Death is no laughing matter; It isn’t some practical joke. It doesn’t care if you’re thinner or fatter; Death comes to all sorts of folk.
Death isn’t anything new, we all know It began in the Garden of Eden. Cain killed Abel, it was mano a mano; He was jealous and just had to get even.
Death came to Caesar as quit a surprise At a meeting in the Theatre of Pompey. The Senators punctured his back and his sides; “Et tu, Brute?” was all he could say.
Death for young Romeo was a goblet of poison Which he drank thinking Juliet was dead. She found her dead lover, stabbed herself in the bosom And dropped dead at the foot of his bed.
Death is the bloody result of world war; Brave men within earshot of guns. Grenades flying high like a bird on the soar; Frightened lads crying out for their mums.
Death likes to hide in the darkest of places Where junkies shoot up in the night. But nobody sees the relief on their faces When they finally give up the fight.
Death is something we don’t like to ponder; It gives us the cold sweats and chills. Not so for a psycho who’s out on the wander; Killing quenches his thirst for cheap thrills.
Death is merely a passage of sorts, Ambiguous though it may seem. Don’t forget what your mom used to say ’bout your shorts, “If you die they had better be clean!”
Death can sometimes be quit accidental; Even crossing the street isn’t easy. Finding oneself in the path of a rental Will most certainly make you feel queasy.
Death likes to climb into bed when you’re sleeping; Some say it’s the most pleasant way. Under your bloomers and sheets it comes creeping; Good thing you had no plans for the day!
Death can be so inconvenient! It shows up when you haven’t a hunch. One minute you’re pitching your new camping tent And the next you’re a hungry bear’s lunch.
Death can appear right in front of your car And you cannot control your Range Rover. You slam on the brakes but you’ve gone way too far And drive over the White Cliffs of Dover!
Death comes a-tapping on your neighbor’s back window And you’re thinking “Thank God it’s not me!” Next thing you know your poor wife is a widow When you’re squashed by your dead neighbor’s tree.
Death has been known to appear at the station While you’re waiting for the next express train. There go your big plans for summer vacation; But you made the late news – don’t complain!
Death frequently happens in bathrooms After falling through the glass shower door. It’s going to take more than a mop and some brooms To clean all the blood off the floor.
Death will take all the fun out of life; I hear that it happens quite often. So have lots of sex with your perky young wife Before they lower the lid on your coffin!
Death comes to all whether dirt poor or rich; It’s never been known to discriminate. You can be a real gent or a son of a bitch, Pure of heart or brimming with hate.
Death will happen in every generation; Today or tomorrow, no one can tell. Whether a low-life or of high veneration We’re all gonna end up in heaven or hell.
Death doesn’t come for a gain or a profit; It’s certainly no money-maker Unless, of course, you’re lucky to sit In the chair of the rich undertaker.
We’re going back in time, boys and girls, to a movie that was made 84 years ago. The year was 1939. World War II was just underway and a 17-year-old girl by the name of Judy Garland was singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. If there’s one movie that has withstood the test of time it’s “The Wizard of Oz”; it’s been one of my favorites since I was a child and I still watch it when it comes on. There are so many great songs from that movie but none can be compared to this one.
So, without further ado, here is the iconic Judy Garland singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”.
What a lovely, heartfelt and accomplished voice for a 17-year-old! That song never fails to bring on the tears.
In case you’re as verklempt as me, the question of the day will be an easy one. Here it is:
Who is Judy Garland’s equally talented, famous (and troubled) actress/singer/dancer daughter?
Don’t know? No problem! Just share if you’re a fan of the “Wizard of Oz” and which character is your favorite. For me it’s the flying monkeys! 🐵
And here is the question from last week:
We already know the stars of “Easy Rider” were Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper. Who is the big name Hollywood star who had his first acting break appearing along Fonda and Hopper in the movie?
And the answer is …. Jack Nicholson. How’d you do on that one? Well, if you were watching the “Easy Rider” movie clip, Jack was there front and center. Quite a few of you got that question right!
We’re drawing the curtain on another great movie; I truly hope you’ve been having a good time with me “At The Movies”.
Don’t forget to check out Nick’s post on Breaking Boundaries coming up tomorrow. Until next time, take care of yourselves; I’ll catch you in one week.
She’s in the autumn of her life now. While all her friends are winding down, she’s still going strong. A couple of seemingly innocuous messages led to the start of a crazy, sexually charged and mutually intoxicating long-distance liaison. No attachments, no commitments, no worries. Something that could end as quickly as it began but would never be forgotten. Games with one roguish, audacious and charming devil who’s as insatiable as she. Is it love? She laughs at that silly thought. It’s the secrecy, the excitement, the extreme lust. For right now that’s exactly how she likes it.
Rob and I decided early in our marriage not to have children. We were late bloomers; he was 42 and I had just turned 38. We were happy being a couple without the responsibility of kids or pets.
That all changed when my widowed great-aunt Madeline passed away. Aunt Maddy was my late mother’s aunt; the last time I saw her was 11 years ago at Mom’s funeral.
Last month Aunt Maddy fell while out for her daily walk. She hit her head on a stone wall and suffered a concussion. She lapsed into a coma. When she awoke, she was in a very weakened state and unable to leave her bed. She spent her final days in the house she loved with her caregivers around her. I found out about my great-aunt’s passing when her lawyer contacted me.
Being Aunt Madeline’s only relative, I was named the sole beneficiary in her will. I was in shock when I learned that she left me her Victorian estate in Rhinebeck, New York and the staggering amount of $2,000,000 with the stipulation that I agreed to the terms stated in her will: to immediately take occupancy of the estate and make it my permanent residence, maintain it in the same meticulous manner as she and to take on the responsibility of providing a nurturing home for Frankie and Johnny – Aunt Maddy’s beloved scarlet macaws.
Rob and I lived in a small brownstone in Brooklyn; we didn’t know anything about caring for birds. However, for the incredible amount of money and the gorgeous home I inherited, we would learn. How difficult could it possibly be?
It had always been our dream to manage an art gallery; the closest we came was our photography studio in Battery Park. Now we would be able to pursue our dream in Rhinebeck. In recent years, the once quiet historical town in upstate New York had become a cultural mecca boasting museums, performing arts centers, galleries, etc. We packed our bags and headed north to meet the birds and make Aunt Madeline’s home our home. It was all quite intoxicating and a little bit terrifying.
