🐘 Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, poet, curveballer, noir dreamer 🐘
Here is your question of the day:
Which video game character shares his name with a gene from the human body:
Here are your choices:
The correct answer appears below the image:
So, did you get the answer right? Enquiring Minds want to know!
NAR © 2023
It’s Six Sentence Story time with Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge. Yeah, it is.
“Other” is a word that rhymes with mother, which also happens to rhyme with smother, which begs the question: “Am I a dreadful person for wanting to smother my mother ?”
Mother wasn’t a bad person; there was no physical abuse – just a major lack of tenderness which can leave greater, more permanent scars …. a perfectionist who found it very difficult to show warmth or affection, even to her children; I don’t remember her saying “I love you”, tickling me till I squealed or reading bedtime stories; what I do remember is proudly showing her a drawing I made in school with the inscription “Skyscrapers scrape the sky while butterflies flutter by”…. something my teacher called “highly imaginative and showing great vision” but mother said it was foolishness because butterflies can’t fly that high.
As a teenager I was forbidden to shave my legs but did anyway and not wanting my secret revealed, I wore jeans all the time, even to the beach in the middle of summer which also covered-up the fact that I used a self-tanner which turned my skin orange; mother watched as I scrubbed myself raw in the tub using a mixture of water and bleach – a humiliating experience – but it was at that time she discovered my shaved legs, causing her to explode like a slow gas leak and, of course, I was grounded but it was worth it.
Many days after arriving home from school I would find the contents of my dresser drawers dumped on my bed, simply because mother didn’t approve of how my clothes were folded; if I wanted to sleep that night, I’d have to put all my things away (or push them to the floor, which I often did) and I’d get hell the next day but it was a trip seeing her bulging veins and bugged-out eyes.
Years later when I had kids, mother would pop in unannounced and examine my house like the “White-Glove Lady” checking for dust; if my oven didn’t meet her standards, she would clean it (which, now that I have 20/20 hindsight, was a blessing in disguise because I ended up with a clean oven) and then she would depart as quickly as she arrived, leaving me with a spotless house but never once sitting down for coffee and a piece of pie or stopping to play with my children.
Lately I’ve been having a recurring dream about smothering mother with a pillow and when I wake up, I’m smiling; I guess my earlier question bears repeating: “Does that make me a dreadful person?”
NAR © 2023
This is John Lennon & Yoko Ono with The Plastic Ono Band singing “Mother”:
“Hi, I’m calling about your ad.”
Her voice was soft and sultry, as smooth and silky as his finest Maker’s Mark bourbon. The image of a voluptuous goddess with long wavy caramel-colored hair, tanned skin and moist red lips immediately appeared before him. He could see her pearly teeth as she smiled, tantalizingly nibbling her bottom lip. He felt himself getting excited.
“Is anyone there?” he heard her say and roused him out of his fantasy.
“Yes, sorry. I’m here. I was distracted for a moment. There’s something about your voice; it’s very …. familiar” he replied trying to sound nonchalant.
“I get that a lot” she answered, her throaty laugh arousing him again. He could see this woman easily becoming an addiction.
“Are you calling about the apartment or the car?” Please let it be the apartment …. let it be the apartment .… he pleaded silently, picturing her sprawled on his bed.
“The Corvette, of course. No sexy car list would be complete without it, don’t you agree?” She chuckled softly.
There was that laugh again. He had to meet this woman. Today.
“Of course. The ‘Vette’s’ an incredible machine” he said, a bit disappointed that she wasn’t interested in renting his apartment. He had to get her there.
“Incredible sounds about right” she agreed. “And thrilling, too, judging by the photo in your ad. With her open top, she’s as sleek and beautiful as a Corvette was meant to be – a car to melt some hearts and explode others.”
As she spoke, he had a vision of her in the ‘Vette’, top down, driving along the Santa Barbara coastline, her hair loose and wild like crimson flames. She was laughing as she drove faster and faster, her hand teasing the head of the gear shift. She was wearing a short black leather skirt and a low-neck sweater, her perfect breasts heaving with excitement. She smelled of lilacs. His heart was racing, his erection pounding.
Who is this woman? He couldn’t think straight. Snap out of it, dummy!
“So, when would you like to see the car?” he asked. Today, today, today raced repeatedly in his brain.
“Today, if that works for you” came the response he hoped for.
Careful not to appear anxious, he hesitated before answering.
“Hmm, today. My schedule’s kind of tight” he lied “but I might be able fit you in around 4:00. Would that work for you?”
“Yes. I can come anytime.”
Oh God, did she really just say that? Sweet Jesus …. this woman was driving him insane!
“Hold on one sec” she purred. “I just need to check something.”
He waited impatiently for her return. He went over his plan: they’d meet at 4:00, take the Corvette out for a leisurely drive and get back to his place just in time for a “spontaneous” dinner and whatever might follow.
“Sorry to keep you waiting” she said breathlessly. “I wanted to make sure my wife would be available at 4:00.”
Wait. What? Wife? Did she say wife? She was married? To a WOMAN! His passion vanished instantly along with his rapidly sagging manhood.
“Hey, sorry …. I’m getting another call” he lied again. “Hold on.”
Deflated, he pushed the “end call” button.
NAR © 2023
This is Prince and “Little Red Corvette”
Please join me today
for another edition of
In The Groove:
I’m With The Banned.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Since 1934 when the FCC was created, countless recordings have been banned or censored for a variety of reasons, including “provocative or sexually suggestive lyrics, inciting violence or promoting hate and political or religious beliefs and/or associations”.
The ban on most, if not all of these songs has been lifted; however, in some countries, certain types of music are still banned. They are considered illegal and carry severe penalties if the law is broken. Incredible, isn’t it?
Come join me as I reveal some of these controversial songs, why they were banned and the artists who made them (in)famous.
Creep – Radiohead
Last month was the 31st anniversary of the debut single release of “Creep” by the English rock band Radiohead. “Creep” is what I like to call an “angst love song“; it’s about loving someone who you mean absolutely nothing to, being totally ignored and feeling like a creepy weirdo because you just can’t get that person out of your head.
The original lyrics contain the line “so fucking special”. Obviously, that wasn’t going to fly with the censors so a cleaned-up version was recorded for radio with the line “so very special” (which makes me think of Dana Carvey’s “Church Lady” routine on SNL).
I neither like nor dislike Radiohead but this song blew my mind the first time I heard it and I still think it’s a great song. The music is quite sophisticated with unexpected chords and key changes. As far as the lyrics go, I think they’re brilliant and I have no problem with the curse word. I don’t appreciate gratuitously throwing the F Bomb around so often that it loses its “gravitas”; that is doing a great word a grave injustice. That’s not what’s going on with this song. Sometimes this perfect “mother of all curse words” is a must and everything else either falls short or is overkill.
