ALBUMS: The Byrds Greatest Hits; The Best of the Byrds, Greatest Hits Vol. 2
MVC Rating: Best, 4.5/$$$$; Vol. 2 3.5/$$$
The long-haired redneck wrote and sang: ‘I heard the burritos out in California could fly higher than the Byrds.
Roger McGuinn had a 12-string guitar it was like nothing I’d ever heard
And the Eagles flew in from the West Coast, like Byrds they were trying to be free
While in Texas the talk turned to outlaw, like Willie and Waylon and me
There, in those few lines David Allan Coe gets a lot accomplished. He effectively describes the country, folk-rock intersection which would spawn an enormous number of cross-genres.
In doing so he puts the Byrds front and center and of course gives his ownself a big commercial — Willie, Waylon and Me, indeed.
But the sharp Coe lyrics quickly name check the Flying Burritos Brothers, the Byrds, Eagles, (all on this flying theme.)
The Byrds are the real pioneers in this group, melding and merging Dylan songs, Biblical passages and psychedelic experiences into a new electrically charged folk style with provocative lyrics. Their music influenced many fans, not the least of which was REM and Peter Buck’s Byrd like guitar.
The first ‘Greatest Hits’ is indispensable with Turn Turn Turn, Mr. Tambourine Man, Chimes of Freedom, Eight Miles High, and My Back Pages.
The second album is weaker but still has plenty of good stuff, including Ballad of Easy Rider, Jesus is Just Alright and Chestnut Mare.
With this post, I essentially am through with B’s in www.myvinylcountdown.com (More on that in a blog post coming up.) So, as we go alphabetically counting down my 678 records I collected in the 70s and 80s, I’ve knocked out two letters in a 26- letter alphabet. Dang, got a long way to go. This brain disease is giving me a deadline. Remember it’s ultimatelly about fighting a deadly disease, Lewy Body dementia. Stay with me and I’ll stay with you. (Read About Me for more info).
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
ALBUMS: Singles Going Steady (1979); A Different Kind of Tension (1980)
MVC Rating: Singles, 5.0$$$; Different: 4.5/ $$$
Punk. I’ll be using that word in a totally unrelated way about street basketball. Posting that one in the next few days.
But I don’t have a lot of what you would definitely call punk music. I love the Clash and have some but they were more than punk. Listen to Sandinista. A friend of mine in 9th grade (mid to late 1970s) brought over a record by a new sensation, the Sex Pistols.
God save the Queen, she ain’t no human being, they spat-sang
It was three chords turned up to 11 spewing anger, a response or stand-up to classic rock music played by multimillionaires, Pink Floyd, the Who, Rolling Stones, all aging rock stars who ‘made it.’
The Sex Pistols point was heard, loudly. That point, we’re mad dammit. Angry about the way things are set up in society, so the next best thing to a revolution is to scream about it at volumes sure to sink into our fat heads.
Problem was, the music was pretty much driven by relentless spewed anger, effective on one level but often lacking basic musicality. The older groups, such as the Who actually did do this kind of stuff decades ago, smashing instruments, screaming they won’t get fooled again, and being, well, punks. But of course that wasn’t the point. The point was, the punks said that the music was for the people not the greedy record industry and be angry about that as your starting point.
Enter the Buzzcocks. A most influential band that had clever lyrics, a driving raucous rhythm section (bass and drum) and rock and roll, Chuck Berry, Bo Didley guitar chords.
Lyrics? Well the song ‘Orgasm Addict’ was banned from British radio. My favorite songs off of the two records I have are ‘Hollow Inside,’ ‘Everybody’s Happy Nowadays,’ and the more ambitious songs like ‘I Believe’ and the title track. Catchy punky short songs that some listeners will inevitably say sounds all the same. If really doesn’t, especially when you get to the ‘Tension’ record. Some thought provoking slam music here.
Buzzcocks are an obvious influence of Green Day, those Berkeley garage punksters that actually did become multimillionaires with the Buzzcock sound. For an interesting but silly debate on that influence, go here.