On the drive upstate, Rob searched for info on scarlet macaws. “Hey, hon. Listen to this” and he read from his phone:
“Scarlet macaws are stunning birds and popular pets. They are excellent mimics with an average repertoire of 20 to 30 words. *Hm … that’s kinda cool.* They use their incredibly loud squawks and screeches to communicate. These calls are intended to carry over a distance of several miles. *Miles? Whoa, these are some loud birds!* Scarlet macaws prefer humid evergreen forests and their diet consists of nuts, leaves,berriesand seeds and weigh about 2 to 3 pounds. *Good, they don’t eat rodents and they’re lightweights.* They are the largest parrots in the world with a wingspan of 44 to 47 inchesand are 32 to 36 inches long. The average lifespan of a scarlet macaw in captivity is 75 years. *Wait. What?*”
As Rob read those last couple of lines, his voice got louder until he was shouting.
“Holy crap, Lucy! Did you hear what I said? That last part can’t be right!”
“Yes, Rob. I heard. I think everyone in a five mile radius heard what you said.”
“For Christ’s sake, Luce! These birds have a wingspan of 4 feet. Four feet!”
“It’s not like they’re going to be flying around the house, honey. Besides, Aunt Madeline had them for a long time; they’re probably not going to be around much longer.
“Babe, it says here they can live for 75 years. Let that sink in.”
“You make an excellent point. Well, we’ll just have to be positive about this. Let’s try to relax for the rest of the ride.”
“Oh, I’m positive alright” Rob replied. “I’m positive I’m not gonna like these birds very much.”
And we drove the rest of the way silently obsessing about our new-found knowledge.
As we turned onto the long gravel drive leading to my aunt’s estate, all thoughts of scarlet macaws and 47 inch wing spans vanished. Our new house appeared before us and it was beautiful beyond our dreams. We had seen a lot of Victorian painted ladies in Brooklyn but none were as spectacular as this. We decided to walk around the exterior of the house before going inside; everywhere we looked were weeping willow trees, evergreens and fields of wildflowers. At the rear of the house we came upon a glass-enclosed room – obviously a solarium. The beveled glass was a pale shade of green and there appeared to be large potted palms inside. We inched closer and our jaws dropped; this was the enclosure for the scarlet macaws.
Rob and I stood transfixed; we were looking into our very own Jurassic Park and the two intimidating inhabitants were staring back at us. They were a living Jackson Pollock painting, a startling shock of magnificent colors. They were huge, intimidating and majestic. They didn’t move a muscle and their cold black eyes were locked on us.
“I see you’ve found the birds!”
A voice called out from behind us and we screamed like two little frightened kids. We whirled around to see a tall silver-haired man in an incongruous safari outfit.
“Jeez, man! Don’t ever do that again! You scared the daylights out of us!” Rob shouted.
The man laughed and apologized. “I’m sorry, folks. I thought you heard my Jeep pull up.” He extended his hand and introduced himself as Douglas Farrell, a friend of my late aunt and the manager of the nature center in Kingston. “I wanted to be here when you saw the birds for the first time. Impressive, aren’t they? I figured some explaining would be helpful. Shall we go inside?” and he reached for the large sliding glass door of the aviary.
I noticed the glass panes were hinged and would fold like an accordion when opened. “Hold on a second. Won’t the macaws fly out when you open up the room?”
“I assure you they will not. Please, follow me … and there’s nothing to fear. These scarlet macaws are harmless.”
Douglas slid open the panes and strode inside; the birds were undeterred. Still, with great care Rob and I followed closely behind. When we were within arm’s reach, I whispered in awe “So, this is Frankie and Johnny.”
“Actually, no. It’s not” replied Douglas as calmly as you please. “You see, shortly after your aunt’s accident, there was a delivery of new plants and trees for the aviary. The people from the nursery inadvertently left the glass doors open when they were done. Frankie and Johnny, doing what comes naturally, flew out the large opening, took off into the wild blue yonder and haven’t been seen since. Surprisingly, it’s rather amazing a macaw sighting was never reported; they are not common around here. It was agreed upon by me and everyone who works at the house that, given your aunt’s failing health, it would serve no purpose telling her about her beloved birds. Instead we replaced Frankie and Johnny with life-size versions of the stuffed variety and no one was the wiser.”
Rob and I were dumbfounded and we blinked at Douglas in disbelief, allowing what he just told us to sink in.
“See, I told you an explanation would be helpful. Well, enjoy your new house.” Slapping Rob hard on the back, Douglas climbed into his Jeep and took off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
“Well” Rob offered weekly. “One problem solved.”
“From now on this room stays closedjust in case Frankie and Johnny decide to make a return visit” I declared.
“You don’t really believe they’re anywhere around here, do you” Rob asked.
“No, of course not” I laughed trying to sound convincing.
We retreated into the house while scouring the skies overhead and closed the doors behind us. With feigned nonchalance, Rob took the key and stuck it in the dirt of one of the potted palms. Rubbing his hands together, he said “And that is the end of that!”
But sometimes at night when it’s very still and quiet, I can almost hear the sound of flapping of giant wings.
The first time I heard this song, I was driving down a deserted highway in northern New York. I was immediately drawn to this piece and had to pull over to listen.
No babble today, no statistics; if you want them, they’re all available on Wikipedia.
Just sit back and enjoy the brilliance of Carlos Santana. This is “Europa”.
I’m blown away every time I hear this piece. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
You’re all probably too chill at the moment to do any deep thinking so I’m going to make today’s question an easy one:
What was Santana’s first big hit? Easy, right?
I wonder how many of you have had a similar experience while driving? One other time I got so caught up in“Dance Of the Furies” by Christoph Gluck (YouTube it) that I got my one and only speeding ticket! Music has a way of transporting us to another level; for me it was beyond the speed limit!
Let’s catch up At The Movies on Thursday. Don’t forget to see were Deb is taking us tomorrow. Have a great day!
When I was a kid, just like kids everywhere, I picked dandelion flowers for my mother.
She treated them like the most precious orchids, not like a disease to eradicate. She’d place them in a little glass jar in the center of our dining room table.
I felt like I had given her the rarest gift on earth.
I’m the type of person who can easily be consumed by laughter and I’m talking about the whole ball of wax: doubled over, tears rolling down my face, unable to catch my breath. My family is so used to it, they just say “There she goes again” and laughs along with me.
So today let’s all laugh together. Who cares if it causes laugh lines? Not me!