Let’s listen to one of my favorite recordings from the early 90s – Radiohead performing the uncensored version of “Creep”:
🙈 🙉 🙊
Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead! – Ella Fitzgerald
Hold on. Back up.
Am I talking about the 1939 song written by Harold Arlen for The Wizard of Oz? The same song Ella Fitzgerald recorded in 1961?
You bet your sweet Munchkins I am!
If seeing this little ditty on the list of banned songs doesn’t blow your mind, nothing will!
Who would have ever thought “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead” would become a #2 hit on the British charts? Well, that’s exactly what happened in the spring of 2013 — even though the song was banned by the BBC.
Why was this seemingly innocuous song banned, you ask? Well, because of a deliberate campaign in 2013 to boost the song to the top of the charts after the death of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. The BBC deemed the song inappropriate because it was “clearly a celebration of death.” And in this case, the BBC was correct!
This is the divine Ella Fitzgerald singing “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead!”
Guess what! We made it through four banned songs since starting up last week and I haven’t heard anyone’s teeth fall out yet! Now honestly, it hasn’t been that bad, has it? 😬
And I’ll let you in on a little secret: today you heard the only curse word you will hear for the remainder of this segment. The songs I have planned for the coming two weeks will stand on their powerful message alone without the need of expletives …. and they are very powerful songs.
It’s my goal here in The Rhythm Section to always entertain and inform …. never to offend. To that end, I hope I was successful in bringing you some good entertainment today.
I’ll be back here in two days for Birthday Thursdays; I hope you’ll stop by to see who we’re celebrating this week.
Till then, be well and stay safe.
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
“Lie to me one more time, boy, and I’ll toss that mutt of yours right off the cliff” Sidney Granger threatened his stepson, Harry. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again; where’s my compass?” His upper lip quivered into a sinister smirk.
Harry glanced up at Sidney with an indifferent look on his face. “I don’t know where your stupid compass is, Sidney. Have you tried looking up your ass?” Harry quipped, knowing the comment would only make matters worse. He didn’t care; watching his stepfather get apoplectic was worth it.
Harry immediately regretted what he’d said, not for himself but for his dog. Sidney reacted in his usual way – one swift kick of his hobnail boot directed at Harry’s springer spaniel, Charlemagne. The dog sensed what was coming and quickly darted away, baring his teeth and growling at Sidney. Charlemagne remembered the pain of that boot all too well.
“You got lucky, mongrel. Next time I won’t miss” Sidney snarled. “And, boy, you keep calling me by my name and there’ll be hell to pay. You’re to address me as ’Sir’, is that clear?” Sidney turned and angrily walked away. Harry gave him the finger behind his back.
“Sir!” Harry muttered under his breath. “You’re not in the navy anymore, you bastard! Now you’re just an angry impotent nobody who abuses animals and women.” Harry’s eyes turned dark as he thought of the fresh bruises on his mother’s arms and legs. The man had no conscience.
Barbara Granger fell under Sidney’s spell the first time they met. She always had a weakness for a man in uniform and longed for the life as the wife of a highly regarded military man. Widowed for several years, Barbara happily accepted Sidney’s proposal but her joy was short lived when he was forced to retire due to his age before reaching the coveted position of Rear Admiral. Barbara’s disappointment paled in comparison to Sidney’s humiliation and indignation.
Now Sidney vented his frustration and disillusionment on Barbara and Charlemagne. He tried several times to dominate Harry but the boy’s resilience and stubborn dismissiveness caused Sidney to feel weak and powerless – a role he was not familiar with. He wanted nothing more than to wring Harry’s neck. He knew there was more to the boy than met the eye. Harry would not succumb easily, if at all, and that concept enraged Sidney.
Harry waited until Sidney was far enough away before he whistled for Charlemagne. The two friends walked to a secluded bower on the other side of the large garden. Harry reached into his pocket for his treasured penknife, one of the few possessions he had from his late father. He looked for the small marker he’d carved in a tree, crouched down and snapped open the knife.
Charlemagne sat quietly in the shade as Harry carefully cut a circle in the moss-covered ground, then painstakingly began to dig until the blade of his knife made contact with a rock he had buried. Harry wiped the knife clean and folded it closed, slipping it back into his pocket. He removed the rock and placed it to his side. Reaching into the hole Harry retrieved a dirty burlap pouch and gently loosened the drawstring to reveal Sidney’s precious compass. Even in the shade of the willow tree the compass gleamed.
Just then Charlemagne began growling and barking; instinctively Harry knew Sidney was standing behind him.
“You thieving little liar!” Sidney spat out furiously. Harry reached for the rock but Sidney kicked it out of Harry’s hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Harry managed to whistle and Charlemagne lunged at Sidney with a force so powerful he fell backwards. The spaniel sank his teeth into Sidney’s neck. Writhing on the ground, Sidney managed to break away from Charlemagne who relentlessly attacked again in an effort to protect Harry.
With arms flailing Sidney edged closer to the side of the cliff but once again freed himself from the clutches of the dog. Harry grabbed the rock from the ground and with a mighty force flung it at Sidney, hitting him squarely on his forehead. Stunned and bleeding, Sidney reeled and careened off the edge, bouncing off the boulders on his way down and disappearing into the choppy sea.
Charlemagne ran to Harry who scooped him up in his arms. “Good boy” Harry said soothingly as they walked to the cliff’s edge. The only sign of Sidney was one hobnail boot sticking out of a crevice. Harry realized he was still clutching Sidney’s compass. Glancing at it, he smiled slightly. How fitting that Sidney had gone south.
NAR © 2023
This is “Lies” by the Knickerbockers:
General Agricola was restless; for three nights he did not sleep. The Caledonians were plotting, of this he was certain. They were a pompous lot, thinking they could defeat his legions.
There was fire in his belly and he was determined to prove himself irreplaceable to the emperor, Vespasian.
Agricola summoned his first officer, Acilius. “I require the services of the scribe, Tertius. Depart immediately and bring him to me.”
Acilius did as commanded. The wizened scribe, Tertius, sat at the foot of Agricola, his calamus at the ready. He began the most crucial message of his life.
NAR © 2023
98 Words
This is Civil War doing “Rome Is Falling”
It’s time once again for
Friday Fictioneers.
This is how the photo
prompted me.
It was a tradition in my house when I was a kid; Mom made macaroni with gravy meat every Sunday and Thursday.
Nobody called it pasta; it was Ronzoni macaroni. And we didn’t say “sauce” either; it was “gravy”. Meatballs, pieces of pork, beef and lamb, sausages and bracciole – that’s Sicilian “gravy meat”.
