYYY upstate New York. It was like Canada north. I think it was Jell-O shots that time. The bartender knew the chick that I was with and he let us eat the fucked up Jell-O shots before the crowd came in. He gave us each a can of whipped cream and a bunch of bent Jell-O shots and we just chowed down on those suckers. I was quite drunk when the opportunity to flatfoot popped up.
It was a "What the hell!" moment and further evidence in support of my claim that somewhere, some one, at some time, shoved a gerbil up their ass.
See? Ass gerbils CAN find their way into the conversation quite a little bit.
Anyway, it is my contention that hormones killed country music a very long time ago. They took all the ugly people out of the picture and now all you have is Faith Hill and...some good looking country music dude. I don't know any off the top of my head but I'm sure they're out there.
I think the reason that I liked Townes Van Zandt is that while he does sing about sad songs...he sings more about the feelings than he does the actual incidents themselves. I may know how he feels but I don't know the name of his Lucille. And I don't know what the hell Lucille did to Townes, but I know exactly how he felt when she did it.
Bruce is sort of like that too. Although he can get specific. But when he does, he does it with such fitting music that I get into it. I don't know. I just know what I like as well as what I don't like.
Damn...the phone is ringing and it's a really cute guy so I have to go now.
OK...that was fun.
posted by Meg Kelso | 8:29 AM
1 Comments:
Meg: the origin of the song you referenced is:
You Are My Sunshine’ Writer Jimmie Davis Dies
BMI songwriter Jimmie Davis, known as Louisiana's singing governor, died Sunday, November 5 at his home in Baton Rouge, LA. No one, including Davis himself, knew his true age, believed to be about 101. Davis was one of 11 children and his sharecropper parents could not remember exactly when he was born.
The former governor of Louisiana who served two terms began writing songs in the mid-1930's without knowing how to read or write music. The self-taught guitarist caught the ear of an RCA talent scout and his music career took off from there. In addition to "You Are My Sunshine," first recorded in 1940, Davis wrote songs like "Nobody's Darling But Mine," "It Makes No Difference Now," "Honky Tonk Blues," "Take My Hand" and hundreds more. His own renditions did well, attracting artists like Bing Crosby, Gene Autry, Guy Lombardo and the Andrews Sisters to record his songs.
Over the next 60 years, "You Are My Sunshine" was recorded by more than 350 artists, sold millions of records and was translated into 30 languages. It is easily one of the world's most recognizable songs and in 1977, legislature decreed that "You Are My Sunshine" would share honors as Louisiana's state song with "Give Me Louisiana." The song also received the Towering Song Award from the Songwriter's Hall of Fame earlier this year.
Buddy
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