I’d love to read your jokes or see your funny videos. Leave something in the comments box so we can all have a good laugh. After all – laughter is the best medicine.
Hey! I’m back with another round of Name That Tune. Are you ready to rumble?
Let’s see how you do this week. And your clues are:
This tune, released in April of 1965, is a cover performed by a quintet based in Los Angeles. Though the group underwent multiple lineup changes throughout its existence, their bespectacled frontman never changed.
The original song was composed and recorded by a 24-year-old from Minnesota with a very recognizable voice; he has since gone on to become a huge persona in the music industry.
The composer claims he wrote this song on a road trip he took with some friends from New York to San Francisco. They smoked lots of weed along the way, replenishing their stash at post offices where they had mailed pot and picked it up while on the road. Very enterprising.
Both the group and the songwriter made the harmonica and tambourine look cool.
The group had another big hit in 1965 with a tune based on verses from the Bible. This was a cover of a 1959 song written by an American activist and environmentalist.
Do you know the name of the song and the group who had a hit with this cover? How about the name of the composer? I wonder where you arrived at your ‘aha!” moment.
Scroll down for the big reveal.
Ok, are you ready for the answers?
The LA-based quintet is The Byrds and the song in question is “Mr. Tambourine Man” written by Bob Dylan.
Now let’s hear that famous song.
I hope you had fun today playing Name That Tune; don’t forget to check in next week to see what I’ve got planned.
Pete’s up again tomorrow with another installment of Breaktime Whodunnit. I wonder what he’s got cooking.
Resuscitated and reworked for DA; We both needed something edgy.
“Welcome, friends. You’re listening to Dr. Grey, ‘The Night Owl’.Let’s talk about what’s keeping you up at night. Caller, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here and I feel a little foolish calling you about my problem. It happened so long ago.”
“Let me assure you, caller, there’s no reason to feel foolish. Obviously whatever happened is still haunting you. Maybe it’s time to let it go. Whenever you feel comfortable, I’m here to listen.”
“Ok, here goes nothing. You see, I was born deformed. Growing up in a small town in the Midwest, I was teased mercilessly, especially by the other boys.”
“I can see how painful that must have been for you. Please continue.”
“High school was a living hell. There was a group of guys who beat me up every day. The only friend I had was a sweet girl who wasn’t disgusted by my deformity. It was real easy to fall in love with her. But she had a boyfriend – the guy who treated me the worst. How I hated him! I started thinking of ways I could hurt him like he was hurting me.”
“Caller, I can only imagine your pain. May I ask, have you called in before? There’s something familiar about your voice. Please, go on.”
“Nope, I’ve never called before, Chief.”
“What did you just call me?”
“Oh, did that nickname ring a bell, Chief? Yeah, big man on campus back in Madison, Indiana. It was you, Chief, who made my life a living hell, you who tormented me every chance you had and eventually turned my only friend against me .. my sweet Maggie. Do you have any idea how much I hate you? “
“Oh my God! Fred Waldron! Fred, I’m unbelievably sorry for all the pain I caused you. I was an idiot with a big mouth. But now we have a chance to….”
“To what? Talk it out? Forgive and forget? I don’t think so. Too late, Chief. See, I’m dying. That’s right. My deformed body is riddled with cancer. I had one last thing to do before I die and believe me, it wasn’t to hear you apologize. It was to hurt you in the worst possible way.”
“Fred, what do you mean?”
“You’ll see. I paid a little visit to your house tonight, Chief. That’s right. And I saw your sweet little Maggie. Boy, she was surprised to see me. The way I made her scream and beg for mercy was exquisite. I’m never gonna forget the pleasure I got from her agony. I’m telling you Chief – it was some of my best work. By the way, you’re outta duct tape. Well, I’m gonna hang up now, Chief, and put a bullet in my brain. It’s been great talking old times and I’ll die happy knowing you’ll be in hell for as long as you live. You really should go home now, Chief, and check on your sweet little Maggie. There may still be something left.”
When something too good to be true lands in your lap, go for it! I’m using snippets from a story I wrote a few years ago for today’s Unicorn Challenge hosted by Jenne Gray. Here we go!
Justice was all alone in the world, first orphaned and now his mice siblings Eustace and Fergus were gone, too. He packed a few items he simply couldn’t live without and bid farewell to the barn, the only home he ever knew.
Along the way Justice came upon a young couple enjoying a picnic. Reaching into her basket, the woman produced a small piece of cheese and gingerly offered it to him. Tentative at first, Justice looked up into the woman’s twinkling blue eyes and was immediately besotted. He took the cheese in his tiny hands, placed it in his little hobo sack and ran off.
Justice had been served.
Once he was far enough away he sat down and nibbled happily on the cheese, staring at the wispy clouds and reminiscing about his siblings, now gone.
Eustace, his sister, had been a little floozy just like their mom. She took up with one of the Hamster Boys from across the road; for Eustace size really did matter. They took off together and were never seen again.
Brother Fergus was the runt of the litter and a bit dimwitted. He was chasing crickets around the top of the farmer’s well when he lost his balance and fell in, departing this mortal existence with a small splash.
Justice was on his own, but he had no fear. He was excited. There was still much for him to explore, to experience in this vast world.
Boundary: a line which marks the limits of an area; a dividing line.
Often boundaries serve a purpose, sometimes they are waiting to be transcended.
Every Friday, here at The Rhythm Section, we will explore the ocean of music using the latter as our lodestar: breaking of a boundary.
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Music made without a soul yearning for connection – just cookie-cutter(ing) its way to the bank; yet it is plastered all around us like an ad desperate to become an earworm.
Music made from a soul transforming its inner struggles into a connection hub, using the currency of recognition, I see you, I know; yet it hardly gets any airplay.
It is this kind of music Nathan John Feuerstein creates.
Known as NF, he is an American rapper, singer, songwriter and record producer.
Despite the connotations rap music may have, this artist achieved a huge worldwide following
Breathing new life into a story from 2021 for Jim’s “Space” challenge.
Marcy Grey was sixteen, neither a kid nor a woman. She was one of those unpopular girls, just her unlucky lot in life for which there was no explanation. A wisp of a thing, she had a constant look of sadness in her eyes. Having no friends she’d spend most of her time alone, often on the roof of her apartment building gazing at the stars, dreaming of space travel and listening to her parents Beatles CDs. Their music and message resonated with her more than anything else in the world and it was the only time she didn’t feel lost and scared.