Mom’s cooking was absolutely incredible. With the steamy kitchen window open just a crack, the aromas wafted out into the night, beckoning aunts, uncles, cousins and a few neighbors to dinner. Our apartment was always full.
The bright light wasn’t really necessary; everyone just followed their nose.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is Louis Prima and “Come On A My House”
So that was it, then. She finally left him. After all those threats and tearful rants, she packed a bag and left.
Oh, this wasn’t the first time. Every week she’d get into a tizzy, start throwing things around the place, threatening to leave. But she never did.
She’d get as far as the front door, then stop, turn around and run back into his open arms. They’d fall on the bed and passionately make up, each one promising never to fight again, each one swearing their unending love. Always feeding off each other’s desperation.
It never ceased to amuse him, the look of shock on her face when he beat her each time after having sex. What a stupid, insipid cow. She never learned her lesson. The one thing he hated more than her rants was the fact that she was such a slow learner.
But this time’s different. She actually left him.
On the third morning, alone in their tiny apartment, he lit a cigarette and stared out the window. That’s when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. So, she couldn’t stay away after all. He didn’t even bother turning around when the door opened. He knew one look at her face, he’d want to bash it in.
Just as well. He never saw the gun as she ended his life.
“Police. There’s been a shooting. Send someone round. Yes, the phone booth by Miller’s Road.”
And she hung up and put a bullet in her head.
NAR © 2023
250 Words
This is Cher and “Bang Bang”
I search high, I look low.
Where did my damn glasses go?
They aren’t here or over there.
I can’t find them anywhere.
Not on the couch or near the stove.
I’ve been home, did not rove!
Not by the sink, under the bed.
Well look at that! They’re on my head!
NAR © 2023
52 WORDS
For M
This is “Keep Searchin'” by Del Shannon
David ben Alexander, The Skeptic’s Kaddish,
has inspired me to take a page from his book
and create my first Dectina Refrain Poem
You
looking
at us five?
We are unique.
How we worry you!
Why are you so afraid
when you don’t even know us?
Our five hearts are breaking for you,
consumed with hate, so unaccepting.
“You looking at us five? We are unique.”
NAR © 2023
This is Doobie performing “Hate Song” *
* Language
Dectina Refrain:
Here is a link to David’s site:
I hope you’ll join me
for Birthday Thursdays.
Who are we celebrating?
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Mary Travers
Born November 9, 1936 in Louisville, Kentucky
Once again Denise from GirlieOnTheEdge
has challenged us to create a Six Sentence Story
incorporating the word “balance”.
I have used one of my own photos for inspiration.
My mother-in-law Gertrude was a wonderful woman; she raised a family of four kids (including one set of twins) and provided quite well for all of them on one income – her husband’s very ordinary salary for his work in the produce shipping department of the Long Island Railroad – not an easy task but she managed.
She was a homemaker – one of the vast majority of American women in the 1950s who chose not to work outside the house; while doing all the household chores, caring for the kids, attending Mass, going to school meetings and leaping tall buildings in a single bound, my mother-in-law still found the time to cultivate an impressive green thumb – a skill she taught me and one I am now passing on to my granddaughter.
One of the first times I met Gertrude, she brought me up to the enclosed front porch of the house to show me her impressive collection of plants; they were all nature’s incredible works of art – healthy green leaves with swollen, flowering buds – and I was immediately stung by the gardening bug.
Sometime after Bill and I were married, my mother-in-law gave me a plant – a coleus she had rooted from cuttings of one of her own plants; I placed the new addition to my small collection on a windowsill in our apartment and proudly watched it flourish, but one day, to my dismay, the coleus did not look healthy and eventually started losing its leaves and became spindly.
When I told Gertrude about my bad luck with the plant, she gave me some pointers and then said something that I have never forgotten: “Sometimes you just have to be ruthless; cut the plant back, way down to the dirt, remove all the dead stems and give it another chance to grow.”
I’ve be trying to apply that philosophy to my personal life when people or things become too demanding, draining me of my time and energy, pushing me to the limit, overwhelming; balance is not something we find but something we create and there are times when we have to be ruthless and cut back, way down to the dirt, let go of those outside forces dragging us down and give ourselves another chance to grow.
NAR © 2023
This is Rascal Flatts doing “I’m Movin’ On”.
A four-line response to the
photo-prompt challenge below
from Greg @ Four Line Fiction
“Is there really such a thing as the perfect marriage?” Marcella wondered; at one time she believed the answer was “yes”.
Now, laying on her bed alone in her apartment, Marcella’s head was swimming; after 18 years of marriage, how could she have been so terribly mistaken?
She had discovered a loose thread, one which kept annoying her, and as she toyed with it, pulled on it, every neatly sewn stitch in the tapestry of her life began to unravel until there was nothing left but tatters.
“How does a man who seemed unwaveringly devoted to her and their daughter have another wife and children on the other side of town and everyone knew except her?” Marcella asked herself, her mind now numb; the very idea was staggering and she nearly laughed at how totally preposterous and unimaginable it all was.
NAR © 2023
#gb4lf #gmgblog
This is Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb”.
Please join me today
as we start a new edition of
In The Groove.
I think you’ll find it
quite enlightening.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Since 1934 when the FCC was created, countless recordings have been banned or censored for a variety of reasons, including “provocative or sexually suggestive lyrics, inciting violence or promoting hate and political or religious beliefs and/or associations”.
The ban on most, if not all of these songs has been lifted; however, in some countries, certain types of music are still banned. They are considered illegal and carry severe penalties if the law is broken. Incredible, isn’t it?
Come join me as I reveal some of these controversial songs, why they were banned and the artists who made them (in)famous.
A Day In The Life – The Beatles
This song is the final track on the Beatles 1967 album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. It became controversial and ultimately banned for its supposed references to drugs. On May 20, 1967, during the BBC Light Programme’s preview of the Sgt. Pepper album, disc jockey Kenny Everett was prevented from playing “A Day in the Life”. The BBC announced that it would not broadcast the song due to the line “I’d love to turn you on”, which, according to the corporation, advocated drug use.
Other lyrics allegedly referring to drugs include “found my way upstairs and had a smoke / somebody spoke and I went into a dream“. A spokesman for the BBC stated: “We have listened to this song over and over again and we have decided that it appears to go just a little too far and could encourage a permissive attitude to drug-taking.
Lennon and McCartney denied that there were drug references in “A Day in the Life” and publicly complained about the ban at a dinner party at the home of their manager, Brian Epstein, where they were celebrating their album’s release. Lennon said that the song was simply about “a crash and its victim” and called the line in question “the most innocent of phrases”.
I’m going to let you decide for yourselves. Here is the phenomenal “A Day in the Life” by the Beatles:
🙈 🙉 🙊
Brown Eyed Girl – Van Morrison
Our second featured song was written by Northern Irish singer-songwriter Van Morrison in March 1967. It was released as a single in June of the same year, peaking at #10 on the Billboard Hot 100.
