Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 6

Breakfast
it's what's for dinner

Work the next day was quick and uneventful. My job was done and the supervisor signed off on it so I was free to drive home. The day was also entirely without food - I was in such a rush to get out to the shop that I completely skipped the continental breakfast -bye bye strawberry yogurt and bagels with cream cheese. I also skipped lunch entirely because I was right in the middle of a problem at the time, and right on the verge of getting done... or so I had thought - no sloppy joes for me. But, hey, I was done, I had per diem, and I was hungry...

In other places, other cities or even large towns, this isn't a problem. But in Moncks Corner, well... this was a dangerous combination.


I left the shop and stopped off at this little local "Waffle-House wannabe" joint. I think it may have actually BEEN a Waffle House at one point but it was now just a local diner.

Which begs the question - how far down do you have to get to be a Waffle House WANNABE?

The stomach having obviously won the argument with my brain over whether or not it looked "safe enough" to eat in, I pulled up into the dirt and gravel... well, mostly dirt, parking lot and got out of my car with trepidation in my heart and ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in my stomach. I opened the glass doors and walked in to the diner...

Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 5

Now, don't get me wrong. The people of Moncks Corner, for the most part (as you will see later), are fine folk. The town is a nice, quiet town, if just a bit backwater. It actually reminds me of the closing number from the South Park : Bigger, Longer, and Uncut movie, one of the finest musicals ever made:

Mountain Town Reprise

Chef:
. Everything worked out. What a happy end!
. Americans and Canadians are friends again.
. So let's all join hands and knock oppression down!
Choir:
. Good Lordy, I'm found!
The boys:
. Don't you know our little lives are now complete?
The moms:
. 'Cause Terrance and Phillip are sweet.
Sheila:
. Super sweet!
All:
. Thank God we live in this quiet, little, pissant, redneck, podunk, jerkwater, greenhorn, one-horse,
. mud-hole, peckerwood, right-wing, whistle-stop, hobmail, truck-drivin', old-fashioned, hayseed,
. inbred, unkempt, out-of-date, out-of-touch, white-trash..
The boys:
. Kick-ass!
All:
. Moun - tain town!

So, having made my disclaimer, let me continue with the tale...

I worked all day, setting up their software and fixing what was wrong. That first day went by like a charm and the shop supervisor was pleased. There was much rejoicing. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, one of the contacts from my home office had also told him that I was a pool-player. This much was true. I played in both an 8-ball and 9-ball league back in Richmond, and while I was no championship caliber player, I could hold my own against most people - I even had the occasional win against said type of competition, so I wasn't a total slouch. It turned out that the supervisor at the customer shop also liked to shoot pool a lot so he invited me for a few beers and a few racks at a local bar.

Now, let me explain something about Blue Laws to those of you not from the Bible Belt area. Blue Laws are basically a hold over from the overly-puritanical days of the colonies, and they are found in fair quantities in the Bible Belt... hence the name. The most noted of these laws are:

• no working on Sunday - you know, at first glance this looks like a good thing... but picture this - if there is NO working on Sunday, that means no grocery store, gas station, bar, restaurant, or even a movie theater can be open. This is good for forcing community building by making church about the only social activity going on, but it can be a real pain in the ass come football (and beer) season.
• no public alcohol sales - nuff said

Now in the greater area of South Carolina, the Blue Laws results in a few surprising results:

• No alcohol sales on Sunday
• No alcohol sales from grocery stores - this includes beer and wine.
• they can't sell liquor in any bottle larger than just a few ounces. This means that the ABC/liquor store can only sell those tiny little bottles you find on airplanes or in hotel wet bars. This INCLUDES bars. Go check it out - it's weird watching bartenders in action down there. Click the picture for the story... seriously
  
• In many locations, since bars are ILLEGAL, some places have "clubs" - when you are a member of a club, you can then buy alcohol beverages. So if you go to a bar, in order to buy a drink, you have to become a member. Period. Is that weird or what?

So, in order for me to just have a few beers and shoot pool with my newfound pool buddy, I had to go and fill out a club membership form and pay 5 bucks (which he paid for me - thanks, man!) to join. Once I did that, I could buy all the beer I wanted. Some places in South Carolina have, obviously, overturned these laws - mostly in the larger cities (of which there are a whole 2 in South Carolina) and the beach area, where they want their tourist trade to thrive with drunk visitors... like in Myrtle Beach.