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
ALBUMS: Trap Door (1982); Proof Through The Night (1983); T Bone Burnett (1986); The Talking Animals (1987)
MVC Rating: Trap: 4.0/$$; Proof: 4.0/$$; T Bone 4.5/$$$; Talking 3.5/$$
I think I may be the only one in Alabama to have four T Bone Burnett albums. For one thing, Burnett is much better known as a producer than a singer-songwriter. And he is generally better known among fellow record industry folks, albeit as one of the best in the business.
So there’s not a lot folks around with any T Bone Burnett albums, much less four.
His resume is not short on his work for others: Los Lobos, Elvis Costello, John Mellencamp, Counting Crows, and the BoDeans are just a few who are recipients of Burnett’s excellent production values and arrangements. He’s won Grammy’s for the movie soundtracks of, among others, Cold Mountain, Walk the Line and O Brother Where Art Thou (one of my favorite movies and one of my favorite soundtracks.)
As for his own recordings, they are interesting, literate and sometimes peculiar.
I got interested in T Bone after reading about him leading a back-up band for Bob Dylan, probably in the 70s or 80s. The Rolling Thunder Review it was called.
I bought Trap Door in 1982 and enjoyed the extended play record. This EP had six songs, more than a 45 but less than an LP, long-playing record.
With sharp guitar from David Mansfield, this was good top to bottom. Burnett obliquely channels some songs through his Christianity, but he is not usually identified as a Christian artist. Although he has often played with like-minded musicians.
Re-visiting these albums I am struck by the fact that the least ambitious, I like the best, and the most ambitious I like the least. My favorite, the self-titled 1986 album is country folk at its strumming best.
River of Love by T Bone deserves to be a classic. Little daughter and I Remember are lovely. Oh No Darling makes you want to do some swinging round the room.
The Talking Animals album, is his most complex and least accessible. He enlists great help, Bono, Ruben Blades, Peter Case, and Tonio K. (More on Tonio later in this blog, he’s one of my favorites.)
Is Purple Heart with Bono on background vocals about Prince?
The Tonio collaboration on the song The Strange Case of Frank Cash and the Morning Paper is a talk-sing sort of parable. I believe they may be making a statement on the nature of truth as revealed in the symbolism of story. You know like the Bible, hence the title of the album.
One Amazon reviewer giving the Frank Cash song five stars called it ‘one of the strangest and most imaginative songs of the 20th Century.’
Looking back I see a stream of morality running through his songs, not moralism per se, but morality in such songs as Ridiculous Man, Hefner and Disney, and the tongue in cheek cover of Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.
Robert Christgau, my go-to critic for succinct wisdom, gave Burnett good reviews in the early years but soured on him over time, specifically over the Talking Animals. Christgau acknowledges and recognizes his intelligence and accomplishments, Grammy’s and all, but “why hasn’t he developed any kind of audience?
“Because for both a roots guy and a Christian guy (converted Dylan, some say), he seems like a cold son of a bitch.”
Aw Christgau, didn’t you hear the sweet song, presumably about his daughter, called ‘Little Daughter? You know the one where he brings her clothes of rayon. Rayon?
Don’t want to give short shrift to Trap Door and Proof through the Night. Some great songs in there, After All these Years, When the Night Falls, I Wish You Could Have Seen Her Dance.
For my money his best record is the ‘O Brother’ soundtrack, an album he produced and one of the great records of all time, as it introduced a whole new generation to bluegrass, gospel and folk-blues.
An interview with the man reveals a lot about his knowledge of recording and production and engineering.
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
Tell me if you do this. I set clocks ahead of the real time. For example, if it’s 10 a.m., the clock by my bed will say 10:09.
Same in the car, though it might say 10:08. I’m already feeling the smiles of recognition as you read this.
I, and you who do this, are trying to trick ourselves.
When you look up at the clock you go: Oh my gosh it’s 8:15, I have an 8:30 meeting. Adrenaline kicks in. Then you remember don’t you, Groundhog Day suckers, that it’s actually only 8:06. Just doing that calculation stimulates your brain again. You’re up.
(Some people do do this, right? I’m just hoping it’s not some LBD symptom and everyone is out there going, ‘All righty then.’ Onward.)