“Brown Eyed Girl” spent a total of 16 weeks on the charts and is considered to be Morrison’s signature song. We all know it and love it. Why would a song like this get put on the banned list?
Well, what some people may not know is the original name of this masterpiece was “Brown Skinned Girl” and was about an interracial couple – apparently a very big no-no to the censorship board back then. The title was changed by Morrison because he thought it would make it more “radio friendly”, and it did; when you listen to the words of this song, there isn’t a hint about a mixed-race couple. Some stations banned the song’s line “Making love in the green grass”; an edited version was eventually released, altering the line to “laughin’ and a-runnin’, hey, hey.”
What a bunch of hooey balooey!
Van Morrison has been a favorite of mine for a long time and I love his work; this delightful song is no exception. Let’s listen now to “Brown Eyed Girl” by Sir Van Morrison.
Now that wasn’t so bad for my new category and probably not exactly what you expected, was it? I wonder how many of you got nervous when you saw the word ‘BANNED’! No need.
Here’s the thing: I could have gone with any debauched and salacious video on YouTube; there are plenty to choose from but that’s not what The Rhythm Section is about. I’m no stranger to cursing; when done by a master such as George Carlin it is an art-form. Disgusting, non-stop gutter talk, such as demonstrated by Andrew Dice Clay, is just boring filth and totally necessary. When cursing, one needs to paint with a fine brush, placing every word precisely where it belongs. The result is magical … and often hysterical. No, I will never pooh-pooh the appropriate use of foul language.
The objective here is to be entertained and to learn about and listen to music that has been banned for social, religious or political issues …. not to look at naked private parts swinging in the breeze. Let’s keep that private, shall we?
Thanks for joining me today for the first installment of I’m With The Banned. I’d love to know what you thought of today’s post and these two (in)famous songs. Join me next Tuesday for two more.
Time to head on outta here before the Feds come looking for me!
Catch me next week …. if you can! 😁
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
Memories of 2020 ~
A time not soon forgotten.
Both men lived in the same apartment building, one on the ground floor and the other, two flights up. They would see each other in passing, nodding ‘hello’ or muttering the occasional “How ya doing?” They were approximately the same age and had seen each other often but a friendship never developed.
Then the corona virus hit and everything changed.
They happened upon each other in a nearby park, masked up, walking their dogs. One had a golden retriever, the other a chocolate lab. They struck up a socially distanced conversation, at first talking about their dogs then, of course, the craziness of COVID.
They were both unemployed computer engineers, laid off because of company closures. Each one contemplated moving back in with their parents but that was impossible; neither one came from accepting or understanding families.
They started biking and jogging together, often running the six miles that made up the full loop around Central Park. As they talked they discovered they had much in common: their nonexistent love lives, their passion for chess, a fascination with micro-brewing and their dream of working from home as computer app designers. And how gut-wrenching it was coming out as gay. Bittersweet commentaries.
The next step was so natural: moving in together. They could share one apartment and save money, work on ideas for app design programs, dabble in a little home-made beer and totally, passionately, fiercely fall in love.
A new year, a new start. Love in the time of corona.
NAR © 2023
https://weeklyprompts.com/2023/11/01/weekly-prompts-wednesday-challenge-bittersweet/
This is “Under Pressure” by Queen.
Jim at Song Lyric Sunday has presented us with this challenge:
“Find a song that you feel is an underrated deep album cut.”
OK, friends. Here we go!
“Nantucket Sleighride” is the second studio album by the American hard rock band Mountain, released in January 1971.
The title track “Nantucket Sleighride” (To Owen Coffin) and album title is a reference to the experience of being towed along in a boat by a harpooned whale.
Poor Owen, to whom the song is dedicated, was a young seaman on the Nantucket whaler Essex, which was rammed and sunk by a sperm whale in 1820. In the aftermath of the wreck, Coffin was shot and eaten by his shipmates. The story of the Essex was recorded by its First Mate Owen Chase, one of eight survivors, in his 1821 “Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex”.
On the list of 100 Most Underrated Rock Songs, “Nantucket Sleighride” stands in the whopping #10 slot. What?? Are you kidding me? The 10th most underrated rock song of all time. What are these list-compilers smoking?
I don’t have the answer to that and I can’t even hazard a guess. “Nantucket Sleighride” is one of Mountain’s (and Leslie West’s) greatest achievements. It is a stone classic of 1970s heavy metal and a guitarist’s dream. This title track from the album is easily Mountain’s greatest individual song. The band took its inspiration from Cream and turned it into some of the finest guitar driven hard rock ever put on record. If anyone doesn’t agree that Leslie West is a great guitarist and this song is epic, then I suggest they just listen.
#10 FFS!
NAR © 2023
This is Mountain and “Nantucket Sleighride” (To Owen Coffin)
Lyrics
Goodbye, little Robin-Marie
Don’t try following me
Don’t cry, little Robin-Marie
‘Cause you know I’m coming home soon
My ships’ leaving on a three-year tour
The next tide will take us from shore
Windlaced, gather in sail and spray
On a search for the mighty sperm whale
Fly your willow branches
Wrap your body round my soul
Lay down your reeds and drums on my soft sheets
There are years behind us reaching
To the place where hearts are beating
And I know you’re the last true love I’ll ever meet
Starbuck’s sharpening his harpoon
The black man’s playing his tune
An old salt’s sleeping his watch away
He’ll be drunk again before noon
Three years sailing on bended knee
We found no whales in the sea
Don’t cry, little Robin-Marie
‘Cause we’ll be in sight of land soon
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Felix Pappalardi / Gail Collins
Nantucket Sleighride (To Owen Coffin) lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Jenne has once again thrown down the gauntlet.
This is our photo prompt for The Unicorn Challenge.
There are some people who seem to have everything go their way while others lead the life of Sisyphus – the fellow who was punished in Hades for his misdeeds in life by being condemned to the eternal task of rolling a large stone to the top of a hill, only to have it roll back down every single time.
Let’s talk about Helen Chase. She’s the woman with blonde hair sitting by herself at the center table. Check out her posture. That is not a look of relaxation; it’s total defeat.
Helen was a loner and prepared to lead the life of a spinster; then she met a pharmaceutical salesman named Douglas who swept her off her feet. They married but life with her new husband was choppy at best. Helen dreamed the dreams of new brides; Douglas wanted nothing more than a house-cleaning broodmare. Helen failed miserably at both.
Today is her 50th birthday and she’s celebrating alone, divorce proceedings having been finalized. No husband, no children. An empty existence.