Her parents worried about her, as parents are wont to do, and they encouraged her to pursue activities in school or join a club of some sort. Marcy half-heartedly tried a few times but never felt accepted or welcome and eventually gave up. School was almost over for summer break and while others were chit-chatting about going to camp or planning a family vacation, Marcy knew the long days of July and August would be no different for her than any other day in her life. Her parents worked hard, barely making ends meet; there was no time or money for recreation.
One night Marcy overheard her mother talking on the phone with her sister, Marcy’s Aunt Rita; from the snippets of conversation she knew they were talking about her. “She really needs a diversion … We’re worried … She’s so sullen … Well, that sounds wonderful – are you sure? … I have no idea how she’ll feel about it, though … Yes, I’ll talk to her and call you back.”
Not surprisingly a few minutes later Marcy’s mother knocked on her bedroom door. “Aunt Rita bought a little beach café in Atlantic City and wants to know if you would like to spend the summer with her. Rita would love the company and could use some help at the new place.”
Marcy frowned and told her mother she’d think about it; at least that wasn’t a flat rejection. And she did think about it, weighing her options. The pros: she really liked Aunt Rita; Marcy had never gone anywhere, ever; she was stuck in a small apartment with her parents; she could look at the wide-open sky at night and the stars dancing off the ocean; she might actually have fun. The cons: leaving her rooftop comfort zone. The next morning she shocked her parents by announcing she would spend the summer in Atlantic City with Aunt Rita.
Marcy was met at the bus depot by Rita all decked out in her bright pink sundress, straw hat, Ray Bans and sandals, giddy and happy as a clam. As she drove to her house Rita talked non-stop about her fabulous new beach café, The Pink Flamingo. Even Marcy found her aunt’s enthusiasm contagious and couldn’t help smiling.
There were seven other teenagers waiting tables at the café; all of them were nice and greeted Marcy warmly. Work wasn’t easy and it took Marcy about a week to get accustomed to her new life but she found she actually liked it. Surprisingly Marcy enjoyed being with her co-workers and meeting new customers every day. But the best part was climbing the dunes at night, sitting on a blanket and gazing at the stars while listening to “Rubber Soul”.
One night on the beach Marcy saw someone approaching. She got nervous until she realized it was Adam, one of the guys she worked with. He asked if he could join her and Marcy said yes. Adam had an MP3 player, as did Marcy, and she asked him what he was listening to. He smiled shyly and answered “Revolver. I was raised on the Beatles”. Marcy grinned and handed Adam her earbuds. Music wasn’t the only thing they had in common; Adam spent most nights back home gazing at the stars. He was a loner with no real friends and this was his first time away. And to their complete amazement they discovered they both lived in Queens, NY.
Marcy and Adam met at the beach every night after work and talked about everything. The end of summer was drawing near and their time together in Atlantic City was almost over. They rode the same bus back to Queens, exchanged phone numbers and gave each other a quick hug before going their separate ways.
Late that night as Marcy sat on the roof of her apartment building she got a text. It read “Hey, Stargazer. Dream sweet dreams for me”.
Smiling, she quickly wrote back “Dream sweet dreams for you”.
A little step back in time as I recount a true story of events experienced by me in the hospital after hip replacement surgery. The hallucinations were as real as my 2008 accident and I remember even the minutest of details. Originally published in 2021.
“Use the call button on the side panel of your bed if you need a nurse. My shift is almost over. Can I get you anything before I leave?”
It took me a few seconds to remember where I was as I stared at the friendly face of the nurse standing over me.
“Pain meds would be lovely” I answered, grimacing.
“You’re hooked up to a morphine drip; you should begin to feel much more comfortable very soon. Until then, try to get some rest” the nurse suggested.
I had been in an accident a day or two earlier, falling off a three-foot-high deck and landing on my left side with tremendous impact. As I lay stunned on the hard ground, my face resting on my outstretched left arm, I felt absolutely nothing. I thought I had survived the fall unscathed. Then I realized I could not move my feet or wiggle my toes. When the emergency medical teams arrived, they tried to gently and ever so slowly shift my body in order to slide a stretcher under me. That’s when it hit. Moving even a millimeter caused the most excruciating pain I had ever experienced in my life. It shot all the way down my motionless leg to my unmoving Apple Green painted toenails.
My hip was not broken; it was demolished.
I’m a firm believer that copious amounts of pain medication should be dispensed frequently to patients in need. I smiled wanly at the nurse and asked for my iPhone; while I waited for the morphine to take me to another dimension, I would lose myself in my playlist.
If you’re sick or injured, a hospital is the last place you want to be. Trying to rest is next to impossible. Patients pleading, buzzers buzzing, machines murmuring, carts careening, elevators elevating, doctors discussing, nurses needling. Even the mourning doves who kept watch on my windowsill were cooing ceaselessly.
I slipped in my earbuds and cued up The Beatles “Helter Skelter“. No matter how horrendous I may be feeling at any given moment, listening to that masterpiece makes life perfect for 4 minutes and 29 seconds.
Someone wheels in my dinner cart. Lifting the lid I see a salad, a medium-rare hamburger, a beverage and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Not feeling hungry just yet, I go through my collection of albums trying to decide which one to play. Ah, “Revolver”. You can never go wrong with that beauty. I close my eyes and revel in the brilliance of “Tomorrow Never Knows”.
I’m suddenly aware of a rush of air and find I am now outside floating uptown over the streets of Manhattan, my hospital gown flapping like laundry on a clothesline. I hear the old Klaxon car horn sound of “AHOOGA!” behind me and swivel round to see a flying ice cream truck being driven by none other than John Lennon. Somehow, as bizarre as it all is, it seems perfectly normal.
“You getting in? We don’t want to be late” John says.
“Late for what?” I ask.
“For whatever comes next” John replies with a grin and I slide onto the seat beside him. “It’s very rude to be late, isn’t it?” and we zoom off.
“AHOOGA!!“
“What’s on your bucket list, me darlin’?” John asks me and I answer without hesitation “To go to Liverpool!”
“Ah, lovely Liverpool. I won’t be going back there again, I’m afraid. Next stop: The Dakota!” John calls out and we swoosh away.
“No, John. You mustn’t!” I beg him and I start to cry.