Now then, the joint we went to was a single building establishment with a few pool tables and a bar - and they served beer in the can. Yep, classy. But we had a good enough time shooting pool and shootin the shit, as it were, but I couldn't escape the feeling that at least half that county was pointing their fingers at me and shouting "SINNER!!!"

Ah well, and so I crashed that night in the motel, ready for work the next day...
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Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 4

Some years passed since that first trip down to Moncks Corner... and I had mistakenly thought myself free of the small town. I mean, let's be real. The town's very name makes it sound like a quiet place where nothing happens, right? At least nothing fun, right? I mean, it sounds like the home of a monastery, doesn't it? Or is it just me?

Well, on my first visit to Moncks Corner, I never really got the chance to get out and about and meet the indigenous population- the locals - in their native habitat. And let me tell you what, backwoods North Carolinians are an ... interesting bunch. But I didn't get to... observe them then. Rather, I simply went into our customer's shop, installed all the equipment and software as instructed, and skipped out the next day. We did receive a ride to that airport, and I use that term lightly, from the supervisor of the customer's shop - no truck ride with junkyard dog for me this time. Oh no! We went "high style" and rode in the company Dodge Neon, baby! Go Mopar!

That was years ago. A few years after that quiet, ominous, foreshadowing of a trip, my company ran into a bit of dry spell. We sold off the company plane - the advent of numerous "cheap and dirty" airlines (you know the type? - Valujet and their ilk) - made it economically unfeasible to keep it. Which was fine by me... at least until that whole Valujet airlines making various impromptu ocean landing strips" business. Cutting through the odd haze of the last several years and thinking back on it, you know, I didn't mind flying around in that little plane; but the loud drone of the engine and the barely pressurized cabin (to 10000 ft) got a bit wearing on my sinuses and eardrums. So much for my dreams of a cheaper way to becoming a licensed pilot, eh? Ahh well...

In any event, it turned out that we had to return to Moncks Corner. I got the "lucky draw" for the trip, so I decided to drive instead. I do like "earning" mileage. Back then, I believe the rate was 28 cents per mile, or something close to it. Gas, waaaay back then, was just over a buck a gallon... maybe a $1.22 / gallon? (Anyone else remember the middle ages?) Well, let's do the math - about 600-700 miles round trip @ .28/mile... that's about 200 bucks in my pocket for driving (minus the gas). I definitely needed the money then so...

I drove my Camaro down there. I had just recently purchased it and was very much jazzed about it. I had just recently installed a new stereo system with Infinity speakers (only the best, baby) and a CD head unit. Oh yeah! Considering my previous car had been a somewhat less than new Dodge Omni (the version that looked like a chinese take out box turned upside down) with a tape deck that only played properly in one direction - it ate tapes the other way - and could only receive fm stations under between 96 or so and 103... well, you get the idea. It also had enough power to go from zero to 60 in under an hour! Yeah, so I dug my new ride.

Now this trip, of course, afforded me the "opportunity" for viewing some of the local sights, at the expense of me having to drive the 300 or so miles down... hooray. (Yes, the lack of an exclamation point and the presence of a period instead was intentional. Can you hear the rejoicing I was doing? I didn't think so.) The ride down was quick and drama-free - a welcome change, as I am sure you would guess - and I arrived at the customer shop early. And so started my revisit to Moncks Corner...
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Why What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas

So before I go into another tale about Moncks Corner, here is a conversation I heard today...

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Woman1 - Yeah, our company party was more company dinner than anything else.

Woman2 - The best one we had was a B**** Inn.

Woman1 - Yeah, that was a lot of fun. There was music, you (indicating me) brought your guitar, there was drinking, you could smoke there. We stayed there till after midnight - they were closing up the shop on us.

Woman2 - That was a lot of fun

Woman1 - But this year? Hmm... the Children's Hospital actually puts on a GREAT party...

Woman2 - Well, you haven't seen anything until you've been to a Phillip Morris Christmas party. They give you a bunch of fake money and then they have all these tables set up...

Woman1 - really?...

Woman2 - Yeah, let's see... they had one table set up with, what's it called, Russian Roullette. You know, with the table and the round wheel

Me, Woman1 [start laughing]

Me - (chuckling) Russian Roullette? No, I think you mean Roullette.

Woman2 - What did I say?