Little does she know the man to the left wearing a black shirt and holding a red napkin is desperate to meet her but lacks courage. He comes here every day just to look at her. He’s been alone since his parents died. All he ever wanted was a woman to love, one who loved him. Someone to share his life.
He willed Helen to turn around, glance his way. Helen slouched further down, irretrievably immersed in doleful self-pity.
NAR © 2023
250 Words
This is Brenda Lee performing “All Alone Am I”
Today she would find out if her entire life was a lie.
“Where to, Mrs. Carmichael? Shall I call for your car?” asked her ever-attentive doorman, Harold.
“Not today, thank you. Just walking up to Brooks Brothers to buy an anniversary present for my husband. It’s our 15th.” She remembered she also needed to make a stop at her psychologist’s office.
“Congratulations, Mrs. C! You have yourself a nice day.”
Claire Carmichael smiled at Harold and walked the short distance to her therapist’s office on Earl Street. Ringing Dr. Brink’s doorbell, she waited for his ubiquitous snobbish greeting of “Enter!”
“Welcome, Claire. Last time you were here we discussed your suspicions that Jeremy was having an affair. Why don’t we pick up from there?” he suggested.
Clearing her throat and adjusting her skirt, she began. “I’m no longer convinced Jeremy’s cheating on me. I’m not saying that he’s never had affairs but something is different. Things have changed between us. They’re better. Jeremy’s calmer, more attentive, grounded. He’s home every night by 6:00 and we enjoy our weekends together. No more overnight, out-of-town business trips and I’m actually happy for the first time in years.”
“Interesting” Dr. Brink acknowledged. “And to what do you attribute this change in Jeremy’s character?”
“We had a long talk the other night and it wasn’t easy for Jeremy. He confided in me that he’s been having panic attacks for quite some time. He finally started seeing a psychiatrist who’s helping him tremendously. He’s on medication and takes an early lunch twice a week to see his doctor.”
“And you believe him?”
“I do” Claire replied, uncomfortable with her therapist’s skepticism. And she did believe Jeremy; his explanation was credible and heartfelt.
“Did Jeremy happen to mention his psychiatrist’s name?”
Feeling rather nonplussed she replied “No, he didn’t and I didn’t ask. That would be prying – information I didn’t need to know. Now I really must get going. It’s our wedding anniversary and I have errands to run.”
“Good luck, Claire. Ever vigilant!” he called after her.
When Claire stepped outside there was a chill in the air; the sky was mottled and gray. That session unnerved her and she lingered for a while smoking a cigarette wondering what Dr. Brink meant when he said “Ever vigilant.” Muttering “shrinks!”, she wrapped her coat tightly around herself and quickly walked to Brooks Brothers. She chose a pair of monogrammed cuff links; they were elegant and ridiculously expensive but Claire wanted Jeremy to know how proud she was of him.
Leaving the store Claire decided to go across the street to their favorite French restaurant and arrange for a special anniversary dinner to be delivered to their apartment. Looking up Claire’s heart skipped a beat and she felt dizzy.
Exiting the restaurant was Jeremy, his arm around a captivating young woman. They were laughing, embracing and kissing as they walked.
Stunned, Claire threw the box from Brooks Brothers into a trash can and hailed a taxi.
“Where to, your highness?” The driver was uncouth with a big mouth, both physically and metaphorically. He chomped noisily on a cigar and Claire could smell his disgusting breath from the back seat. But he probably never cheated on his wife, she thought, acrid bitterness stinging the back of her throat.
“Just drive” was all she said; the cabbie smiled greedily as he flipped the meter.
NAR © 2023
This is Nancy Wilson singing “Guess Who I Saw Today”.
Rochelle at “Friday Fictioneers” has challenged us to
write a 100 word piece about how the image below inspired us.
This is my original response to her challenge.
Devin and Charlie jumped out of her car, fiercely kissing and tearing at each other’s clothes.
What great luck for the teens with sex drives in hyper-mode; Devin’s cabin all to themselves while both sets of parents were far off on weekend vacations.
The teens planned to spend every minute in bed.
Devin retrieved the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
The first shock was the romantic glow in the fireplace. The second? Finding all four parents getting it on …. and not with their own spouses.
And there stood Devin and Charlie letting it all hang out.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is T. Rex with “Bang A Gong” (Get It On)
Rochelle at “Friday Fictioneers” has challenged us to
write a 100 word piece about how the image below inspired us.
This is my response to her challenge.
“We’re out of gas, Pepper.”
“Look, Brad! There’s a light! Let’s walk to it.”
“Good idea! Maybe someone can help.”
Arriving at a house, the couple was struck by its serene beauty. They dreamed of owning a home like this.
They knocked and a woman answered.
“May I help you?”
Brad explained their situation; the woman said there were full gasoline cans in the garage and invited them in.
The interior was breathtaking.
“Your house is gorgeous!” exclaimed Pepper.
“Oh, it’s not mine; I’m the selling agent. You interested?”
Brad and Pepper exchanged surprised and delighted glances.
“We’ll take it!”
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is “Our House” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Jay Black
Born November 2, 1938 in Queens, New York
This is “Cara Mia” by Jay & The Americans
Jay & The Americans singing “She Cried”
The classic “Come A Little Bit Closer” – Jay & The Americans
Fandango gave us a Story Starter prompt and
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge challenged us to write a
Six Sentence Story, being as creative with punctuation as we dare.
This is my answer to Fan’s prompt and Girlie’s challenge. Enjoy!
🎶🎶🎶
One day when I was about nine years old, I was home with my mother when there was a knock on our door and when I answered it, I was very surprised to see Dottie Pessin – our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance – standing there in her perpetually stained housecoat, carrying a thin, flat brown paper bag, hair in curlers, and declaring “Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad you’re home from school because I have something for you and I’d like to come in to show you.”
Well, it wasn’t every day that someone came to our door unannounced bearing gifts for me for no reason under the sun, so I was not about to turn Dottie away (I was no fool, even back then), but my mother had now joined us and was somewhat suspicious about this strange, unexpected visit and asked Dottie to explain herself, to which Dottie replied “I was out shopping when I came across this album of kid’s songs and I immediately thought of Nancy, so I bought it hoping she would like it” and clapping her pudgy hands added “I’m very anxious for her reaction so let’s give it a listen.”
Now, I don’t mind telling you this surprised the hell out of me and pleased me no end because I was already madly in love with everything about music and could barely contain my excitement as I reached for my little record player with the image of Brenda Lee on the lid; Dottie apparently shared my enthusiasm and as the music played she kept asking me “Do you like it? Do you like it?” to which I had to admit I did indeed like it very much (seeing as how I was a kid listening to an album of kid’s songs – what’s not to like?).
