ON DANGERS OF MIXING AFTER SHAVES

Lately we have been reckless and distracted. Too many people coming, hanging out, going and passing through our life like it is the food court at the JFK terminal. Some even have ketchup stains on the lapels of their designer shirts.
For the most part it is a good thing. New blood brings fresh insight and stimulates the mind. Older friends can be just as enchanting as together you sip your lattes and re-explore the fringes of common memories. However, all these disruptions can lead to over stimulation and to sensory overloaded human error. Mistakes are made. Small mistakes like mixing aftershaves are dangerous but not uncommon. Just this week a stressed out member of our own team blended classic Aqua Velva with Flower Power 2 by Comme Des Garcons.

This unforeseen scent combination permeated the office affecting each one of us differently. Less and less work was done as personalities slowly became undone and people with buttoned up minds started tugging at their collars. Overall the effect was as if a liquid hallucinogenic had been mixed into a mutant can of Glade aerosol and sprayed through the room.

We inhaled deeply and rocked back in our office chairs. We could feel our eyes opening wide as if to embrace the strangeness just out of view. The office fluorescents shimmered, glowed and then dissolved, disappearing with the rooftop and exposing a glorious blue grey sky and a weirdly purple sun. Wow…..now that’s disruptive!

We will tell you this! When you mix aftershaves you will attract nothing but trouble. However, if you insist on ignoring our advice… please use common scents.

Vacation Tip 5

When I get a little time off, I like to blow off a little steam down at my new favorite watering hole. It’s a cool little dive that’s off the beaten path in a dark and dirty corner of Brooklyn. There I can kick back, drink my troubles away without much fear of being recognized or hassled by the press. The liquor flows freely and the prices are reasonable. Try the bucket of beer. Four cans of beer served on a bed of crushed ice in a zinc alloy pail for only a five spot. Nurse one while the others wait patiently, cooling in their bucket, their little aluminum eyes winking knowingly. Know that they are friends who won’t talk back or shout at you. The view through the front window is of the Battery Tunnel entrance and its toll booths. On the horizon beyond one sees the red backlit sign of the Brooklyn Motor Hotel. Have a shot of Makers and just imagine what crimes are being committed in there. Refocus and you’re back at bar surrounded by hack writers, wannabe actors, abandoned artists and the occasional overweight boxer. Yes when in town visit the ‘Moonshine Bar’ at the south end of Columbia street and feel like Charles Bukowski, if just for a fleeting moment.

Love Beam

When I was a twenty something I used to augment my income by giving magic shows for kids and their parents at suburban birthday parties. I performed many of the usual low rent tricks like the rings, the dancing dollar and, of coarse the dazzle ball, but only one trick was particularly special to me. The lights went low and a pin spot illuminated a box on a show table. The box was enamel red with gold and black Chinese characters painted on it’s side. I lifted the box and removed a drawer from its side. Both the box and drawer were obviously empty. My assistant then brought out a white rabbit and the children giggled with delight. I placed the creature in the drawer of box and shut it tight. I waved my wand and spun the box around once and when I reopened the drawer the rabbit was gone. There was now scattered applause. I then shut the drawer again waved the wand, spun the box and reopened the box to reveal a steaming and flaky family sized bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I pulled out a plump drumstick and held it in the light. I then took a healthy bite to confirm the illusion. Hmmm delicious! I put the drumstick back in the bucket and then quickly shut the drawer and spun the box once again. Slowly I opened the drawer and once again it was empty. I shut the box quickly and tapped on the side two times. I reached deep into the box and pulled the rabbit out into the light. Yes the rabbit was now back and bleeding slightly from a mysterious leg wound.

God Bless Cordell Jackson

On a sad note, I must report the passing of one of america's great unsung heroines. Cordell Jackson is best known as the rockin' grandma who plays rings around rockabilly guitarist Brian Setzer in a 1991 Budweiser ad. But to rockabilly and roots-music aficionados, she's better known as an early rockabilly pioneer, the first woman recording engineer in the U.S., an early woman record label owner, the first woman to write, sing, accompany, record, engineer, produce and manufacture her first record, and of course, the rockin' grandma who can play rings around Brian Setzer. I had the pleasure of spending a few days with her in Memphis TN. She had invited me to a steak dinner at her place. I remember her favorite color was yellow. She wore a yellow dress, lived in a modest yellow ranch house and drove a yellow caddilac. In Panther Burns we used to perfom 'Dateless night" and "She's the One That's Got It" which she had written in her youth. She started Moon Records as an answer to the dominant label of its time, Sun Records. How cool was that! She was a great spirit, a true americam original and she will be missed by all who knew her.

Memory Distortion

Everything blogged may be strange but distorted slightly throught the lens of memory. However, if you all insist I will locate Tav Falco in Paris and get him to verify and , perhaps, even amplify. Tav and Sammy knew each other well. Tav performed a song called Warrior Sam that appeared on his “Shake Rag” album. An interesting record produced by Jin Dickenson with cover photo by Bill Eggelston. there is a picture of Sam and family on their porch with a rifle on his lap on the back cover of the Panther Burns Now album I think.

8 Pounds of Pressure

Warrior Sam was a one legged indian who was Tav Falcos' neighbor in Memphis, TN. They both lived in rather modest shacks on Peabody street in one of the poorer parts of town. Tav kept his head above water through photography and by promoting his band The Unapproachable Panther Burns. Sammy I think collected checks from the government. Welfare checks and verteran benefits. Also on Peabody street was a sweet old lady in her eighties who lived with her mentally challenged middle aged son George. George was right out of of Mice and Men. He was extremly tall at about 6 foot 7 inches. Very imposing, yet very quiet he would stand for hours at the edge of their property staring off into space. Sammy's house was more of a compound than a home. He had an improvised fence along the perimiter of his property. A six foot high wall composed of abandoned washing machines, refrigerators, oil drums, old tires and rusted bicyles. In his back yard he had an old school bus up on cinder blocks, a rusted out jeep and a primer grey camaro with 3 flat tires. Sam had no education to speak of. He seemed quite happy living his one legged life with his overweight hillbilly wife and their two undernourished dull eyed children. One time Sammy rescued me when my moto guzzi broke down on my way to Nashville. On the ride back to Memphis he told me how he lost his leg: He was riding his motorcycle and misjudged the path of a tornado. The tornado picked up both him and the bike and threw them into a field about 500 feet away. The bike landed on his right leg and crushed it completely. I asked about the scars on his arms and he smiled exposing his toothless gums. He said that his wife kept four rattlesnakes in the house to discourage burglars. I suppose it was a sort of a hillbilly security system. Anyway sometimes he would reach behind the sofa to plug or unplug something or he would reach deep into his underwear drawer and damn it …he would get bitten again. Later inside his " living room" i noticed a set of wooden cases that were stacked to the ceiling in the corner of the room. They were moist, glistening and seemed to be leaking fluid. I found this curious and had to ask him about the boxes. He cackled and said that they contained old hand grenades. They were so old they were leaking the nitroglycerine and he did not know what to do with them. They were now so unstable that 8 pounds of pressure was all it would take to set them off and blow his house and family to smithereens.