Wednesday, July 31, 2002

Something very few people know about me.

When I'm in my car alone, the radio is tuned either to the classical station, the jazz station, or ... brace yourself... the country station. I know, I know, but it's fun to listen in and hear friends of mine who are session players in Nashvegas fire up some hell-for-leather guitar riff or whatever.

I defy anybody, though, to find a song currently playing on the radio anywhere else that's as goll-durn funny and true-to-life as this one:

(commence slow melancholy hillbilly guitar strummin')

Well I love her, but I love to fish
I spend all day out on this lake, and hell is all I catch
Today she met me at the door, said I would have to choose
If I hit that fishin' hole today, she'd be packin' all her things
And she'd be gone by noon

(crank up the honkytonkin' pedal steel)
Well I'm gonna miss her, when I get home
But right now I'm on this lakeshore, and I'm sittin' in the sun
I'm sure it'll hit me, when I walk through that door tonight
That I'm gonna miss her -- oh, lookee there! I've got a bite!

(enter salty walkin' doghouse bass)
Now there's a chance that if I hurry, I could beg her to stay
But that water's right, and the weather's perfect
No tellin' what I might catch today

Well I'm gonna miss her, when I get home...
It's pronounced Ay-rab.

Although I doubt they'd ever actually let any ay-rabs in, for monster truck rallies or anything else.
Why don't we get drunk, cook some Redneck Ratatouille, call Pej and sing him songs about dead whores?

Guess you had to be there.