“you stole my wife, you horsethief!”
Wednesday 8 November 2006 | I like a cookie
This is the title of a comedy song the Brujo is playing on KSFR right now; he’s filling in for a coworker so there’s not so much Ornette Coleman or crazy-pretty Coltrane scribbling going down. Instead this band number by Dizzy Gillespie and, in the vocal section, Trane himself, 19 years old and bellowing the title line along with everyone else in the chorus. Truly weird—or as I said to the B. last night, laughing and coughing, it’s so far inside that it’s out, the way ultra-conservatives can be turned in the light so they manifest as classical liberals, appearing not out of place among the far left.
At least yesterday I managed to drag myself out around 6:30 and vote before the polls closed. I might not have remembered except that Governor Bill called my landline about every half-an-hour to make sure I didn’t forget—a powerful campaigning technique, based as it is on the ability to irritate. Wonder if the Guv does have a presidential bid somewhere in him, and wanted some solid numbers, even though he was running all but unopposed.
Now the B. is pluckily playing a bizarrely hilarious recording of “Casbah” with the female vocalist indulging in all this soprano, Queen-of-the-Night style ornamentation. “Probably a huge influence on the old Star Trek theme song,” he speculates. You really can’t picture the singer, Rae Pearl, without imagining a basket of wax fruit on her head, or at the very least a jeweled turban and some chiffon scarves. [PopMatters refers tastefully to her contribution as “a wordless vocal.”] Will he get in trouble for turning Boring Morning Jazz into a novelty show? Can he actually get any more in trouble than he already has been, for playing the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Archie Shepp, James Blood Ulmer, Ronald Shannon Jackson, electric Miles?
The plague has, Inshallah, been brought up short by that mighty megafauna of antibiotics, azithromycin. We were afraid of it at first, this five-dose stuff, but now we love it; spectacular coughing fits sharply reduced to just a couple a day. The pertussis test (which involves having a fine pipe-cleaner-tipped wire jiggled up your nose, both sides, 10 interminable seconds each) still hasn’t come back, but at least the bronchitis and sinus infection are retreating, offended, in the meantime.
The Un’ll be light on the posting until full recovery, but we’ll keep things moving with many cellphone photos not yet uploaded.
And now he plays Ella, fluidly affirming that s/he loves me madly. Oh I got big eyes for you, baby.
post your glowing encomium (or bitter philippic) »
Follow this heated, lively discussion through its very own feed; also, you can pingback or trackback from your own doubtlessly much more interesting site.
