Good Morning Gentle Readers,
Burnt out. Just absolutely burnt out. So I shut down the moisture evaporators, poured a beaker of house wine, and fired up Mrs TWC's hang-on-the-wall TV. Nothing much on but I didn't care. Channel surfing with the House Blond; Pukes of Hazzard, Country Count Down, 100 Top Teen Stars. The boy was half watching between death matches between those Lego monsters. He's good with sound effects. My better half bailed with a migraine sometime between Daisy Duke and Brittany Spears. The House Blond and That Boy didn't let any grass grow neither.
Turns out that Ms Sixteen Candles is the number one all time top teen idol. Even if she's old. That's harsh reality but, boy howdy, it gets worse. Breakfast Club, John Hughes, and the Brat Pack is two decades past. What does that say about Sammy and the Rat Pack? It just sucks when the new stuff is old.
I don't want to know any more about that, so I flip over to Cream doing White Room at Royal Albert Hall last year (I double checked with the headphones on just now, and the last 45 seconds of bass, Clapton, and Baker's drums, well, awesome...still).
Ginger Baker looks like he just came off a gig for the Corpse Bride. I'm morbidly fascinated because Cream was the hot ticket and it's only been a couple of years since Ed Allerton corralled me in the hallway at Pacifica bellering in my face.....Sunshine of Your Love. Ed's dead these days and rumor has it that he went the way guys all think they'd like to go out. Born Naked, hope to die that way. Men really are just pigs.
Back to now and Jack Bruce looks like congestive heart failure waiting to happen but the bass is dancing like the old days and I'm not sure until half way thru the video that it's really Clapton, but then he does the guitar thing and there's no question about it.
Believe I'm Sinking Down regards,
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