"Americans used to say where there's a will, there's a way. Nowadays, it's where there's a pill, there's a way out." - - Burnt Toast

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Pretty damn good in the Saturday afternoon rain, which, of course means that I cannot get out there to molest Mother Earth into making more fruit from my labor, dangit.


I did manage to get some purple basil, Genovese basil, globe basil, lemon thyme and a tricolored sage (salvia) planted before the rain rolled through.  And thankfully, after a three week battle with riding lawn mower blades and drive pulley belts which i won three days ago, I was able to cut half of the acreage yesterday evening.  Now?  All wet. :(


Alas, here we are.  So hey, let's listen to some music to cheer our sad souls!

First is a boo-bap-ba-dee-bee-bob rendition of Donald Fagan's 1982 calypso melodrama The Goodbye Look  as performed by Mel Torme.  Yes, I dig Mel Torme and strangely, was digging Donald Fagan in 1982 when I was 12 years old.  Sue Me.

I know what happens
I read the book
I believe I just got the goodbye look 


Our second selection, in keeping with the island theme is the beautful collboration of Buena Vista Social Club performing El Cuarto de Tula (Tula's Room).  A lovely construction with so much going on in the music that my head just lolls with the beat.


And finally, for those who don't remember Donald Fagan's 1982 album The Nightfly, which includes the song New Frontiers that could quite possibly compete with my top Rush favorites, here is another one that you probably will remember, I.G.Y.


For you younger viewers who may not know, that revolving contraption above is called a record player.  That's what we had before laser beams and shit.

P.S.  I would really like to embed the New Frontiers video here, but since Warner Brothers gets it's panties in a wad over copyright, no one is allowed to post it anywhere outside of YouTube, which to me is ignorant.  Simply by sharing might possibly mean more revenues for WB in the long run.  But what the fuck do I know, after all, The Nightfly, written by one of the whitest crackers in music reached #24 of the Black Album charts in 1982, which is a conundrum enough in itself.

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