People familiar with this blog know I have been diagnosed with Lewy Body dementia, about a year ago. It’s a degenerative brain disease that affects movement and memory, to varying degrees in varying people. There is no cure and no known cause. But the sad fact is that the average lifespan after initial diagnosis is 4 to 7 years, according to the Lewy Body Dementia Association.
I have time, but probably less of it than the average 58 year-old.
So given this unexpected deadline in my life, I’ve been pondering some big questions about mortality, death, life and existence. You can imagine I’ve been a big hit on the holiday party circuit.
PARTYGOER: Hello Mike, I’m Jim. I am your next door neighbor’s friend’s cousin.
ME: What’s time?
PARTYGOER: (Looking at his watch): Oh it’s 7:50, Ten to 8.
ME: No! What is time?
(I enunciate with dramatic impact on the ‘is’.)
PARTYGOER: (Looks at me and squints after staring at his watch. He knows what time it is, alright: Time to go.)
So forgive my navel gazing. You may want to stop here because I dig myself into a black hole on this one as this blog post goes on.
You may not have time to read about time.
I worry I don’t have time to write about time, but am pulled by a great compulsion to understand more than I understand now. I know this has been studied some by Albert Einstein among others. But let’s just say I’m going to approach this without that extra burden of knowing anything at all about quantum physics.
I don’t have time.
How many times do you hear that? Or say that? What does it mean?
Doesn’t everybody have time? At least up until the end of life. So it’s not that we don’t have time, it’s just that we prioritized the time in a way that there is no more of it for something else.
[Hint No. 2, initiallythe poet and the character,]
But you could make time? You could cancel your 2 p.m. meeting to have lunch with your third grade classmate, whom you haven’t seen in decades, since, well, third grade. He’s just passing through. It’s your decision to make time or not.
Making time for lunch doesn’t mean you actually created any more time; you just replaced one time consumer with another. (BTW, go see the snotty little third grader, he might be interesting. This actually happened to me in Florida and I didn’t make time. Felt guilty for 20 years.)
People after long boring meetings (not at our work place, of course) have been known to say, ‘Well that’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back.”
Buck Chavez, a coach and semi-legendary basketball star in Marin County, Calif., was forever hustling everyone to get our Saturday pick-up games going. He hated the long process of shooting for teams. “Time is one thing they don’t make any more of,” he used to loudly proclaim.
My problem, starting with not having a degree in quantum physics, is that I always want to peek behind the curtain.
How does time work? Einstein has posited that time travel is possible, in theory, but there are so many paradoxes that make it seemingly impossible.
A chat website on a NASA.gov page featured a timely discussion about time travel, saying we are already traveling through time at the rate of 1 hour per hour.
It’s bending it down to something like 50 minutes per hour where time travel would be possible. Is that right? Kind of like messing with the time on your alarm clock. Or maybe that should be 70 minutes per hour? I’m already confusing myself.
Did I mention that I know absolutely nothing about quantum physics. Or the theory of relatives. (Although I do know that sitting in a dull meeting makes time seem unbearably slower than a vacation day on the beach.)
Here’s how the NASA folks on the website explain time travel based on Einstein’s theories.
Say you were 15 years old when you left Earth in a spacecraft traveling at about 99.5% of the speed of light (which is much faster than we can achieve now), and celebrated only five birthdays during your space voyage. When you get home at the age of 20, you would find that all your classmates were 65 years old, retired, and enjoying their grandchildren! Because time passed more slowly for you, you will have experienced only five years of life, while your classmates will have experienced a full 50 years.
So, shoot, keep up the support for Lewy Body dementia research, but I’m keeping an eye on time travel research as well.
A colleague of mine, AL.com and Reckoning columnist John Archibald gave me a book called Einstein’s Dreams. It’s a well regarded fictional collection by Alan Lightman. They are short ruminations of what Einstein might have been dreaming in 1906 when he worked at the patent office in Switzerland, pre-E=MC-squared.
One essay asks us to imagine a world in which people live just one day.
A lifetime is compressed to one turn of earth on its axis, or the rotation is slowed so much that one revolution of the earth occupies a whole human life.
(Hmmm. It doesn’t say anything about dog years . Sorry Gus.)
So one day, one life. That means, the book says, “a man or woman sees one sunrise, one sunset. In this world no one lives to witness the change of the season.”