“Oh, but I must! Now dry those green eyes. It is my destiny and we can’t change that.“
He was silent for a moment, deep in thought, then he spoke very quietly to me:
“Nancy girl, listen to what I’m going to say. Aim for the stars. Love with your whole heart. Work hard. Be the best person you can be but never ever forget to have fun. Time is fleeting and tomorrow never knows so always eat dessert first. Got it?Good! Now, let’s be on our way.”
As I nod in agreement I can hear the faint words “Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.”
And in a flash John and his flying ice cream truck are gone.
I open my eyes and gingerly prop myself up on my hospital bed pillow. Dinner is still there, right where I left it, and I find I’m suddenly starving. Ignoring everything else on my tray, I go directly to the Ben & Jerry’s, pop open the container of ice cream and dig in.
And in that moment I realize nothing in my life ever tasted so delicious.
If you need a little boost getting your engine running, I’ve got the perfect number for you today.
“Easy Rider” is a 1969 American independent roaddrama film written by Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and Terry Southern, produced by Fonda and directed by Hopper. Fonda and Hopper play two bikers who travel through the American South and Southwest carrying the proceeds from a cocaine deal.
Released shortly after the assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., “Easy Rider” marked a significant change in American filmmaking. Never before had a low-budget, offbeat movie made such an impact on young audiences. Reflecting a chaotic time in a country that was deeply divided in its values, the film’s frank treatment of alternative lifestyles, sexual freedom and drug and alcohol use struck a deep nerve.
If you think back to Tuesday’s In The Groove, you may remember I mentioned “Easy Rider” in my post. I see some of you nodding your heads in agreement. Then you’ll remember the kick-ass power-song from the movie that I also talked about – “Born to Be Wild” by Steppenwolf.
As I said on Tuesday, this song is sometimes described as the first heavy metal song ever written. I do not agree with that but I’m going to let you decide for yourselves. If you’d like a refresher on some heavy metal music, please refer back to Tuesday’s post.
Turn up the volume and strap yourselves in. This is Steppenwolf and they were “Born To Be Wild”!
Vroom chaka laka! That is definitely a rockin’ song!
Now here’s the question of the day, a fairly easy one if you’re familiar with the movie (and you were paying attention to the video):
We already know the stars of “Easy Rider” were Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper. There was a third guy who tagged along for part of the movie. Who is the big name Hollywood star who had his first big acting break appearing along Fonda and Hopper in the movie?
I’ll have the answer for you next week.
Don’t forget to tune in tomorrow with Nick for another great edition of Breaking Boundaries.
Are we having fun yet? I hope to meet up with you again next week At The Movies where we can catch our breath and mellow out. I’ll save you a seat!
“‘Cattle Decapitation‘?! What the hell kind of music are you into now, Colin? Sounds like another really depraved rock band from Sweden or Britain – that’s what you’re listening to these days, isn’t it?Like that other group you worship – ‘Liquid Graveyard’. What the hell does that even mean, Colin? Your mother and I have had it with this heavy metal music, if you can even call it music, which you insist on blaring down here; we’re losing our minds. You have absolutely no respect for anyone else. Your poor grandmother is afraid to come out of her room and eats all her meals behind her locked door. Frankly it’s nothing but noise and I can’t blame her one bit for keeping herself locked away. I mean, it was bad enough when you were into ‘Motörhead’ and that Lemmy freak but we kept our mouths shut; kids go through phases, I know that. Then you started getting into some pretty disturbing stuff, groups like ‘Autopsy’ and ‘Cannibal Corpse’. Really, Colin! It’s damn upsetting to the whole family and we’re seriously on the brink of kicking you out of the house. What do you have to say for yourself? What do you want to do with your life?!” Colin’s father, Mark, was apoplectic with rage.
“I WANNA ROCK!!” Colin wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but he wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction. Instead, he looked up at his father from the beach chair in his basement bedroom and calmly asked “Are you done spewing your uninformed and ponderous statements, Dad, or do you have more to say? If you’re done, I’m gonna ask you to leave my room and let me enjoy my music. If you’re not, feel free to continue your rant. You don’t mind if I put on my headphones, do you?” Colin knew he was adding gasoline to the fire but at this point he didn’t care any more. Obviously his father had been going through his stuff; he never takes the time to listen to what he has to say and has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Actually comparing ‘Cattle Decapitation’ to ‘Motörhead‘ – what a pedestrian misconception!
“Why you little son of a bitch! You’re telling ME to get out of YOUR room? This is MY house; I just let you live here! We fixed up the basement for you when your grandmother moved in. We could have easily had you share a room with Kyle but we realized you needed your own space. And how do you repay us? By turning this place into a shit hole! Look at your crap – magazines, posters, CDs, video games, boxes of God knows what spread out all over the place. No wonder your mother practically has a panic attack every time she has to come down here to use the washing machine. She’s almost as scared as your grandmother! It breaks her heart seeing what you’ve done to this room. You know, she always wanted to make this her arts and crafts area but gladly gave up the space to accommodate you. Have you ever shown your appreciation, even once? No, you haven’t! You’re such a selfish and spoiled ingrate!” Colin stared at his father, fascinated as he watched his eyes bulge with every word and the throbbing veins in his neck looked like they were going to explode.
“Since we’re talking about me, Dad, other than my taste in musicand the fact that you think I’m a selfish ingrate, have I ever done anythingyou‘re ashamed of? I’m a good student and I’ve got a job. All the stuffyou call “crap” – I bought everything you see here with my own money. I never asked you for a dime to buy CDs or video games. That’s a lot more thanyou cay say about other kids my age but you‘ve never acknowledge that. You just constantly browbeat me about my music. Dad, let me ask you a question. Didn’t you have your favorite groups when you were my age, maybe even some your parents didn’t approve of?” Colin asked.
Mark was momentarily caught off guard; he’d never heard Colin talk like this before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they actually had a civilized conversation; they always just screamed at each other. Who was this kid?
“Of course we did, Colin. We listened to lots of different groups like ‘Guns N’ Roses’, ‘Mötley Crüe’, ‘Whitesnake’ and ‘Quiet Riot’ but that music is no comparison to the crap that’s out today, especially this garbage you’re listening to. Yeah, maybe my father gave me some grief now and then – it’s a father’s job to keep his kids in line – but back then the music we listened to was really good. You know, your mother still loves The Beatles? You can’t get any better than that.”
