The news is slim today, indeed, gang.
The fake Biden called “his friend” Xi a “Dictator” in front of everybody. (You know, for people who have no clue what’s going on, that all of this is fake, that Xi is in on the whole thing, they must just want to tear their hair out.)
And then a bunch of really offensive (paid actors?) “illegal” pro-Palestinian protestors attacked the DNC offices in DC last night and had everyone running for cover.
A lovely — and really, really, really REALLY loud — protestor:
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Honestly, that’s it.
Here’s that interview Nick Cave did with Rick Rubin right after his solo tour-with-bass-player ended in Los Angeles a couple weeks ago (1 hr 23 mins):
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Another great photo of Keith!! (You know, I’m putting together notes, notes, and more notes, for a memoir I am going to write about the various different father figures in my life, and Keith Richards is the only one of all of them who isn’t dead yet. (This doesn’t count my adoptive dad, who is terminally ill but still alive). Anyway. if you know anything about the life of Keith Richards, it is kind of amazing that he, of all people on Earth who had such a profound affect on my entire life, is still alive.)
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So, I am still a little bit sick with that cold but I have to head back to the train station today, because we are having our Beaujolais Nouveau 2023 celebration. starting tonight.
This was, of course, my idea, since no one on Earth expects a tiny 200-year-old train station in the middle of Nowhere Ohio to be celebrating the annual release of the Beaujolais Nouveau.
I had to basically beg for it, starting way back in September, and I finally got everyone onboard, and 2 cases of Georges Duboeuf were ordered and delivered, and the social media promotions went out — and so now I have to be in top energetic form to MOVE THOSE BOTTLES of wine before Thanksgiving, or at the very latest, by Christmas….
But my nighttime co-workers, who are a whole different breed from the daytime staff, except for one of the day shift girls who is like a daughter to me. But anyway. They are so enthusiastic. Everyone’s dressing in retro-French garb tonight and we’ll be blasting (and I mean blasting) 60s French pop music on the sound system — France Gall, Francoise Hardy, some famous Serge Gainsbourg duets, Dalida, Juliette Grecco, and various Ye Ye girls, etc.
My dear friend Kara is even going to stop in, either tonight or tomorrow. So it really should be fun. However… I am so fucking tired….
But on we go.
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Enjoy your Beaujolais Nouveau day, wherever you are in the world!
Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.
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I leave you with another great one from Tom Waits’ Rain Dogs, 1983 — which was just remastered and it is great!! This one below, “Gun Street Girl,” is not remastered here. And I have the lyrics below, too, because I think that some of the songs I posted yesterday are hard to understand. Okay. Enjoy.
“Gun Street Girl”
Falling James in the Tahoe mud
Stick around to tell us all the tale
He fell in love with a Gun Street girl and
Now he’s dancing in the Birmingham jail
Dancing in the Birmingham jail
Took a 100 dollars off a Slaughterhouse Joe
Bought a bran’ new Michigan 20 gauge
Got all liquored up on that roadhouse corn
Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvette
Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvette
Bought a second hand Nova from a Cuban Chinese
Dyed his hair in the bathroom of a Texaco
With a pawnshop radio, quarter past 4
Well he left Waukegan at the slammin’ of the door
He left Waukegan at the slammin’ of the door
I said, John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
I said John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
Sitting in a sycamore in St. John’s Wood
Soakin’ day old bread in kerosene
He was blue as a robin’s egg brown as a hog
Stayin’ out of circulation till the dogs get tired
Stayin’ out of circulation till the dogs get tired
Shadow fixed the toilet with an old trombone
He never got up in the morning on a Saturday
Sittin’ by the Erie with a bull whipped dog
Tellin’ everyone he saw
They went thatta way
Tellin’ everyone he saw
They went thatta way
Now the rain’s like gravel on an old tin roof
And the Burlington Northern’s pullin’ out of the world
With a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw
And a Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all
A Gun Street girl was the cause of it all
Riding in the shadow by the St. Joe Ridge
He heard the click clack tappin’ of a blind man’s cane
Pullin’ into Baker on a New Year’s Eve
With one eye on the pistol and the other on the door
With one eye on the pistol and the other on the door
Miss Charlotte took her satchel down to King Fish Row
And she smuggled in a bran’ new pair of alligator shoes
With her fireman’s raincoat and her long yellow hair, well
They tied her to a tree with a skinny millionaire
They tied her to a tree with a skinny millionaire
I said, John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
I said John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
Bangin’ on a table with an old tin cup
Sing I’ll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again
I’ll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again
I said, John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
I said John, John he’s long gone
Gone to Indiana
Ain’t never coming home
c – 1983 Thomas Alan Waits
Marilyn's Room 