On the other hand, suppose people live forever, the book says in another essay. Each city would divide into two groups, the Nows and the Laters.
The Nows, knowing they’ll live forever want to take advantage of everything, learning new skills, meeting new family members (think of your Christmas list as your grandchildren and their children live forever and procreating more relatives), trying new jobs, etc. Meanwhile, the Laters sit around and drink coffee and say, eh, I’ve got plenty of time to get to that. Sounds a little like the dichotomy I set up in Random vs. Straight Playlist.
I think I would be a Later, kind of like I think I lean more toward Random. That said, I think right now, I’m a Now.
So science has just enough answers to make it more confusing — and tantalizing. Art, like the Einstein Dreams novel, can help us understand. Or confuse us more.
Who better describes the bittersweet nature of passing time than T.S. Eliot in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
That’s what time is for us, I think. Measuring, counting minutes and longing for those moments long ago that we see frozen in photographs. And I think it is unfortunate that we see time as a measurement of a thing we don’t really understand.
For us, it’s not really what time is — but it’s what the clock says. Even if you change the time 9 minutes ahead on that clock, that doesn’t mean time changed. It may have momentarily changed your perception of time. But that was an illusion.
Kevin Harris in a forum on the Christian website Reasonable Faith said in a posting:
I think timelessness of God and his creation is the best explanation of all the evidence. True existence seems to be the eternal ‘now.’ Real time is imaginary; the mind imagines it. Imaginary time is what seems real to the human mind. But the human mind is simply observing motion and changes in the physical universe.
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It’s hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn’t go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
Retrospective: The Best of Buffalo Springfield (1968)
MVC Rating: 4.5/$$$
Their biggest hit, the Stephen Stills-penned “For What it’s Worth.’ is a cool relic of the 1960s protest era, which will still hit you in the face with its, ‘Stop, children, what’s that sound everybody look what’s going down.’
It does, however, take a little out of my admiration of the protest song, when I find out it is essentially a song about young folks partying loudly in a Sunset Strip neighborhood and the neighbors complaining, leading to counterculture kids protesting and police, perhaps, using a little too much leverage on the billy clubs. Curfew riots, they called them.
‘Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep.’
So I’m thinking Buffalo Springfield on this one was cutting their teeth on this whole protest thing. And a little later, Neil Young, after leaving the Springfield, blew everybody out of the water with ‘Ohio’ the angry tour de force about four college kids shot dead at Kent State. Now that, at the least, is worth an angry diatribe. Tin soldiers and Nixon’s coming.
(Memo to myself: write a blog post listing top protest songs.)
Great songs on this retrospective, no need to get anything else from Springfield, unless you are a huge fan or collector. As good of a band as they were, they were only together a few years. Members went on to be in Poco, Crosby Stills Nash and (later) Young. Great incubator of talent. Members of the The Byrds and Hollies were also in that rich cross-polenization.
I tend to like the Young songs best and have remained a huge fan for decades.
Young’s authorship on Springfield songs include, the Beatleesque Mr. Soul, and the fine Broken Arrow. with its relevant Native American references.
Others: the fragile, I Am a Child, the beautiful Expecting to Fly, and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing.
From Broken Arrow:
“Did you see them, did you see them? Did you see them in the river? They were there to wave to you. Could you tell that the empty quiver, Brown skinned Indian on the banks That were crowded and narrow, Held a broken arrow?”
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
ALBUMS: Songs You Know By Heart : Jimmy Buffett’s Greatest Hits (1985); Living and Dying in 3/4 Time (1974).
MVC Rating: Hits: 4.0/$$$; Living: 3.5/$$$
Middle of the road singer-songwriter. Notice I didn’t say mediocre. I admire, and enjoy, some of these Buffet hits, not just for the broad appeal and overall catchiness, but also for shrewd, descriptive lyrics such as in the rueful A Pirate Looks at 40.:
I made enough money to buy Miami, But I pissed it away so fast, Never meant to last, never meant to last.
He’s sold gazillions. Parrotheads follow and love Buffet like Deadheads did/do for Jerry Gracia and the Grateful Dead. (OK, Phish and Widespread Panic, too, sort of.) The difference in audiences may start at choice of intoxicants but goes beyond that. Buffet is Spring Break for Baby Boomers, with kids and grand-kids and coolers in tow.