We listened to one side of the album and, as I was flipping it over to listen to the other side, Dottie exclaimed “Oh, I’m so pleased you like the album but I just noticed the time and the “Edge Of Night” is coming on in 15 minutes so I’m going to take the record back now and be on my way”; my mother, ever in She-Wolf mode, saw the confused and let-down look on my face and was damn well taken aback herself by that strange and sudden announcement by Dottie …. after all, the album was supposed to be a gift …. and my mother questioned Dottie in no uncertain terms “Just what the hell do you mean you’ll take Nancy’s gift back, Dottie?”
Without an apparent thought for others nor the slightest bit of remorse or worry …. not about my mother’s sizzling Sicilian volcano temper nor the sadness building in my eyes …. Dottie replied “Oh, this isn’t a gift for Nancy; I bought this for my friend’s daughter who’s the same age as Nancy, but since I don’t know anything about little girls (never having had any myself) and the things they like, I wanted to run it by Nancy first to get her opinion, just to make sure it was a good gift and my friend’s daughter wouldn’t be disappointed”, and with that, Dottie Pessin …. our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance …. patted the curlers in her hair, took her thin, flat brown paper bag with the album of kid’s songs inside, held it tightly against her perpetually stained housecoat and bounced out our house like the giant green Grinch helium balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade without so much as a pudgy-handed wave or a glance over her shoulder to spy a regret-filled teardrop fall onto my purple Daisy Duck sweater (because all the other girls wore Minnie Mouse sweaters and I was never like all the other girls).
Now, you may be asking yourself “Could something this bizarre really be true and how could that woman screw with a little girl’s feelings like that?” and I will tell you that it most certainly is true – every pitiful word; I have no idea how someone could be so unaware and insensitive (unless they have their head so far up their ass they can smell Brylcreem) but, after 60-plus years, I still remember that surreal afternoon with Dottie Pessin like it was yesterday and, being a smart cookie for a 9 year old, I had the same thought about Dottie back then as I have this very moment: “What a stupid bitch!” 🌋
NAR © 2023
This is the Rolling Stones performing “Bitch” …. as if anything else would do!
It’s time to celebrate
Birthday Thursdays
over at The Rhythm Section.
No fuss, no muss –
just wall-to-wall music.
Stop by for some cake and sympathy!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Baby animals are cute. So are knitted booties, toothless grins.
My engagement ring definitely wasn’t cute, even though my mother declared it so 53 years ago; neither are the stories I write and frequently bleed on.
I have issues with “cute”; you’re going to give me a complex by commenting with that word.
We wouldn’t want that, would we?
I might have to disassociate, sever ties, and that would be a bloody shame.
NAR © 2023
73 Words
It’s the Stones doing “Let It Bleed”. Yeah, it is. 🩸
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
🦉 🎃 💀 🎃 🦉
Lord Rockingham’s XI was a group of British session musicians who had a No. 1 hit on the UK Singles Chart in 1958 with “Hoots Mon”.
What’s this song got to do with Halloween?
Absolutely nothing! It’s just a jumping little record I want my jockey to play and it’s an awful lot of fun to listen to.
Besides, isn’t that what all the cool owls are saying today? “Hoots Mon! Hoots Mon! Happy Halloween!”
NAR © 2023
Here’s Lord Rockingham’s XI now with “Hoots Mon”.
It’s Samhain, my people!
🔥🔥🔥
Monastic specters floated seamlessly between the leafless trees of the old forgotten cemetery. Round-eyed owls hooted from crooked branches while huge black crows swooped in and perched on weathered headstones. Sensing their imminent demise, the blind field mice scurried to and fro, frantically searching for safety. Alas, not fast enough for that one pathetic rodent chasing his own tail. The crow snatched him up and carried him off into the darkness. The weak and small have no rights in this most dreaded of places.
It wasn’t always this mist-enshrouded, wind-swept graveyard; many years ago the cemetery was a pastoral spot surrounded by blossoming trees and shrubs. It was lovely and visitors would come by frequently to pay their respects and linger for a while on a nearby bench.
High on a hill above the cemetery stood the Olde Dutch Church. The property was expansive with an outstanding view of the Hudson River. The focal point of the church was the belfry with its majestic wrought iron weather vane that could be seen for miles.
One parched and squally night in late October while parishioners were awaiting services for the feast of All Hallows’ Eve, a giant thunderclap boomed, followed by an enormous lightning bolt which struck the weather vane. The glowing gas particles coursed their way down to the belfry, instantly setting it on fire. Within moments the entire church was engulfed in flames, imprisoning all inside. Horrified townsfolk who were still outside tried valiantly to save their friends, to no avail. The church had become an inferno.
The wind blew sparks into the cemetery, setting the wizened trees ablaze. The smoke was black, the air thick with an acrid stench. Those outside the church fell to their knees crying pitifully, covering their ears to block out the agonizing screams of the tortured. Finally, after what seemed an eternity in Gehenna, the screams became pathetic whimpers, then stopped completely and an eerie silence followed.
Just then what was left of the church came crashing down, leaving nothing but a mountain of ashes and the grotesque, twisted remains of the once glorious weather vane.
Forty-seven souls perished that ghastly night. Nothing that resembled a body was found, nothing was left to be buried and the church was never rebuilt. Eventually people stopped coming to the cemetery. The only denizens there now are the unremembered interred along with the owls, the crows, the blind field mice and forty-seven specters seeking final rest.
The haunted wind is eerily unsettling this Halloween night, my friends …. or is it the wind?
NAR © 2023
This is AC⚡️DC performing “Hells Bells”:
It’s the last day of October
and the final edition of
Metal Madness!
You do not want to miss this one!
Seriously.
🔥 🤘🏼 🔥
https://rhythmsection.blog/
🤘🏽 ☠️ 🤘🏽
During the late 1960s and early 1970s a new musical genre was developed. It kicked in the door of the music world and turned into a phenomenon that is still going strong some 50 years later. There are no obvious signs of it slowing down any time soon. In case you didn’t get the hint from my new header image, I’m talking about heavy metal!
Can I play with madness? I think after today you will have to agree that I definitely can.
Say “hello” to my little friend.
This is Eddie, the official mascot for our next group.
Eddie is a perennial fixture of the group’s artwork,
appearing on all their album covers and merchandise,
which includes T-shirts, posters and action figures.
Eddie, AKA Eddie the Head, made his debut February 8, 1980.
Eddie says
“Happy Halloween!! You want a trick or a treat??”
☠️
Welcome back, my brave friends, to the final installment of In The Groove: Metal Madness! Let me see a show of hands; how many of you have stayed with me all month? Ah, I see quite a few metal heads out there! Excellent!
Now I’m sure you’ve been asking yourself all week “I wonder what Nancy has up her Sicilian sleeve for today? Who could she possibly have in mind for the final day of Metal Madness?”