Me [demonstrating with hand motions] - You said, "Russian Roullete." That's when they take a gun, put one bullet in it, spin the chamber then take a single shot at your own head..

Woman2 - Oh, well then I didn't play that.

Me, Woman1 [howl hysterically]

Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 3

But that wasn't my only trip to Moncks Corner...

Oh no, not by a long shot...

And you would think that a town that sounds like it was named for some place a priest goes to do politically correct self-punishment would be a lot kinder and gentler than it turned out to be...

And that story, my friends, begins with...

a diner...
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Moncks Corner - Part 2

Annual Number of Sunny Days for Cities in the United States

Source of Information: National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), National Climatic Data Center

City	Years Included in the Averageverage	Sunny Days per Year
YUMA,AZ	32	242
PHOENIX,AZ	57	211
LAS VEGAS,NV	47	210
BISHOP,CA	29	201
FRESNO,CA	46	194
EL PASO,TX	53	193
TUCSON,AZ	55	193

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PITTSBURGH,PA	43	59
BURLINGTON,VT	52	58
SEATTLE SEA-TAC AP,WA	51	58
VALDEZ,AK	21	58
LIHUE,HI	46	56
BUFFALO,NY	52	54
BARTERIS.,AK	34	53
BINGHAMTON,NY	44	52
OLYMPIA,WA	54	52
KING SALMON,AK	42	51

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Yep. A very sad place is Binghamton... but I wasn't talking about Binghamton, was I? Nope. I was talking about that backwater, whistlestop town known as Moncks Corner...

Way back then, the company that I worked for was just a small enterprising young group and we actually had a company plane. I never quite figured out the necessity of having one, but I guess the ability to schedule flights at any time, flying to any of the thousands of municipal airports, as opposed to only being able to fly where the airlines went, made up for what I imagined to be the extra cost. I think, with enough flights, it might have been cost effective, but I believe that was also back in the day when we had some decent sales people - ones who could actually manage to, oh I don't know, sell something.

Well on my first trip to Moncks Corner, we flew direct to the little muni airport in Moncks Corner, tiny little 1 runway affair with a terminal smaller than most reststop welcome center buildings. We landed and had to "park" our own plan, tie it down, etc. We went in to the terminal - they actually had a rental car counter there, of course... but, wouldn't you know it, it was after 5pm and they were closed. The entire terminal was CLOSED. You could still walk in to use the restroom, but all the lights were off and nobody was in.

I have never before been to an airport that CLOSED.

So there we were, stuck in the middle of a large field which was, in turn, stuck in the middle of nowhere with the several computers and barcode printers and scanners that we had brought with us to install at our customer's site. Across the not-recently-mowed field, there was what appeared to be a large hanger/garage - it was the only other sign of civilization in sight so we walked over there to see what was what.

It was, in fact, a garage and in the garage was a mechanic... and a junkyard hound dog. This guy was very cool and being that he was associated, after a fashion, with the airport, he agreed to help us out and give us, and our equipment, a ride to the hotel. So he brought his pickup truck over and helped us load all the stuff into the back. The pilot rode up front with the mechanic. I rode in the back with the equipment and the dog.

Nice, yeah? I bet many of you are not believing a word of this... Whelp, just for you doubters out there, here is a satellite image of the airport:

Scenic Moncks Corner.
Can you smell the manure from here?
(Click on the pic to read the notes)

We rode through some backwoods neighborhood areas and eventually arrived at our 1.5 star motel, not far from the customer site. I couldn't help but be bouyed by hope of a night life in the town as I saw that this place was TRULY advanced in culture.

Why?

Well, not only did they have karaoke on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but they had

LASER KARAOKE!!!

What more could I possibly ask for?
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Moncks Corner - Part 1

Sometimes I have to travel for work - fly out of town all over the country, maybe drive. It doesn't happen often, and sometimes I have to drive. That's okay - the Del Sol gets great mileage and I get to score 44.5 cents per mile when I do... at least until the government changes that rate AGAIN. Sometimes I get to go to really cool places.. for example:

Modesto - the hometown of George Lucas. Not so great in and of itself (another story to be told), but the flight in goes right through San Francisco, and if you time your trips carefully, you can score a day of sightseeing and whatnot on an expense report. Hey, it WAS the only flight out that day...

Las Vegas - Nuff said. What I did there, well... it stayed there... and that's a GOOD thing.