I hereby declare Margaritaville to be the No. 1 all time song played by the highly tanned dude in a flowery shirt and acoustic guitar poolside at the oceanfront Holiday Inn.
Some people claim there’s a woman to blame, but I know it’s my own damn fault. (Possibly Buffet’s best line.)
Did Buffett single-handedly boost the now enormous tequila industry?
I always said Buffett made the only song reference to Hush Puppies, the shoe not the cornbread ball, in Come Monday. And he may be the only one to ever rhyme pop-top and flip-flop in a song.
So he has a lot of achievements.
But if I have to hear Cheeseburger in Paradise again, I might consider giving up one of my favorite foods. And if I have to hear Why Don’t We Get Drunk and …. again, I might consider giving up … oh, never mind.
NOTE: SInce I last reviewed Buffet in the above post, I happened on another $1 record find of Buffets album. I’m not going to give it a big review but just to say: It is not bad, a peek at him before he became famous hints of the qualities that made him famous. Those qualities are pleasant semi-story-telling songs that goes good with some beach time and beer time and the smell of coconut sunscreen.
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
I have said here before I have a Christmas playlist on my iPod numbering 625 songs. I call it my Christmas list but it also includes songs about Hannukah, Santa Claus, Snow, Grandma’s tragic reindeer story. That kind of thing.
Holiday songs they are, if I must use a phrase that sets off a silly argument.
I was going to give you another random playlist of those songs on the eve of Christmas Day. But I had a better non-original idea. If you were going to be stuck on a deserted island with only Christmas/Holiday music for three months, which five albums would you take?
Here are my 5, most of which I don’t have on vinyl (so this won’t go so far toward my countdown.) I do have them on my iPod and CDs.
No. 1: ‘Blue Yule.’(1991)
On the island you are going to need the blues to get you to that place of despair where you really don’t care anymore. Lightning Hopkins, John Lee Hooker and Sonny Boy Williamson will get you there. To ease out of that pit of despair and avoid serious withdrawal, you might need to transition with Elvis’ ‘Blue Christmas’ for a foot back into the real world and the fun and schlock of Jingle Bell Rock.
No. 2 Sufjan Stevens ‘Songs for Christmas (2006)
Five ep cd’s in one package, from this indie rock genius. On your island this will put the spirit of God back in you. Banjos on hymns sounds like a bad idea but Stevens is the only guy who can make a banjo sound forlorn. And he can raise his Ebenezer with the best. Watch out for his second package of Christmas songs, it gets even weirder — a little too much so. Get this one first.
No. 3 The Roches “We Three Kings.” (1990)
These three sisters from New Jersey kill it with harmonies. And I love when their Jersey accents kick in or, perhaps, sneak out. Most underrated Christmas album ever. Sustenance on the island.
No. 4 Phil Spector ‘A Christmas Gift for You’ or reissue “Phil Spector’s Christmas Album’ (1963, Original date)
Phil Spector’s records featuring girl groups and happy/sad songs as deep as the wax on an old hot rod, shallow but deeper than you’d think. This is on most critics best Christmas album lists. Spector’s ‘wall of sound’ was much emulated and he became one of the most sought after producers in the world. Now, he resides behind a wall of prison.
No. 5 George Winston – December (1982)
Hey you have to sleep on this island, ,right? May as well be to the sound of an absolute professional tickling the ivories of a Steinway. Beautiful music that makes you feel snuggly cold and warm at the same time.
NOTES: I have a Jimi Hendrix CD where he does Little Drummer Boy, among other songs and, of course, he could not restrain himself from using four dimensions of feedback. I also have a red hot CD of a punky group called the Fleshtones playing Christmas music. Other discs that deserve honorable mention include Festival of Lights (various), Best of Cool Yule (various) j Before and After Christmas (Love Tractor), Go Tell it on the Mountain (The Blind Boys of Alabama), The Best of Cool Yule (various), Christmas in Swing Time (Harry Allen, Christmas, Christmas (Bruce Cockburn) and Caravan (Squirrel Nut Zippers).
