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Location: Susquehanna Depot, Pennsylvania, United States

Well, if you got here via the bi-chromatic Universe and "Dez", thanks. Their being available means they can be rented out, so to say, to vendors. For example, they'd be great in promoting pastries. Kids love cookies, so do adults. As for that ascending numeral three, it came about by way of ignorance. More than once, I'd see that same numeral with wings or a halo or both even on this or that pickup truck. And, dumb me, I'd think they were like golden horse shoes or four-leaf clovers ... good luck charms. It wasn't until later, I found out those threes are meant to commemorate one posthumously charismatic NASCAR driver. To inspire all those signs of grief, that guy might've had the makings for ... well, that's likely better left to the intuition of NASCAR votaries.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

garden party crashed

. . . How (?) does one crash a garden party! . . .

. . . Let me count the ways . . .

The once "teen dream boat" and later late rock'n'roll star, Ricky Nelson, unintentionally crashed a garden party, granted with good intent. Instead of repeating some golden oldie, for the millionth time, such as NEVER BE ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU, he introduced the crowd of long-in-the-tooth teenagers in love to freshly minted material.

. . . well, the freshly minted material received a chilly reception . . . the crowd in Madison Square Garden bought their tickets to groove to tunes, the magic of which had made their long-ago years in high school tolerable, interspersed with enchanted moments . . . eYep, that's one way to crash a garden party. The experience did lead to some more new music. Ricky was inspired to compose GARDEN PARTY.

And then, there's my way. If being true to myself means my becoming nothing to everybody, very well then, I shall brace myself for whatever comes, from my being true to myself. At this point, one might expect me to aver my preference for being hated for who I am over being loved for who I am not.

. . . well, I feel obligated to qualify that just a tad, by referring to a rock'n'roll innovator, Elvis Costello. He turned heads with his song WHAT'S SO FUNNY ABOUT PEACE, LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING. At the time, he was something else.

When SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE was still SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, he accepted a gig to perform a tune, during that live and, at that time, straight-to--air telecast. Mr Costello wanted to perform one song, whereas the show's producer expressed a preference for another.

So, during the live and straight-to-air telecast, Elvis begins his gig with a bar of the song the producer preferred. Being a free spirit, the rock'n'roll verbally declines to continue with that song, and then launches straightway into the tune he prefers.

I have it via a very good source that the jilted producer, standing just behind the teevee camera, was flipping Elvis the bird. When I heard the scuttlebutt, I spontaneously confessed that I never would've had the "guts" to emulate our particular Elvis.

Nowadays, every so often, I get awarded "brownie points" by the figuratively speaking local garden party. And I'm disinclined to spurn them. In truth, I appreciate those brownie points, if only because they enhance the quality of my life, here in the Pennsylvania borough of Susquehanna Depot.

Evidently, it's become expected of me to toss off, occasionally, a snippet of my snide sense of humor. Maybe, that's how come I got excused for proposing "homoërotique" as a brand logo for a cologne that commemorates this country's lunar landing.

The great General Charles De Gaulle is quoted as saying, "Old age is a shipwreck". If that's true, then middle-age might be considered a worn tire in dire need of additional air pressure. Smacking more of bathos than pathos, our particular Elvis briefly shows up in the first AUSTIN POWERS movie. Accompanied by Burt Bacharach, he sings I'LL NEVER FALL IN LOVE AGAIN.

Oh, what the hay, I may as well continue with my snide sense of humor. Elsewhere in this blog, one shall find sefton posts that delight Jewish visitors. Evidently, they dig my averring that the moon exudes the scent of "macho TOP GUN 'need for speed'". My five doughnuts to somebody's three, those few Palestinian visitors fail to be tickled pink. And who (?) can blame them!

In their considered opinion, they get taunted by some wise ass with the alleged failure by their predecessors to seize a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity . . . c'mon, if it happened, that was sixty (60) years ago.

I'm told that Palestinians meet up with their friends in this or that café. In certain places like that, some knot, or other, of their "avant garde" congregates, less to consume coffee than to congratulate each other for accepting a commission in their mode of existence.

With the world having become "global village", eventually, the notion of "'once-in-a-millennium' opportunity" will come to the attention of some knot, or other, of the Palestinian avant garde. Soon or later, quips inspired by that notion will be thrown like darts in some London pub . . . I mean a place, where warm beer washes down deep-fried-dry fish and greasy chips.

. . . "Some 'once-in-a-millennium' opportunity! The Americans got Einstein. We got stuck with Bernie the attorney." . . .

.he who is known as sefton

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