Colin sprinted out of his chair. “Dad, do you honestly think you’re telling me something new? I know all about those groups you used to listed to. You think I’m only aware of what’s popular now? Give me a little more credit than that! At least my mind isn’t closed off like yours.I like ‘The Beatles’, ‘Stones’, ‘Led Zeppelin’ and ‘Deep Purple’. But I accept the fact that my music isn’t for everybody and you should at least acknowledge that and try to be a little more broadmindedinstead of sticking it to me every chance you get. Did you ever think the reason I stay down here listening to my music is because you and I never just talk about stuff?”
Mark exhaled deeply. “You make some valid points, Colin, you really do but at least the names of the groups we were into weren’t twisted. Tell me, what the hell kind of name is ‘Cattle Decapitation’, for crying out loud? It’s not normal! What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”
“Come on, Dad. It’s just a name. Didn’t you listen to ‘Poison’ and ‘Fine Young Cannibals‘ and ‘Nine Inch Nails’? And since you mentioned “twisted”, what about ‘Twisted Sister’?What kinds of names are those? Besides, you don’t know the first thing about ‘Cattle Decapitation‘” Colin replied.
“Well, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what the name means, Colin. It’s repulsive!”
“And there you go again, making a judgment call with no real information to back it up! Dad, can you cool down long enough to let me tell you something about them?”
Mark sat down heavily on the side of Colin’s bed. “Go ahead, Colin, but it’s probably not going to change my mind.”
‘‘Well, you might be surprised. And I’m not making any of this up. It’s all on the internet so Google it if you don’t believe me. ‘Cattle Decapitation’ is an American group, not Swedish or English. That’s right – from right here in the US of A, just like your good old boyTed Nugent! And they aren’t famous for cutting off the heads of innocent cows or sheep. Their songs actually protest the mistreatment and consumption of animals and the abuse of the environment. I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that the members of the band are vegetarians, just like me – or haven’t you noticedI gave up eating meat two years ago? They aren’t savages. When you think about it they’re not all that different than ‘that fab little group’ Mom loves so much; they’re just expressing themselves in a different way.“
Mark looked at his son with skepticism. “I don’t know, Colin. That just doesn’t make much sense to me. I mean, listen to them; that lead singer sounds like he’s possessed by demons!”
“That’s because they’re angry about the situation of the worldand they’re trying to get our attention! Their song ‘Bring Back the Plague’ is all about COVID-19 and is the painful, truthful humor we all need right now. And it was filmed responsibly on cell phones while the band was in self-isolation. Do us both a favor, Dad. Forget the music for now and just read the lyrics to their songs, then compare them to thegroups you listened to. That’s all I ask; think of it as a compromise. After that, if you still want to kick me out of the house, that’s your right.”
“Ok, Colin, I’ll take a look but I can’t promise anything.”
Mark went to the fridge and grabbed a Bud Light. He climbed the stairs to his den, flipped on ‘Metallica‘ and Googled ‘Cattle Decapitation‘.
“Well, I’ll be God damned! he said after reading for half an hour. “The kid actually knew what he was talking about.” Mark switched off ‘Metallica’ and searched YouTube for ‘Bring Back the Plague’. Putting on his headphones, he took a swig of his beer and for the first time in ages he actually paid attention.
Originally published in 2020. Resuscitated, reprised and revamped to complement my post for today’s edition of In The Groove at The Rhythm Section. Please stop by and check it out. https://rhythmsection.blog/
We’re going deep today In The Groove. Hang onto your knickers, kids; it’s time for some heavy metal! And I have more than one video for you. Please do not dismiss this post out of hand; I give you my word – no blood will be shed, no eardrums shattered.
Rather than choosing just one song, I wanted to do something unique by offering three songs representative of three different time periods. The release date of each video is separated by approximately 25-27 years; I spaced them out this way for you to listen for musical changes over the years which will assist in setting up the question of the day.
There’s heavy metal and then there’s HEAVY METAL; what you’re about to hear falls into the first category. You will never hear “death metal”, “black metal”, “doom metal” or “metalcore” on any of my posts; I am not a fan and I choose not to play them.
Are you ready? Then let’s start with a song by a group that may surprise you. Considered by many in the music industry to be the first heavy metal song in history, here is “Helter Skelter” released by The Beatles in 1968.*
Next up is the American group Anthrax with their 1993 song “I’m Alive”.
And finally from Norway here is Jørn with “Over the Horizon Radar” from 2022.
Are you still with me? I tried my best to bring you heavy metal that wouldn’t chase you out of the room. Hopefully, I was successful.
Here now is the question of the day; it is fully conceptual and there is no right or wrong answer:
Keeping in mind that there is a span of 54 years of heavy metal music represented here, which of these three songs did you enjoy the most and why?How do these pieces differ for you?
Here was last week’s question:
Who was the performer who originally sang “Me and Mrs. Jones” in 1972?
And the answer is … Billy Paul. Did you get it right? A shout-out to our very own Pete and also to John Holton from The Sound of One Hand Typing right here on WP who both knew the answer.
Thanks for hanging out with me today; I know heavy metal isn’t for everyone. Think of it as a way of broadening your musical horizons!
Speaking of horizons, where in the world could Deb be taking us next? Tune in tomorrow to find out where her magic carpet will land.
*Some may argue that “Born To Be Wild” by Steppenwolf was the first heavy metal song; that is only because of the second verse lyric “I like smoke and lightnin’/Heavy metal thunder/Racing with the wind/And the feeling that I’m under“. That is the first time the phrase “heavy metal” was used in a rock music song but it is not describing the music; “Heavy metal thunder” is a reference to motorcycles. Remember the bikes in “Easy Rider”? Now that’s metal! The music genre of the song “Born To Be Wild” is categorized as “hard rock”, not “heavy metal”. The three songs above have all been categorized as “heavy metal”. 🏍️
He eyed her sipping her drink. She was glorious; he had to meet her but his timing had to be perfect. No impulsive actions this time. He wasn’t one who believed in love at first sight. No, it was more the way her finger toyed with that one loose strand of hair or the way she imperceptibly licked her lips before sipping her glass. When she looked his way, he waved slightly but she only had eyes for her approaching date.
With great aplomb, he ran his raised hand through his hair.
“I’ve left that life behind me, along with my leg. Go help your mother with breakfast.”
I watched him silently as I wiped my sniffly nose on my sleeve. He swiveled on the stool as fast as his wooden leg would allow. Raising his eye patch he growled menacingly.
“ARGH! Dammit boy! Don’t be making me angry or you’ll be walking the plank to yer watery grave!”
I jumped back, giggling. I couldn’t help myself.
“Can we go down to the bay tomorrow?”