That, my lovely metal heads, is an excellent question and I took my responsibility to you very seriously. I promise, no Sicilian Curveballs will be thrown today. There’s only one metal group I can think of who deserves to be included in this final countdown (that was not a clue) and that group is
English heavy metal band Iron Maiden was formed in Leyton, East London, on Christmas Day in 1975 by bassist and primary songwriter Steve Harris. Although fluid in the early years of the band, the line-up for most of the band’s history has consisted of Harris, lead vocalist Bruce Dickinson, drummer Nicko McBrain and guitarists Dave Murray, Adrian Smith and Janick Gers.
As pioneers of the new wave of British heavy metal, Iron Maiden released a series of UK and US Platinum and Gold albums, including 1980’s debut album, 1981’s Killers and 1982’s The Number of the Beast – its first album with Bruce Dickinson as lead vocalist (replacing Paul Di’Anno). The addition of Dickinson was a turning point in their career, establishing them as one of heavy metal’s most important bands. The Number of the Beast is among the most popular heavy metal albums of all time, having sold more than 20 million copies worldwide.
Iron Maiden is an institution. Over the course of 48 years they have come to embody a spirit of fearless creative independence, ferocious dedication to their fans, and a cheerful indifference to their critics that’s won them a following that spans every culture, generation, and time-zone. A story of gritty determination and courageous defiance of the naysayers, theirs has been an adventure like no other. Every one of their songs is a story and that for me, as a storyteller, is one of the key ingredients to their success. They are unique and different from every other heavy metal band with song lyrics covering such topics as history, literature, war, mythology, society and religion.
Iron Maiden has released 41 albums, including 17 studio albums, 13 live albums, four EPs and seven compilations. They have also released 47 singles and 20 video albums, and two video games. The band has played some 2,500 live shows and is still touring today. Iron Maiden has become one of the most influential and revered rock bands of all time.
On the evening of October 2, 1982, Bill and I hired a babysitter for our boys and drove into Manhattan for one of our final rock concerts. It had been a while. Now that we had kids, who knew when we would be able to have this experience again. We were all grown up with a different set of priorities but this was one event we could not miss. Performing that night at Madison Square Garden were two British groups Bill and I didn’t have a chance to see B.K. (Before Kids).
The concert tour was called Beast On the Road and the two groups were Judas Priest (remember them from last week?) and Iron Maiden. It was incredible and this is how it went down:
Here now are some classic Iron Maiden tunes. As I’ve been saying since week one, listen to one or listen to them all – it’s totally your call here In The Groove.
You might want to settle in and get comfy for this last one; it’s a bit lengthy. It’s my personal favorite and it’s called “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” based on the poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge written in 1834. If you’re unfamiliar with the poem, I hope you’ll read it some time. Here is a link:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43997/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner-text-of-1834
That’s the way it is with heavy metal and groups like Iron Maiden; you can’t stop at just one!
Farewell to October and to a month of Metal Madness. I can’t tell you how much this site means to me; it’s a labor of love and each week I try to leave a little piece of myself on the page. It’s hard work coming up with something new and exciting week after week; I love it and I hope that love shows in what I do.
Thanks for hanging with me; you’re one of the reasons I do these posts. The other reason is me; I do this because it brings me joy. And what better reason could I possibly have?
The month-long heavy metal party is over, kids, and you have shown that you can indeed play with madness! 🤘🏽
Join me next Tuesday for a new month and the start of something completely different.
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
“Are you coming or not?” Carl demanded as he took a few steps further into the haunted house at the Springwood Halloween Fair.
Sharon stood there fiddling with the drawstring of her hoodie. She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.
“I’m really scared of these places, Carl. I mean, they terrify me. I don’t want to do this.” And the tears came.
This was nothing new to Carl; Sharon hid behind her hands when she tried to watch “The Walking Dead” with him in the comfort of their own living room. He rolled his eyes, tired of Sharon’s childish fears of creatures that don’t exist.
“Look, babe, as I told you a dozen times already, everybody knows this is the best haunted house in the county” Carl replied in his usual condescending tone. “My friends at work said it was awesome and even Hal brought is girlfriend Darleen who’s afraid of her own shadow and she thought it was fabulous. I promise, it’s gonna be a blast.”
Sharon could hear screams coming from inside the haunted house but everyone came out laughing and quickly lined up to go in again.
“OK, I’ll do it but you have to promise to take me to see the Taylor Swift concert on the big IMAX screen next week.”
Carl happily agreed knowing there was no way in hell he was going to sit through a Taylor Swift concert. Laughing, he grabbed Sharon’s hand and pulled her into the haunted house.
“Don’t let go of my hand, Carl!” Sharon cried out.
“Sharon, just chill out. Why can’t you get it through your head that it’s all fake, it’s just for show and none of these characters are real? I promise I won’t let go of your hand. Now stop being a drama queen and try to have some harmless fun, ok?” Carl could really be a nasty SOB.
The inside of the haunted house was complete sensory overload; there was constant screaming as zombies, vampires, witches, skeletons, ghosts and hideous slasher movie characters jumped out of doorways, flew into windows, dropped down from the ceiling and popped up through the floor.
The place was madness and Sharon was getting claustrophobic. The only thing that kept her from running out in a panic was the familiar feel of Carl’s hand in hers. She couldn’t see an inch in front of her and there was something popping out at every turn. It was horrifying for Sharon.
Before Sharon knew what was happening, the grotesque image of Freddy Krueger suddenly appeared from behind a wall of smoke and menacingly brandished his deadly bladed glove; Sharon couldn’t take it any longer. She screamed out for Carl and pushed her way through the crowd, grateful that he was still with her.
Once outside, Sharon gulped in the fresh air and blasted Carl. “That was the worst experience of my life! It was terrifying and you tricked me. How could you?? I’m not kidding, Carl. I’m really pissed! Carl!! Are you even listening to me, dammit?”
And when Sharon turned to face Carl, she discovered she had been holding on to his severed arm. The next morning Carl’s body was found in the woods behind the haunted house. He had been sliced to pieces. They say karma’s a bitch.
At least Carl was true to Sharon about one thing that night; he never let go of her hand.
NAR © 2023
This is “Freddy Krueger Sings A Song” (Scary Horror Halloween Parody)
A tongue-in-cheek response.
Oops!
😉
Jim Adams at ‘Thursday Inspiration‘ has asked us to respond to his challenge regarding songs dealing with the word “delight”. This is my response to that challenge.
“Dixieland Delight” is a 1983 song written by Ronnie Rogers and recorded by the American country music band Alabama. It was released in January 1983 as the lead-off single from their album, “The Closer I Get…”.
The song reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot Country Songs list. After its release, the song became a college football tradition within the Southeastern Conferrence, most notably within the Alabama Crimson Tide football and Tennessee Volunteer football fan bases.
