I have some dire posts to do later on, but here’s a vaccine against despair. New York’s police department played the fire department last night, and they had a huge brawl on the ice. Cool.
I got to see their annual football game last fall. They narrowly escaped a similar brawl there but only because the refs refused to penalize the police department for brandishing sidearms during their game ending goal line stand.
Apparently, the wussification of America hasn’t succeeded completely yet. Grin.
Bear that in mind as I get apocalyptic later.
OLD BUSINESS. Thanks to the computer savvy and devotion of my lovely fiancée, the mysterious recording of Save the Last Dance for Me has been identified. It charted at No. 18 in 1974, exactly the right timeframe. I had it all correct as to the tempo and the single-word effect of the key lyrics. What I had wrong was the sex of the singer. Not a Brenda Lee type woman but a 14 year old boy. What did I know? It was a label in a jukebox. Everybody in upstate New York played it constantly, from bikers to B-school partiers. Imagine the booming J-box sound and the girls dancing next to the pool table in the yellow unlight of a Trumansburg bar in winter.
Maybe you had to be there.
Thank the blazing sun, you found it. I was feeling a little bewildered. I still like Sany Posey’s rendition.
I think we can all agree that the Michael Buble version is the best.
Go to your room.
Hahahahaha
For more laughs, listen to Buble’s ‘World on a String’ — how can you be a crooner singing that song with a terrible lisp??
Okay, I’m grounded, I’ll go to my room and listen to some good music.
And don’t come out until you’ve learned how to behave, young man.