That's a Crockett
I can't stop listening to the below song by Texas singer/songwriter Charley Crockett. It's like a blissful gnat I want to return again and again, hoping its wings never fall off. I'm also a sucker for songwriters who use adjectives as nouns, as with the line in the song “a case of gone was all she carried.” Reckon that's the hillbilly in me bubblin up.
Funny thing about this song, is when I first came across it some time ago, I almost turned it off three seconds into the first listening. I love the steel guitar the same way I love rum-soaked raisins in rum raisin ice cream: they're great in measure, but not by the mouthful. And this song starts out like a mouthful of steel guitar. Glad I stuck it out.
Boy needs to invest in a razor at some point though.
One more from Charley, a cover of Tom T. Hall's classic That's How I Got to Memphis. Charley's voice coils me all up. It's got that big teeth sound to it, like his upper teeth don't let his lips get too involved in the storytelling. I love that. By the way, Stevie Nicks does the same thing in some of her songs. It's all good if Ms. Nicks do it too.
North by…Southwest?
I was listening to Canadian Colter Wall the other day and I was reminded of a bizarre three-way conversation I had back in college.
An unnamed friend of mine and I had just sat down at the bar to throw a little shade on the dripping humidity outside. My unnamed friend ordered a beer and I probably ordered a soda water, or maybe a cranberry juice.
The bartender's accent made it pretty clear he was either from Canada or maybe the Iron Range up top of Minnesota. Naturally, I asked. He said he was from Thunder Bay. So, Canada. I then asked him a question that struck him rather bizarrely: “Do Canadians refer to southern British Columbia as the Southwest, same as Americans refer to Arizona, etc. as the Southwest?” Before he could relax the perplexed furrow in his brow, my unnamed friend piped in, “British Columbia's in the Northwest idiot, not the Southwest.”
Geography is a matter of perspective, and my unnamed friend was thinking from an American's perspective. My question, however, was intended to gain insight into a Canadian's perspective. We involuntarily live our lives immersed in our own perspectives, so I've always volunteered my conscience in an effort to gleen the perspectives of others.
“It's in the Northwest if you're an American, genius. I want to know if Canadians refer to it as the Southwest, dumbass,” I said. I found it necessary to punctuate both of my declarations with snide insults, so as to break through my unnamed friend's ignorance before he made a total ass of himself.
“Sometimes we call it the Southwest.” said our Canadian barkeep. “But not like you Americans refer to your Southwest. Usually we just call it BC or southern BC.”
“What?” chortled my unnamed friend. “Do Canadians not know their directions? British Columbia's in the Northwest.”
It was obvious my derisiveness failed to save my unnamed friend from making a complete ass of himself.
“The Northwest Territories are in the northwest of Canada,” said the bartender, in typical Canadian politeness. “Southern British Columbia's in the southwest of Canada.”
My unnamed friend suddenly realized which of the three of us was the full on ass. I could claim to be an ass at times. I couldn't vouch for the Canadian bartender either way. But my unnamed friend was demonstrating beyond any conceivable doubt that he was the resident king ass among us.
Then I couldn't resist.
“You see, Einstein,” I said, “the rest of the world doesn't look at things from our viewpoint. For example, Canadians have a nasty habit of seeing the world from a Canadian perspective, ya freakin’ loon.”
The bartender chuckled, and I offered no cover for my unnamed friend's bruised ego.
As I turned to the bartender with a prideful smile, feeling an accomplice's kinship with the Canadian, he just looked at me and dryly said, “One beer and a Jack and Coke. Seven bucks.”
“Tip the Canadian three bucks, asshole,” said my unnamed friend as he placed the empty pint glass on the bar and walked back out into the furnace, obviously stung by the severity of my admonitions.
So, maybe the other resident king ass didn't have a cranberry juice after all. And maybe the Canadian understood ignorance better than either of us.
Thoughts While Standing in a Shower Drinking Irish Whiskey From a Shampoo Bottle
If God had wanted us to simply accept that which appears to be, then we'd be eating the rind and tossing out the fruit.
We put safeties on guns to minimize unnecessary suffering and death. I wish we could put safeties on our politicians for the same reasons.
How ironic the high school class of 2020 had their school year upended because of the pandemic, as this experience will likely sharpen their vision while they navigate life's coming challenges.
Nature will ultimately be the winner, but only humans can determine if there will be a loser.
A question requires a quest. It also requires an ion, which is a charged atomic particle. That's probably part of a bigger question, though.
Stay safe, distanced, connected and well.
Sluggo