The song’s title refers to the girlfriend of the singer. The bottom line is that during their weekend outing, he plans to get it on with his sweet little “Dixieland Delight” in his truck in a meadow (“Home-grown country girl, gonna give me a whirl“).
Now, ain’t that romantic?
NAR © 2023
This is Alabama singing “Dixieland Delight”
Lyrics
Rollin’ down a Backwoods, Tennessee byway
One arm on the wheel
Holdin’ my lover with the other
A sweet, soft, southern thrill
Worked hard all week, got a little jingle
On a Tennessee Saturday night
Couldn’t feel better, I’m together
With my Dixieland delight
Spend my dollar
Parked in a holler ‘neath the mountain moonlight
Hold her uptight, make a little lovin’
A little turtle dovin’ on a Mason-Dixon night
Fits my life, oh, so right
My Dixieland delight
White-tail buck deer munchin’ on clover
Red-tail hawk sittin’ on a limb
Chubby old groundhog, croakin’ bullfrog
Free as the feelin’ in the wind
Home-grown country girl gonna give me a whirl
On a Tennessee Saturday night
Lucky as a seven, livin’ in Heaven
With my Dixieland delight
Spend my dollar
Parked in a holler ‘neath the mountain moonlight
Hold her uptight, make a little lovin’
A little turtle dovin’ on a Mason-Dixon night
Fits my life, oh, so right
My Dixieland delight
Spend my dollar
Parked in a holler ‘neath the mountain moonlight
Hold her uptight, make a little lovin’
A little turtle dovin’ on a Mason-Dixon night
Fits my life, oh, so right
My Dixieland delight
Rollin’ down a backwoods, Tennessee byway
One arm on the wheel
Holdin’ my lover with the other
A sweet, soft, southern thrill
Worked hard all week, got a little jingle
On a Tennessee Saturday night
Couldn’t feel better, I’m together
With my Dixieland delight
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Ronnie Rogers
Dixieland Delight lyrics © Keats And Shelly Music, Downtown Dmp Songs, Sister John Music
♦︎
It was Devinia Diamond, Doctor of Pharmacology and loathed next door neighbor. I’m sure she’s the one who poisoned the seed in my bird feeders. And I know why she did it, too. It’s because I mowed over her damn ivy vines that constantly spread into my yard, strangling the life out of my trees and latching themselves onto my lawn. I had every right to do so and I personally never stepped foot onto her property – only my lawn mower – yet she sought her revenge by killing the beautiful birds who visit my numerous feeders. All because Devinia Diamond is just plain evil, consumed with revenge and more than a bit demented.
We’ve had arguments for years now, mostly because she refuses to honor our property boundary lines. She constantly complains about my dog, Roscoe – a lazy old bloodhound who barely barks and never wanders off – but Devinia calls him a “vile creature”. If anyone on this earth is vile it’s her!
But this – the poisoning of my beautiful birds – was senseless and I’m not going to let her get away with it! She thinks she’s so slick. Well, we’ll see about that, Devinia! Yes we will!
Now, dear readers, put yourselves in my shoes as I stood inside the post office collecting my mail and I overheard the news that Devinia’s garage had all but burned down during the night! What’s that they’re saying? Spontaneous combustion! Of course, I had to act surprised; I bit my tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Earlier this morning I had heard the long-anticipated sirens of the firetrucks arriving at Devinia’s and I was as giddy as a schoolgirl!
The next morning I called for Roscoe. “Here, boy! Breakfast!” He didn’t come lumbering to the kitchen door which is unusual; Roscoe never misses a meal. He was probably snoozing under his favorite weeping willow tree. He loves his naps even more than food. I went out to look for Roscoe and did indeed find him under the tree, but he wasn’t sleeping; the poor old guy was dead. Not a single noticeable mark on his body. One would think he died of old age but I knew better. My buddy Roscoe – never sick a day in his life and now he’s dead – or should I say murdered? And by that lunatic Devinia, I’m sure of it. She hated Roscoe just like she hates everyone and everything. This has gone too far and she’s got to be stopped. That week I didn’t sleep well thinking about poor Roscoe and that she-devil, Devinia.
My goodness! What’s this I see? It’s none other than Devinia walking up her front path and she’s using a cane. “Why, Devinia! What happened to you?” I ask, my voice dripping with syrupy insincerity. “A loose step in the staircase leading to your basement, you say? You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck!” Too bad the cut made by my saw wasn’t deep enough. Next time I’ll make sure the job is done right!
If she knows what’s good for her, Devinia will stay away from me and keep off my property. She’s killed off all the birds and my sweet boy, Roscoe; now it’s just me and my wife, Ellen. Devinia’s presence is unwanted. Her very existence sickens me.
When Ellen announced she was going to be busy over the weekend with the church yard sale, I decided to drive to our lake house to do some fishing and get away from Devinia for a couple of days. My first night at the lake, I got a call …. the most horrible news imaginable. Ellen was dead! Apparently, she never showed up at the yard sale and wasn’t answering her phone. Ellen’s friends went to our house to check on her; they found her slumped over her desk, dead from an apparent heart attack. Ellen took great care of herself; she was the picture of health. Just like poor old Roscoe, there wasn’t a trace of foul play – no obvious marks, no detectable poison. But I knew. Only a maniac like Devinia was capable of this. She killed my wife and I’m going to get my revenge if it’s the last thing I do.
Now I ask you, dear readers – who says revenge isn’t sweet? I watched the whole thing unfold from behind my bedroom curtain. Devinia getting into her car, turning the key and then BAM! BAM!! BAM!!! Devinia blown to kingdom come! She had no idea I was a demolitions expert in my army days. This was by far my greatest detonation death dance! No one could prove it was me who did this, just like no one could prove Devinia killed Ellen.
This calls for a celebration, a toast to my deeply despised and not-so-dearly departed nemesis, the demented Doctor Devinia Diamond. I think that $700 bottle of Opus One Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon will fit the bill nicely.
I remove the cork and take a whiff. Ah, so savory! Now for a sip. So smooth and easy going down. Exquisite as the most delicious taste of revenge! Finally I can relax.
But wait. What’s happening to me? My throat and chest are burning! I claw frantically at my shirt collar, ripping off my tie. No! This is not possible!! Always one step ahead, Devinia must have poisoned my wine collection!! I made a foolish mistake and underestimated just how diabolical she could be.
Damn you, Devinia Diamond! Damn you to hell!
♦︎
NAR © 2023
This is Megadeth performing “Poisonous Shadows” live from the Wacken Music Festivial.
Hop on over today to
The Rhythm Section
for a very special
Guest Post
by our friend, Keith.
See you there!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
The Elephant's Trunk 