He sighed in exasperation. “We’ll see; I’ve chores to finish first.”
“But tomorrow is Sunday and the boats will be coming in.” I dared to suggest.
My father became quiet. He rubbed his leg where the wood met his stump. I knew he was thinking back to that dreadful day when his boat was attacked by the marauders aboard the Crooked Star and he was left for dead. He washed ashore where my grandfather found him and carried him home for my mother to nurse.
A great experience awaits you today as we introduce the newest member of The Rhythm Section family. Come on over to see what’s cooking; I hear it’s gonna be smokin’! https://rhythmsection.blog/
Reprising a littlefantasy I wrote for my granddaughter in 2019.
“When I tap my hat with this magic wand and say the secret words you will instantly turn into a Blackbird!” declared my brother, Jude. “Are you ready, Lucy?”
“Sure, Captain Marvel” I replied with about as much enthusiasm as a piece of Norwegian Wood.
“Ok, here goes. Ob-La-Da!” ZAP!And nothing happened. “Hey, what’s going on? Don’t Let Me Down, hat” wailed Jude, truly stumped.
“Hey Jude! Here’s a wild guess: maybe you got the words wrong,” I suggested. “Take a look at this”, and I produced my cherished copy of the White Album. “See, you got it wrong.”
“Oh yeah! Ok, let’s try again. Ready?” Jude ceremoniously whirled his wand and said “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da!” ZAP!
And the next thing I knew I was Flying through the sky, gliding Across the Universe. I gazed in amazement Here,There and Everywhereat all the clouds, the water, the tree tops, Abbey Road, Penny Lane andStrawberry Fields. I spotted a row of houses below and swooped down, perching on a windowsill. Hopping inside I landed right on top of a bathtub.
“Well, hello little Girl! What have we here? A tiny housebreaker?” exclaimed a voice behind me.
“No, silly! I’m ablackbird. I Came In Through the Bathroom Window” I said and turned around to see the one and only George Harrison!
“Welcome, blackbird!” George said, not at all surprised to find a tiny talking bird sitting on his bathtub. “You remind me of a little ditty John and Paul wrote. Would you like to come with me to visit the lads?”
“You mean John, Paul and Ringo?” I warbled with excitement.
“Well, actually just Paul and John. Ringo had a bit of an accident and he’s in the hospital. But do try to Act Naturally.Ringo doesn’t always have the most confidence and at the moment is moaning ‘I’m A Loser‘! Poor fellow!”
“Oh no! Now I’m Down! What happened to Ringo?” I asked in Misery.
George whispered “Do You Want To Know a Secret? Ringo was following the Fool On the Hill and he couldn’t Slow Down. He fell head first, he did, crashing right into a pen with a bunch of Piggies who started nipping poor Ringo all over!”
“Oh, my goodness! Wasn’t there anyone to Help?” I asked tearfully.
“Just the Two Of Us!” exclaimed triumphant voices in unison. George and I turned to see Paul and John had joined us. “We arrived just in time to drag Ringo out from the pigpen but he had sustained quite a few little bites” continued John.
“You’ll be happy to knowwe got Ringo to Doctor Robert straight away and he’ll be right as Rain very soon. He had a Hard Day’s Night but he’s Getting Better All the Time”added Paul.
“So tell us, Little Child. Do you have a name?” asked John.
Paul spoke before I could answer. “Somethingtells me, Johnny, her name is Mother Superior. Can’t you see this little Baby’s In Black, just like a nun’sbeautiful habit? Oh! Darling, am I right about you?” inquired Paul.
“No, my name is nothing quite as impressive as that Because I’m just plain Lucy”.
“Just plain Lucy!? Rubbish! Let’s see – I’m sure your name is much more modern than Eleanor Rigby, definitely easier to pronounce than Semolina Pilchard but every bit as pretty as Dear Prudence!” exclaimed John.
George reached into his pocket and took out a teeny pair of pink glasses. He delicately balanced them on my little beak. “Perfect! The Girl With Kaleidoscope Eyes! Let’s go introduce you to Ringoand we can’t forget to bring the Honey Pie! Ringo loves it so!”
And off we went to catch the One After 909, singing Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds.And A Splendid Time Is Guaranteed For All!”
Suddenly I was in my bed and I wasn’t a blackbird at all. The Lads weren’t here either. Yesterday was over and it had all been a wonderful dream. I knew I had to carry on and Let It Be.
But when I looked over at my nightstand I couldn’t believe my eyes; there sat a teeny pair of pink glasses.Imagine that!
Well, I think I’ve held back long enough; it’s time to break out some Beatles!
I was listening to a radio show recently on SiriusXM; the host and his guest were having a discussion about songs that are famous for their opening chord. The first song I think of in that category is “A Hard Day’s Night”, written by The Beatles for their movie of the same name. This 1964 film was a financial and critical success and was nominated for two Academy Awards. Forty years after its release, Time magazine rated it as one of the 100 all-time great films.
People have asked “Just what exactly does the term ‘a hard day’s night’ mean?”. Well, the answer goes something like this: the movie’s working title was “The Beatles,” then “Beatlemania“. After a particularly grueling rehearsal, everyone was tired, frustrated and still undecided about the movie’s name. At one point Ringo, who was exhausted after the long day, blurted out that it was “a hard day’s night” for him. The phrase “struck a chord” and was accepted by the studio.
Here is “A Hard Day’s Night” by The Beatles; listen for that famous first chord.
Boy, it sure was hard keeping up with those four – in the movie and in real life!
Now it’s time for the question of the day but the pressure’s off because there’s no right or wrong answer:
Which song pops into your head as having the most recognizable opening chord?
Feel free to give an answer, share a video or just think about your song and enjoy the memories.
As a reminder, here’s the question from last week:
Marlon Brando is famous for a lot of movies; however, this 1972 multi-award-winning blockbuster is his most famous. Name the movie and his character.
And, of course, the answer is “The Godfather”; Brando’s famous character was “Vito Corleone”.
Tomorrow’s a big day here at The Rhythm Section. At long last we have a Friday post presented by the newest member of our musical family and it kicks off in 24 hours. I can’t wait to see it! Be sure to check it out; something tells me it’s gonna be smokin’! 😎
Hope you had fun today; catch you again soon At The Movies. Enjoy the rest of your week!