Miami - Latinas, beaches, and rum. The entire city has a soundtrack for partying... seriously.

Myrtle Beach - It's a bit trashy in sections, but still a party town in the summer... lots of hotties and warm, sunny weather is NEVER a bad thing.

Of course... sometimes the places aren't quite so cool...

Myrtle Beach... in the winter - Talk about a ghost town. I remember passing by numerous fun-looking businesses... all closed from OCTOBER til MARCH. What the hell? It's not like we're talking Maine in winter here, people! This is South Carolina! Ahh well..

Binghamton, New York - I recall reading some statistic (aka sadistic) that stated that it has fewer days of sunlight than even dreary, suicide-famous Seattle. Hooray.

Storm Lake, Iowa - tiny town in the middle of nowhere with a really coolly-named lake... and a gigantic slaughterhouse that appears to be the town's major industry. I will never forget the feeling of stepping out into the 90-plus degree, hot, humid morning air... downwind of that plant - it was right behind our lakefront motel. I think a sledge to the gut would be the closest approximation in describing it.
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Still, new places always afford new experiences, and what would life be without new experiences? Dull. Boring. Passe'. All of the above. And so, one time, waaaay back in the mid-90's, I had to go to this little town called Moncks Corner, South Carolina ...

County seat of Berkeley County, South Carolina... last census pegged population at an amazing 5952. See this Wikipedia article for details about this bustling Rednecktropolis...
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ROAD TRIP - Part 9

Alrighty then... where was I? Oh, right... I remember now. I pissed off this 60-something dude and he was trying to act like he was going to jump me...

Now then, I may be a bit out of shape (yeah, okay, so maybe a bit more than a bit - back off, I'm workin' on it) and have had some recent and nagging back and neck problems due to that accident I had about a year ago (that dude that rear-ended me and TRIED to drive off?)... AND my knee might have some issues during winter because of a bad turn in a pickup basketball game from years ago AND an unfortunate turn on the bunny slopes at Massanutten (also known as Massanuthin - never said I was a World Class skier, did I?) - I turned 90 degrees but my left foot decided it really didn't want to go that way... you know, knees aren't supposed to bend that way. Even with all that against me, I felt pretty confident that I could've taken this guy. Yeah, it's not really saying much when you're talking about a 60-plus guy, but I just wanted to make sure you know...

Anyway, I was in the middle of the last few verses of "Vaseline" and I just sort of let the song die out cause Old Guy was stepping up to the bar and making a huge scene out of it. I was trying to hear what was going on and I realized that I had pissed this guy off. Now I'm an easy going sort of fellow and I don't like upsetting people when I play, so I immediately put down the guitar and walked over to the bar to apologize for having offended him - you know, I just like entertaining people, what's the point of pissing them off, right? I even offered him my hand as a gesture...

and he didn't take it. He just looked at it as if I had worms AND leprosy and scowled at me while he was bitching to Vito, the owner, about "having never been so offended in all my life" and how "[he] was such a good customer and he didn't feel it was right to be treated this way." Vito, to my surprise, was responding to him with comments like : "Yeah,yeah, whatever. Everyone else is having a good time and your just trying to ruin it for everyone. Shut up, ya pain in the ass" in that classic New York Italian accent.

I love this guy. Vito flat out rocks. What can I say?

Meanwhile, there's that younger woman, looking at me with what my good friend has named "the glad eye of connubial acquiescence." Don't bother trying to steal that phrase - I am pretty sure it has been trademarked. I mean, hell, if you can trademark "Let's Get Ready to Ruummbbllleeee!!!" then why the hell not, right?

Here is one version of "the look"
this photo borrowed from : mia's Mint Jelly blog

If you don't feel like figuring out what that means - it was THAT look, the one that says, "Oh yeah. I could do you right now and I would enjoy it." Like I said, sometimes it's unmistakable and I actually DO catch it. Must be that musician thing, eh?

In any case, this guy, Old Guy, is brushing past me with younger woman (with the "glad eyes") in tow. I apologized to my man Vito cause I hate to be the cause of any business owner losing custom, but he simply said, "Bah, don't worry about it. That guy comes in here all the time and he's a friggin pain in the ass... ALL THE TIME! You were doin' great - go on, play some more." By this time, though, I thought it might be good to take a short break...

