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TWC has a vintage Mohawk gas pump with a similar logo in the garage that's been awaiting restoration for a long time. Originally installed in a filling station, after modernization in the 1930's the pump ended up servicing a cattle ranch just outside of Sonora Ca until the 1940's or early 1950's.
TWC first gazed longingly at it thirty years ago and at the time it was remarkably well preserved. Unfortunately over the intervening years, the weather wasn't kind. I ended up with custody thanks to the generosity of my uncle, but by then that old thick lead based paint had begun to come off in big curled chunks that look like they dregs of a dried up mud puddle in the desert.
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.
Been buried for a week or better but I found some time last evening to help That Boy fish coyote teeth out of the garbage disposal. That is high-dollar Quality Time and a story for another day.
And here's something very cool. This is a working telephone in the lobby of the Loews Hotel in Beverly Hills. Note the HOllywood exchange and the original fabric covered cord........Please dial HO 3-5151 and ask for extension 6.
The Loews Beverly Hills is a proud sponsor of The Wine Commonsewer.