Another day, another dollar/dollar-and-a-half, depending on where you live, and we arrive, breathless and just a tad giddy, at the cusp of yet another glorious possibility of a weekend.
And as we have in the past, we look to my iPod and its shuffled-song predictions for the future.
Because everyone knows that the songs played during Friday morning’s commute have bearing on the upcoming weekend.
Do Without by BNLX
Absolute by The Fray
Too Fake by Hockey
Uprising by Muse
You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse
Stand by Sly & The Family Stone
Rudie Can't Fail by The Clash
You know that guy you thought would be fun to meet up with again, just for old time’s sake? The iPod says that you should still go, but don’t forget what you’re dealing with. What’s that mean? It means a couple beers and everyone’s your friend, just leave the ability to get to any substantial amount of cash at home…
I’m thinking that would be the smart thing to do.
And speaking of old time’s sake…
As has been well documented by, well, me, I played in an Old Tyme Band (yes, the “y” is necessary, but no one knows why) in high school. The leader of the band, a 60-something-year-old man by the name of Aloysius, could play anything – anything – on the accordion and would gleefully shout the chord changes to us over his shoulder in a German accent.
Sure I know “Autumn Leaves”! Just shout the chord changes to me, Al!
There was an array of players, and the band could go from four to a dozen easily, dependent on how much the ballroom was willing to pay. We were a goofy lot. Sax, trumpet, and tuba players from the U of M drifted in and out, bringing coolers of beer and weed with them. We even had Eddie Berger, a jazz great in Minneapolis, join us for a bit, shortly after rehab.
In the summers, it was not unusual for us to play in parades. Dressed in black pants, white shirts, we played our little two-stepping hearts out, smiling and sweating past sidewalks lined with small-town America, babies on their fathers’ shoulders, children dashing into the streets and between the floats, snatching the wrapped candies thrown by the Shriners.
Can you see it? A polka band – accordion, clarinet, trumpet, and drums – in a parade.
On a float.
Behind the goats.
Nervous, pooping goats.
At least they weren’t elephants.
At some point, I believe I began to joke – as is my wont – about being stuck behind the business end of a herd of farm animals and continually having our float pulled through mounds of pellet-shaped goat droppings.
Aloysius beamed a sweaty, Teutonic smile at me from behind his accordion. “Ach,” he sputtered, “Das ist gut for you! Tink of dem as smart pills!”
Smart pills.
Even today, that makes me smile.
That load of crap in front of you? Looked at in the right light, it’s only going to make you smarter.
I hope your weekend is full of shit that makes you smarter.
Come on back any time. I’ll be here tomorrow, too…
About Bob Dylan
5 days ago
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34 comments:
Is that where your desire to work in black pants and white shirts started?
I like Aloysius...he has a good attitude.
Coolers of weed?! Party animals.
Delores, you know, I noticed that as I typed it. :-) Even the concerts I played Sunday and Tuesday nights this last week were in black pants and a white shirt...
Joshua, :-) We came to party. Oh, and to play some wicked schottisches and mazurkas...
Yeah, you were luck they were goats and not a whole posse of horses pooping road apples. A parade has an odor all its own, animal poop, sweat, cotton candy and animal poop. But I love every parade, especially the ones with live polka bands on flat bed trailers being pulled by the biggest big ass John Deere green tractor in the valley. Uff Dah!
It's hard to march through poo - it slows progress.
Was it your band making the goats nervous? Shame on you, frightening dumb animals . . . and why goats in a parade? Were they advertising goats' milk or cheese?
You got his number?? I would be interested in his opinion of the goose droppings we have an abundance of here.
Thanks for the Friday chuckles! And the songs! Have a fun filled weekend!
As the optimist said: "With all that horse sh*t there has got to be a pony somewhere in there" It's all in attitude....and I like yours!
smart pills? i like it! next time i hear a kid complaining about having to clean up dog poop, i'm going to tell them it's good for them. like smart pills.
