Good Morning Kafoosters,
One of my childhood legends died this week. Mitch Miller was 99 when he keeled over. “An accomplished oboist, Miller played in a number of orchestras early in his career, including one put together in 1934 by George Gershwin.” I didn’t realize it but he produced hits for Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Patti Page, Johnny Mathis, as well as a flop with Frank Sinatra! I think he was best known for his television show “Sing along with Mitch” and follow the bouncing ball. I hate to admit this, but remember vividly the entire family gathered around the tube to sing “Oh Susannah” and “Sweet Adeline” but remember the show not being around too long. Maybe it was, but I got older and thought the show was far too gay (#3 I think) for someone as cool as I was and refused to watch it.
It’s funny how we tend to grow out of things like that. Nothing ever stays the same does it? We tend to settle in and take it all for granted as if it’ll always be there, and then shocked when it goes away. Hanging out at Dewey’s for the last seven years has provided a great platform from which to watch this phenomena. I’ve observed people imbibing seemingly upbeat and well adjusted, then blow their heads off. I’ve watched perfectly nice people gradually kill themselves abusing ‘Drain-o, drugs, and booze. I’ve witnessed associations come and go, and each time these things happen a little piece of ourselves disappears affecting us for the worse. I don’t wish to be too depressing here, but unlike my normal ranting was in hopes of making a point.
I was watching “Behind the Music” a VH1 program that biography’s various bands and groups and often shows the group members when they were young. Conversely, it also reveals how they look today which is the depressing part. There’s something inside me that refuses to see this transition from youth. In my head I think much the same as I did 40 years ago, and can’t reconcile why my body continues to degrade. I’m sure many others go through this, but can’t imagine those people having the same level of denial. I’ve met some of these people, and to their credit, they manage to assimilate much of modern music and culture into their lives making them more palatable to all generations. Me and those that cling to the past, never willing to accept those that argue our stayed traditions, are doomed to be bitter old men; curmudgeons to the very end.
Like basting a spatchcock we’re splayed open for all to see seasoned by life’s rich pageant. This was never more evident than Phatt-Ass Paddy’s “Beer and a Blowjob” campaign. Only a few short years ago this ploy rarely missed. Her corpulent cellulite ass combined with fried-egg tits still was enough to attract unknowing men to buy drinks for a blow-job to be named later. Today I’ve not seen a taker in months. It’s gone. There’s absolutely nothing about her that could cause an erection let alone be seen with her.
“Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.” Let’s make today count even if it’s wrong!