Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.


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    • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.


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          • December 8, 2012 1:01 am

            The Band - The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - The Last Waltz

            I don’t listen to music the way I used to. These days I’ll hear something in a song that I’ll need to hear over and over again. I listen to it several times and then it just kinda plays in my head for a few weeks. I’ll play it every now and again during this time, I don’t really listen to anything else. Its like I’m using the song to polish a diamond or as a mantra to keep my bearings in a strange land.

            This song is amazing in all the usual ways but what strikes me is that it’s a fairly elaborate structure built and designed to totally let yourself go in. Like designing an entire space program just to launch yourself into the sun.

            Whatever it is, it makes me intensely happy.