When Chris woke up Monday morning, he knew something was not quite right. He was always the one to jump out of bed full of energy, ready to start the day. Not this morning. His neck and shoulders felt stiff and achy, probably from helping his brother repair his deck over the weekend. He didn’t overthink it, figuring a couple of Advil and a hot shower should do the trick.
And they did. Chris felt much better but by noon the tightness in his neck and shoulders was back. Rubbing his neck made the soreness feel a little better; that was when he remembered the masseur at his gym. He decided he’d stop by after work for a massage.
When Chris arrived at the gym, Rick – the front desk guy – told him the masseur was no longer there and his replacement hadn’t started working yet. Rick leaned forward a bit and quietly said, “Look buddy, I could get in trouble for telling you this but my cousin Alex recently opened a massage therapy practice. It’s not easy getting a practice up and running so I offered to help out by referring a few gym members. If you’re interested, I’ll share Alex’s contact info with you.”
Chris knew he didn’t want to spend another night suffering so he decided to take Rick up on his offer. Rick sent his contact information to Chris and five seconds later he had the number for ‘Alex Brody, Massage Therapist’ in his phone. Thanking Rick for the tip, he left the gym and headed to his car.
Chris always kept his gym bag in the car with a fresh change of clothes. He sent a text to Alex, saying he was referred by Rick and explained his situation; Chris added that he hoped he could get an appointment that evening. It didn’t take long for him to receive a reply; Alex agreed to see him in 45 minutes. He was good to go – just enough time to grab a cup of coffee and head over.
Chris arrived at Alex’s place with a few minutes to spare. He grabbed his gym bag, climbed the stairs and rang the bell. The door was opened by an attractive woman in shorts and a t-shirt. She extended her hand and said “Hi. You must be Chris. I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.”
A look of surprise and confusion registered on Chris’ face, then he gave a little chuckle and said “Oh, I see what’s going on here. What’s your full name, Alex? Alexandra?”
Alex withdrew her unacknowledged hand. “That’s right. Is there a problem, Chris?”
“Yeah there is, Alexandra. The problem is women like you who dupe unsuspecting people like me by using a guy’s name simply because they lack the confidence to make it in the big bad world by using their real name. I thought I’d be dealing with a man tonight.”
“You know what, Chris?” quipped Alex. “I thought I’d be dealing with a man tonight, too.”
Okay, we’re gonna turn the heat up just a bit here and really get In The Groove.
When this song first came out in September of 1972, I was a newlywed of exactly three months with nothing but loving on my mind. I thought this was possibly the sexiest, most titillating and steamy song I’d ever heard.
It’s the story of an affair between a married man and his equally married lover. In the song, the two meet in secret “every day at the same café” at 6:30 where they hold hands and talk. The two are in a quandary: “We’ve got a thing going on. We both know that it’s wrong but it’s much too strong to let it go now.”
Please excuse me, Pete, but I’m stealing a page from your playbook and doing a cover version of this song by my favorite duo of all time – Hall and Oates, the most successful pair in music history (yes, even more successful than Simon & Garfunkel).
Why a cover and not the original when the original is an excellent recording? Two words: Daryl Hall. Fifty-plus years after seeing him on MTV, I still “have a thing going on” for Daryl Hall so please allow me this one indulgence.
Turn down the lights, pour the wine and light the candles; here now are Hall and Oates doing a live performance of “Me and Mrs. Jones”.
Oh, my goodness! What can I say? I got a thing for “blue-eyed soul”.
Back to the business at hand. It’s time for the question of the day. Once again, you either know this or you don’t.
Who was the performer who originally sang “Me and Mrs. Jones” in 1972?
I’ll have the answer for you next week.
To refresh your memory, here’s the question of the day from last week:
In my little blurb before the video, I tossed out the name of another great song written by George Harrison. Did you notice it?
The song is “Cheer Down” and the title came from a little thing George’s wife Olivia used to say to him. Whenever he was starting to get all caught up in something and needing reining in, she’d say “Cheer down, big guy”. I like that; nicer than “Cool your jets!”.
I hope you enjoyed today’s sultry number here In The Groove. Join me next week when things will be very different.
One of the best things about being empty nesters is not having to cook full meals every night.
Bill’s easy, always has been; he’s not the meat and potatoes kind of guy. We’re happy with soup, BLTs, burgers on the grill, my sensational ham and cheddar omelets … you get the picture.
There are some days when I feel the urge to cook and will prepare a lovely risotto or perhaps seared sea scallops over a lentil ragù. Rare but it does happen. I’m very content taking it easy these days.
But I have to draw the line at one thing: Chef Boyardee ravioli in a can. Six words that never should be put together. It’s a travesty; it’s also one of Bill’s favorites.
I was raised on pure, natural homemade Italian food. “Pasta” in a can is not food. Correction – it’s food: bad food, eye-averting food, gag-inducing food. It’s a treat for Bill to eat this staple from his childhood. He gets practically giddy buttering his bread and dipping it in the (dare I say) sauce in anticipation of that first mouthful. That, my friends, is a scene that once seen cannot be unseen.
When drunk, my wife Blaire could be a sexy vixen or a slutty bitch; tonight was definitely the latter.
Sprawled out on the deck of my boat ‘Mariposa’, Blaire slowly got to her feet and staggered toward me, one hand grasping the boat railing and the other a bottle of vodka.
“For fuck’s sake, James, why do you always have to wear that ridiculous outfit?” Blaire slurred. She drained the bottle, dropping it on the deck.
“This is proper nautical attire, darling, perfectly appropriate for every occasion” I replied. “But you don’t know the meaning of proper and appropriate. You’re all but falling out of your dress.”
Blaire ran her hands up and down her tanned body. “What’s wrong, Captain? Don’t you like the way I look? All the other men do” Blaire purred tauntingly.
“Darling, you’re such a drunken whore” I snarled and she reached up to slap my face. I grabbed her wrist and shoved her out of the way. She fell, hitting her head. Putting the boat in neutral I quickly checked on Blaire; she was dead. I adjusted her dress and looked around the boat making sure nothing was out of place.
Heading for the dock, I made a frantic call. “Mayday! Mayday! Emergency on board ‘Mariposa’!”
The police asked a few routine questions but it was obvious my wife had too much to drink; she lost her balance and fell. It happened so fast I couldn’t prevent it … even if I wanted to.
Stay tuned for a brand new Friday post starting on April 28 in The Rhythm Section. It’s gonna be all day, every day music blogs and videos and it’s gonna be cool! https://rhythmsection.blog/
The Elephant's Trunk 