The audience was none too pleased with this. They really, REALLY wanted me to play some more. That was VERY gratifying after having Old Guy get all huffy and causing a ruckus. So a bit later, after some cajoling and many offers for drinks, and after the hottie girl played a few more tunes, I got back up on the stage.

I played several other songs, including a few of my "special tunes" such as "Men are Assholes" and let's see... what else? Oh, I have this medley tune that I do that includes bits and pieces of La Bamba, Wild Thing, Louie Louie, and a few other tunes - the big finish being Simon & Garfunkel's "Me and Julio", with alternate Dice-man inspired lyrics at the end.

There is a big space available in there for improvisational lyrics in the "Louie Louie" segment due to the very nature of that song. I mean, does anyone REALLY know what the hell they are singing there? Well, I made up lyrics, as I sometimes do, right on the spot and on the fly, and I must say I was "on". I carved Old Guy a new asshole with the lyrics I spewed out, and the crowd was roaring with laughter.... damn, I wish I could remember exactly what the hell it was I sang cause it was definitely right on the money.

Kinda reminds me of that fine Tenacious D song, Tribute. Now, my soul wasn't in danger of being eaten by a demon, as were Jack and KG's, but I definitely put together some fine words. Maybe not the greatest song in the world, but definitely a good little piece. I sang about the Old Guy and how he was mad cause I ruined his shot at scoring with the younger chick... and then I mentioned something about his having forgotten his Viagra anyway... yeah, a real "You had to be there moment."

Sorry, folks. I guess this story really just sort of flopped at the ass end. It's a bit like a one night stand (that took 9 parts to tell) - you get all excited and worked up, and maybe some of the bits and pieces in the middle were worth a laugh but, damn, in the end you're kind of left with a bit of a disappointed feeling, eh? Oh well, so sue me.

Better yet, don't - getting sued sucks. Going to court sucks. Worst of all is having to pay for a lawyer just to make sure you don't get slammed in the process. Ahh well, but that's another story.

How about you have a good weekend and we'll just wait for my next story to be better, eh? I know JUST the one to tell, too.
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The Origins of Valentine's Day

A long time ago, there was this priest name of Valentine. The stories vary as to why but, inevitably, he pissed off the Roman Emperor, Claudius, and was thrown into jail for it. Now, this priest apparently fell in love with some girl, perhaps one who visited him every day, and he wrote her letters signed, "From your Valentine". She may have been the jailor's daughter - go figure. Again, the stories vary but they all claimed that he was heroic, sympathetic, and romantic... all that AND he died for it - it's one of those little rules them Catholics have about Sainthood: ya gotta be a martyr. By the middle ages, obviously some time after he got whacked by Claudius's goons (around 270 BC), he was one of the most popular Saint's in all of Christendom, particularly in France and England.

In typical Christian fashion, the date chosen is likely due to the fact that some pagan sect celebrated some rite or feastday on or about the same time. No, really, the Christians used all sorts of dates from other religions to make it easier for conversion. Hey, I'm a Christian and I will admit to it. Easter, Christmas, Palm Sunday... ALL of these dates can find their origins in other religions. It was good politics, really. The date in question for Valentine's day was Lupercalia, a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, then Roman god of agriculture. It was also a day to celebrate the mythical founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. It was named Lupercalia because those 2 Roman boys were supposedly raised by a she-wolf, a Lupa, as babes. They would have a big old hootenannie and then sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a, get this, a dog, for purification. *(Of course, according to some, particularly Jules in Pulp Fiction, a dog is a dirty animal. He wouldn't go so far as to call them filthy, but definitely dirty - cause, you know, personality goes a long way...)

Young men would then take the goat hide, cut it into strips, dip the strips into the sacrificial blood, and take off running, gently slapping both women and crop fields - to spread fertility, one must assume.... and, suprise surprise, the chicks DUG IT. They actually liked getting whipped with some bloody goat hide.

No, I am not just making this sh1t up. Seriously. I am getting this from the Wikipedia and History Channel... so, you KNOW it's all true, right?

The single women would later put their names in a big urn and the single guys would go draw a name. The men and women would hook up for the rest of the year... yeah, talk about the first dating service, eh? Many of these pairings apparently ended in marriage.

Eventually, in 498 AD, Pope Gelasius declared Valentine's day to be Feb 14th, the current modern date for celebrating. Of course, the whole big urn thing was outlawed cause, well, them Christians, then as now, were a bit on the uptight side as far as sex and all that. Go figure.