Leenie, sounds like you've been there!!
jabblog, in the middle of Minnesota, it's hard to know WHY there are goats in a parade. Maybe they were in it for the free candy, too...
Simply, ol' Al's gotta be long gone by now, but I'm sure he'd have an opinion on goose droppings...
KaLynn, thank you, and you do the same!
Daisy, I just love that. :-)
Sherilyn, I'm pretty sure there's a lesson in pretty much all of the stinkier chores. Ya just gotta look...
It's like a modern fable (except with mostly human characters). I like Aloysius' outlook.
Have a good weekend!
jenny_o, he was a trip. :-) Have a good weekend!
Where I grew up, Old Tyme Music consisted of fiddlers playing jigs and reels and Scottish pipers paraded through the XL droppings from Clydesdale horses. I rather like the notion of polka bands and goats - it seems much more fun.
The smart pills I take each day, do not resemble goat poop, and I don't feel any smarter, I am gonna go do some research here.
Did I ever show you the photo of Pup making friends with one of the Budweiser Clydesdales ?
Heartbreakingly sweet , the horse loved him :)
Kara, sounds like you got the full-priced version! Although I do agree that even the words "pooping goats" is somehow more amusing than "pooping horses", although "a Clydesdale's dump" somehow sounds like a lot of fun...
That might just be me.
ABroad, I don't think so, no! Send it to me. Good ol' Pup -- a loved dog who knew how to reciprocate.
Here is Clyde. The Budweiser horse that Pup fell in love with
http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lsce8nBFXo1qgju3co1_500.jpg
a beauty, no ?
Two minds, two hearts that beat as one, are we, my Pearl of Great Price.
You need to come read my post today.
SMART PILLS!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!
You know, of course, that not everything in life is black or white?
I love a parade. As an teen Air Cadet I got to march in the Calgary Stampede parade several after which we got free passes to the fair grounds. Good times. The horse poop scoop guys always walked in front of us so we didn't have to march through poop.
so long as your rolling over the crap in life and not being drowned in it -
what a cool memory.
First tyme I was ever wished a shitty weekend with amicable intent.
Have a great weekend your ownself. --vanilla
I like that guy's attitude. I'll bet he found the sunny side to everything! My hubby is like that. It is very annoying.
Brilliance! I definitely need to reframe the "poop" I'm going through... hopefully it'll make me smarter! At least I'm working on my hygiene...
You have Sly and the Family Stone on your I Pod too!
Oh my, I think I am in l....
You'd think I'd be in mensa by now. =P
What a great outlook on life!
Good grief woman! You cannot escape the black pants and the white shirt!
Smart pills! That is what I will have to remember when I'm face with piles and piles of crap....which lately seems to be surrounding me. By the time I wade through it all I'll be freakin' brilliant!
Have a great weekend, Pearl!
The last time I was in charge of a goat, mayhem ensued. After it ate all of the noxious weeds in a friends backyard (which was good)it proceeded to knock down the clothesline and eat all of her undergarments (which was bad, considering I was 'in charge of the beast). They eat everything.
I got an old tyme yelling delivered to me. Sans tuba and glockenspiel.
I grew up on a farm, and have a thorough knowledge about excrement. Whoa...the day Dad had to dig a new hole for the outhouse! That was one shining moment, for he also had to pack down and fill in the old outhouse hole. My little brother and sister watched him from the edge, while they ate Hershey bars. He was gagging the whole time.
Marching band, oh gawd, I played the sax, sort of. Missed the goats, but got kicked out of band and choir. As always, funny post!
Thanks, Pearl, for another post that leaves me smiling -- and thinking about the wry wisdom of it all!
A lot of my weekends are full of shit, but I'm not any smarter....maybe I should get a goat?
I never thought about people in marching bands being high. Now I understand why the Shriners think those funny little hats are cool. They are hitting the bong pre-parade.
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