WhoTom

I always thought the Talking Heads were just okay; when a friend turned me on to this movie, I gained a whole new appreciation for them.

Well I hope we're not too messianic Or a trifle too satanic But we love to play the blues But I am just a monkey man I'm glad you are a monkey woman too

My wife and I just returned from a road trip. Along the way, we listened to Led Zeppelin II. I was just telling her that this album was my intro to LZ back in the early 70s, and the first time I heard to it was at a friend's house. We had Whole Lotta Love cranked when his mom came home from work and said, "WHAT in THE HELL are you boys listening to???" Many years later, some college buddies turned me on to the Grateful Dead, mostly through bootleg tapes, so I didn't know any songs, but I loved the jams. When I went to grad school in Binghamton, I found a used record store where I stumbled across a copy of Blues for Allah, so I bought it. The first "song" (actually three songs with no stops in between) was Help on the Way/Slipknot/Franklin's Tower. I was immediately blown away, and to this day it's my favorite Dead song. (Live versions are even better that the studio version.)

Obviously, he meant this guy:

That's exactly what I was thinking. I don't care about his musical preferences. Heck, my brother's favorite band is Journey, but I haven't disowned him yet.

Game of chance, the other night Old dame fortune was doing me right The Kings and Queens kept on coming 'round Now I drew a full, I betted high My bluff didn't work on a certain guy Kept on betting, layin' his money down He'd raise me and I'd raise him Sweated blood, you gotta sink or swim Finally called, then didn't raise the bet I said, "Aces full, pal, how 'bout you?" He said, "I'll tell you in a minute or two Right now I gotta have another cigarette" Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette Puff, puff, puff and if you puff yourself to death Tell Saint Peter at the golden gate Oh, Lord, you hate to make him wait But you gotta have another cigarette

Now roll them cases out and lift them amps Haul them trusses down and get 'em up them ramps 'Cause when it comes to moving me You know guys are the champs But when that last guitar's been packed away You know that I still want to play So just make sure you got it all set to go Before you come for my piano But the band's on the bus And they're ready to go We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago Or Detroit, I don't know We do so many shows in a row And these towns all look the same We just pass the time in the hotel rooms And wander 'round backstage Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd And we remember why we came

Trying to make some sense of it all But I can see that it makes no sense at all Is it cool if I go sleep on the floor? 'Cause I don't think I can take anymore Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, Here I am, stuck in the middle with you

I live in an apartment on the ninety-ninth floor of my block And I sit at home looking out the window Imagining the world has stopped Then in flies a guy who's all dressed up just like a Union Jack And says, "I've won five pounds if I have his kind of detergent pack" I says, "hey, you, get off of my cloud Hey, you, get off of my cloud Hey, you, get off of my cloud Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd On my cloud, baby" (Side note: I was about 3 when that song came out. I don't remember this, but my older sister tells me that I used to sing, "Hey, you, get off of my couch!")

Isn't there a cloud somewhere for you to yell at? ?

I'm going home And when I want to go home, I'm going mobile Well I'm gonna find a home on wheels, see how it feels, Goin' mobile Keep me moving I can pull up by the curb, I can make it on the road, Goin' mobile I can stop in any street And talk with people that we meet Goin' mobile Keep me moving Out in the woods Or in the city It's all the same to me When I'm driving free The world's my home When I'm mobile

If only. Unfortunately, there are plenty of people who cheer loudly for clueless bloviating idiots.

You never give me your money You only give me your funny paper And in the middle of negotiations You break down I never give you my number I only give you my situation And in the middle of investigation I break down Out of college, money spent See no future, pay no rent All the money's gone, nowhere to go Any jobber got the sack Monday morning, turning back Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go Oh, that magic feeling Nowhere to go, nowhere to go

But it's not better than representatives - actual representatives, not elected officials who sell out to the highest bidder. Take the money out of politics and we get a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

In EJ's first season, did he look even remotely as good as Josh did last year? Didn't think so.

I was born in a cross-fire hurricane And I howled at the morning driving rain But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas But it's all right. I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash It's a gas, gas, gas

You know Hollywood has run out of original ideas when they start making remakes of remakes.

I'm gonna write a little letter Gonna mail it to my local DJ It's a rockin' rhythm record I want my jockey to play Roll over Beethoven, I gotta hear it again today You know, my temperature's risin' And the jukebox blows a fuse My heart's beatin' rhythm And my soul keeps on singin' the blues Roll over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news

I think he would: https://www.indystar.com/story/entertainment/music/2016/05/23/grateful-dead-garcia-tiger-alembic-mayer-colts-irsay-weir-company/84809668/

As I was walking down the street one day A man came up to me and asked me what the time was that was on my watch, yeah And I said Does anybody really know what time it is Does anybody really care (care about time) If so I can't imagine why (no, no) We've all got time enough to cry

Blue cheese on celery; wings don't need anything besides the sauce.

Down with disease Three weeks in my bed Trying to stop these demons that keep dancing in my head Down with disease Up before the dawn A thousand barefoot children outside dancing on my lawn And I keep Waiting for the time when I can finally say That this has all been wonderful but now I'm on my way But when I think it's time to leave it all behind I try to find a way but there's nothing I can say to make it stop

I was thinking specifically of of Rob Ryan's recent statement, but in general, it applies to all kinds of uber-wealthy people, including Spreewell.

Love is a burning thing And it makes a fiery ring Bound by wild desire I fell in to a ring of fire I fell into a burning ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher And it burns, burns, burns The ring of fire The ring of fire The taste of love is sweet When hearts like ours meet I fell for you like a child Oh, but the fire went wild I fell into a burning ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher And it burns, burns, burns The ring of fire The ring of fire

Uptown got its hustlers The Bowery got its bums 42nd street got big Jim walker He's a pool shootin' son of a gun Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come But he stronger than a country hoss And when the bad folks all get together at night You know they all call big Jim boss, just because And they say You don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger And you don't mess around with Jim