I thought they were British. And that was by their design. They were cashing in, (nothing pejorative about that) on the British invasion
Beatles, Stones, Who, Kinks, Buckinghams.. There, that last one, they are the British guys, right?
Nope they were from Chicago.
They had a flurry of hits, almost all of them in 1967, and I have their 1969 Greatest Hits record.
They are one of these bands that you can’t recall a song they did but when you hear ithe hits you know all the words.
‘Kind of a Drag,’ Mercy Mercy Mercy, and ‘Hey Baby, They’re Playing our Song’ all fit that bill.
After a few years they broke up and later, in the 1980s they toured on several oldies circuits including one called the Happy Together tour with the Turtles, Gary Puckett, and the Grass Roots.
Personal connection here: I was an acquaintance/friend of Rob Grill many years ago when both of our families lived in Lake County, FL. He was the lead singer of the Grass Roots,. He met a DJ in Central Florida got married and retired to pursue his fishing dreams. But he was still going out on tours now and again. This was late 1980s early 1990s.
The Grass Roots hits included MIdnight Confessions, Sooner or Later, Temptation Eyes, Let’s Live for Today, Two Divided By Love.
When I posted this yesterday, I hadn’t realized Grill died in 2011 in Lake County, the result of a head injury. RIP, brother. He was 67.
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
I’ve talked to some of my friends, jokingly, suggesting I do a ‘Lewy Mike’ stand-up comedy routine.
Here’s my routine, very much still in the early stages:
I walk out onstage to polite applause.
“Hello,” I say to the rapt, but small audience in a downtown comedy club.
“I am Mike Oliver and I have Lewy Body dementia.”
Scattered chattering, facial contortions of confusion, all related to questions along the lines of what the heck is Lewy Body dementia. I could have gone to see Star Wars over this stuff, a member of the audience might have proclaimed.
So I explain.
“It’s kind of a cross between Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s.”
Oh, the audience murmers, they’ve heard of those devastating degenerative brain conditions.
“And so I ask how many of you here tonight have Parkinson’s or have a loved one with this disease.
“Let’s get a show of shaking hands.”
I peer out and notice a handful of hands in the air, shaking. All right I say.
“Now those with Alzheimers:” (long pause)
I look around. “Well, just forget it.”‘
Um. (sporadic applause, low level booing. Mayday. Mayday. The blood is leaving what’s left of my brain.)
I step up to the microphone. “Uh, can’t you see,” I plead with the audience.
“I’m dying up here.’
Well, guess that is a little dark.
But it’s dark humor, a way to chase away the blues demons. I’ve tried this act to some select friends and we’ve had a good laugh. I want to let them know this condition, as utterly horrible as it is, and I’ve cried after meeting those in late stages knowing that may be me–it will not stop the love and laughing that I adore in my life.
A little fun. Disjointed. Not sure there was a direction. Random Play. (and you know I’m OK with that.)
Lindsey Buckingham was a key vocalist, songwriter and guitar player for Fleetwood Mac, one of the most successful bands in the 70’s and 80’s if not all time. This album sounds like a collection of Tusk and Rumours outtakes — which is not a bad thing, really. Rumours is a classic and its success both critically and commercially is in that rarefied air where the Beatles roam.
There’s just a lack of fluidity on this when you have a Tusk-like song Bwana, with its hints of Africa followed by a mild Fleetwood Mac b-sider-like song, Trouble. Pretty, though it is.
Shadows of the West, which oddly is the only song on the album without its lyrics printed on the sleeve has an interesting line: The setting of the sun scares me to death’ and it made me think of an opposite sentiment by the Rolling Stones in the song ‘Rocks Off.’
The sunshine bores the daylights out of me.
Maybe that’s why the differences between the Stones and the Mac are night and day.
But the teetering album, almost toppled by silliness, recovers with a splendific version ‘A Satisfied Man’ (see Below) Classic.
Last verse:
When life has ended, my time has run out My friends and my loved ones, I’ll leave, there’s no doubt But there’s one thing for certain, when it comes my time I’ll leave this old world with a satisfied mind
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
just replaced one time consumer with another. (BTW, go see the snotty little third grader, he might be interesting. This actually happened to me in Florida and I didn’t make time. Felt guilty for 20 years.)