The Brits and the Frogs later (in those middle ages) decided that bird mating season starts on that same day, lending more to the whole romance and mating theme. Them wacky medievalists.

The oldest known Valentine in existence was written by Charles, the Duke of Orleans, to his wife, while he was locked up in the Tower of England after the unfortunate battle of Agincourt. This same battle was fought on Saint Crispin's day. Shakespeare immortalized the battle in his play, Henry V, wherein a stirring speech was given. This same speech was also used in that not quite so great movie , Renaissance Man, starring Danny DeVito.

Now, WHY do I bother to tell you all this?

I don't know... just late for V-Day, I guess.

ROAD TRIP - Part 8

"... and if you aren't sure which of you is a lovely lady, why... I would be more than happy to help you figure that all out after the show. I'll be at that table (pointing) over there..."

And so into the song I went... and the crowd loved it, as oft they do. I make no exaggeration when I say that bar crowds love Tenacious D, at least, those who aren't offended by their choice of words and suggestive (and more blatantly direct) lyrics. The audience hooted and hollered like mad, asking for more. A good friend of mine suggested I play "Vaseline".

No, it isn't the Stone Temple Pilots song by the same name; rather, it is a parody I wrote of Bush's "Glycerine", and the lyrics have to do with... well, let's just say dirty lovin'. Yep, offensive and humorous, the song is, and it usually takes many people off guard, cause the first few lines and several lines in the middle are very similar to, or were taken straight from, the original...

Suffice it to say, Older Guy was NOT a fan.

He came up to the bar, bitching and complaining about how offended he was by my music, yelling at the owner that he was doing his best simply keeping himself from basically kicking my ass outright.

Umm, yeah. Riiiiiiiiight.

The owner, this New York Italian guy by the name of Vito, was telling him to just get the hell out of there.

Meanwhile, as Older Guy was throwing his money on the bar to pay his tab before he left, I could see the Younger Woman looking over his shoulder at me... smiling all the while. Oooh, yeah...

Now, seriously... and NOT to be cockybut, yeah, she was diggin' on the Wop... I might not always be perfect at knowing when a woman is giving you "the good look" (aka. "The Eye") but she was definitely giving me high marks for my stage performance.

I think this may actually be what set Older Guy off. He said he wouldn't be offended, but when she started laughing at and enjoying even my over-the-top nasty stuff, I don't think his generational sensibilities could handle it. So, in the "name of her delicate sensibilities", he felt the need to start crowing like a rooster and stirring up a ruckus. Yeah, okay. Whatever dude.

I guess it's true what they always say about musicians - chick dig 'em....

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Hey, that's what THEY say. I didn't say it. THEY say it.

Part 9 coming soon...

ROAD TRIP - Part 7

There was an older gentleman (heretofore referred to as Old Man, or crotchety old Geezer) in particular that concerned both myself and the staff there. This man appeared to be in his 60's and he was there with a MUCH younger woman. She was an attractive woman who, if she was in her 40's, she wasn't deep into them... at least not to my discerning eye. He was obviously doing his best to impress her...

Gig girl and the waitresses made it a point of checking with him to see if he would be offended if I were to play a particularly risque song. (yeah, calling it risque is like calling Mike Tyson a bit less than gentle)

He indicated that it would not be a problem.

Perhaps it was in an effort to try to impress the lady he was with... you know, trying to play the "cool" dude for the woman of his previous generation? Who can know for sure?

Needless to say, the unanimous response was a big "go ahead"...


I began to play that deeply influential song written by two of the finest wordsmiths of our current generation, Tenacious D... yes, I am speaking of that one song, that love song that holds so much meaning to me, as it should for all men; that song that touches me deep within the dark recesses and very bowels of my being... WAY DEEP in the bowels. For real.

I began to play F**k Her Gently with all the intensity and depth of feeling I always have when playing such a tender song... and I introduced it in the usual fashion, borrowing from Tenacious D's own handbook of musical introduction...

"I'd like to dedicate this song to all the lovely ladies in the house, you know who you are..."

at this point, I was later told, Old Man looked to his lovely younger companion and said, "I want to dedicate this song to you, the most beautiful woman in the house..."

Ahh, how sweet.... (little did he know...)

to be continued... of course...
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