This entry will ramble and seem unpolished, but it will help meet me my four-entry per week goal I’ve set for myself. I plan on talking about Elvis, drywall, LSD, Mac Davis, construction contractors, hairy chests, beer, and rearranging furniture. This might feel a bit disjointed, but I feel like things are connected in some strange, six degrees of separation way. I apologize if it leaves you feeling dizzy or searching for your bearings. Heck, it’s my blog, so I guess I can do whatever I feel like doing. No apologies needed.
Last night I caught the Todd Snider show at the Granada Theater I won’t give you a review of the show, but Todd’s show is a testament to what a barefooted guy with a guitar, harmonica, great songs and stories can accomplish in an evening. I was thoroughly entertained and left the show being an even bigger Todd Snider fan, and his music will be heavy rotation the next few weeks. The highlight for me was a new song inspired by Dock Ellis, a pitcher for the Pittsburg Pirates who threw a no-hitter while under the influence of LSD. Todd said that he wrote the song because he felt that there weren’t enough songs about hallucinogenic drugs and sports out there. He might be right.
I was skeptical of this story, so I did some research. According to snopes.com, his LSD no-hitter is the gospel truth. From what I read about him on snopes.com, he was like the Hunter S. Thompson of major league baseball.
Chalk one up for truth being stranger than fiction.
This is just one of the many strange stories surrounding Mr. Ellis. I think, the Dock Ellis story should be translated to the big screen. I could see Don Cheadle in the title role.
I blessed to have a wife who doesn’t mind if I go out to occasionally hear live music. I just know that there are few ground rules that I have to follow. I limited myself to two beers at the show because I know that excessive drinking could result in harsh consequences upon returning home. Early in our relationship, when I was still courting my wife, I learned this lesson the hard way. At a wedding reception I attended with her, I drank too much. I could share some extreme exaggeration to illustrate how much I drank. Like my man William Faulkner said, "Sometimes a dog has to fight a bear just to know he's a dog." I had to fight that bear, but that’s not the point of the story. The point of the story is what happen the next morning. At 8:00 A.M. my wife decided that it would be a good day to rearrange our furniture. Five minutes into this endeavor I could smell alcohol sweating from my pores, and with each piece of furniture I moved I silently vowed to never place myself in this situation. That day I learned that my wife played hardball, and if I chose to get in the batter’s box with her in on the mound, I better be prepared for a little chin music. At least LSD didn’t play a role in this tale.
Anyway, the night of the Todd Snider show I was a good boy. Not only did I only have two beers, but I was able to pickup some groceries on the way home. Chalk one up for a guy getting wiser in his old age.
I’m going to wrap things up. I know – you’re thinking: What about Elvis, drywall, hairy chests, and the other miscellany that were promised in the opening of this blog. I’ll save this for another day. I need to leave something that will keep you coming back for more.
Love and happiness,