Meh.

[Fugee]

WARNING: This is longer and potentially more boring than the kitten-in-the-tree stories. You may wish to scroll.

I love my family but sometimes I think it might be easier to be an orphan only child. It was touch and go at points but I managed to survive the day without committing any major felonies.

Here are some of the highlights:

My brother (the minister) has recently decided that a simple grace before holiday meals is not enough. Now we get sermonettes that on Thursday included a picture of flooded New Orleans. (Last Easter he decided we should have communion at the dinner table before the meal.) The Fugee Family includes a niece who has entered the Terrible Twos with a vengeance. These two things do not peacefully co-exist.

After a careful and delicate campaign, I convinced the Fugee Mom to join the community fitness center in her small town. In addition to thinking it would be good for her to do weight training to fight osteoporosis, more importantly, it will get her into town on a regular basis. She has been coping with my Dad's death by constantly keeping busy with make-work stuff that stresses her out. And the solitude of being out on the farm alone has not been good for her mentally as well as emotionally. My theory is that if she goes to town a few times a week she could make it into a more social occasion and stay around to have lunch or coffee with people after the gym. To seal the deal, I proposed that my siblings and I pay for the first several months of membership for her Christmas present. So my sister asks Mom what she wants for Christmas and I remind her what we are giving Mom. At that point my idiot brother and sister start telling Mom why she doesn't need to join the fitness center.

And now for the Fugee Mom herself. As I was cleaning my closets this fall, I noticed some shirts and jeans I bought for the oldest nephew about six years ago and forgot to return. The younger nephews are now that size so I brought them to see if they wanted them. Later in the day I brought them out to show my nephews. The Fugee Mom grabs the smallest shirt (which I had set aside because it would only fit the youngest nephew) while I was talking to the nephews about the other stuff and hands it to my BIL who is way too big for it. He grabs it and walks out to his car (the Fugee Mom has a habit of giving inexplicable things to us so his approach is to take whatever she hands him and dispose of it later). I finished with the rest of the clothes and was going to talk to the youngest about that shirt and discover it gone. After looking all around and asking about it for 5 minutes, the BIL finally pipes up that Mom had given it to him. Mom couldn't understand why that was a problem.

Then things come back to the brother again. I'm already on my last nerve with him because he has passively refused (he won't actually say he won't do it, he just always makes other plans so he can't) my request for help in dealing with some items from Dad's estate. We were discussing my Mom's cell phone. I have told my brother several times that he needs to sit down with her and help her practice using the phone (he was at the home place a lot during October using some of my Dad's equipment) but he expressed amazement that she doesn't know how to use it yet.

At this point I had to go let my nieces and nephews beat the socks off me playing video games or I would commit fratricide.

[sarcasm alarm]Can't wait for Christmas![/sarcasm alarm]

[spookyfish]

Originally posted by Fugee
My brother (the minister) has recently decided that a simple grace before holiday meals is not enough. Now we get sermonettes that on Thursday included a picture of flooded New Orleans. (Last Easter he decided we should have communion at the dinner table before the meal.) The Fugee Family includes a niece who has entered the Terrible Twos with a vengeance. These two things do not peacefully co-exist.

Are you implying there was some attempt to cast out evil spirits from the child? AWESOME!

[Gattigap]

Originally posted by Fugee
longer and potentially more boring than the kitten-in-the-tree stories.

Sing it, sistah! I'll have to weave in alcohol, double anal, or fisting subplots next time just to keep the readership numbers up.

[sebastian_dangerfield]

Originally posted by Not Bob
It has been brought to my attention that I erroneously lumped slave with sebby in the anti-Bruce lyrics camp. My statement was wrong (memory is Not Reliable), and, of course, Not Bob regrets the error.

Carry on.

No need to retract, my dear Bob...

I'd sooner have my ass hair waxed by a blind blacksmith with a rusty straight razor than sit through an hour of Bruce's Americana...

I've been on a huge Dylan kick for the past month, which only reinforces my dislike of the Boss. I listen to Desolation Row and then hear something like Thunder Road and can't help but thinking, "Fuck, that's like comparing Bardot and Kelly Ripa."

They are both blonde, I guess... And Bruce and Bob do both play guitar...

[sebastian_dangerfield]

Originally posted by Fugee
WARNING: This is longer and potentially more boring than the kitten-in-the-tree stories. You may wish to scroll.

I love my family but sometimes I think it might be easier to be an orphan only child. It was touch and go at points but I managed to survive the day without committing any major felonies.

Here are some of the highlights:

My brother (the minister) has recently decided that a simple grace before holiday meals is not enough. Now we get sermonettes that on Thursday included a picture of flooded New Orleans. (Last Easter he decided we should have communion at the dinner table before the meal.) The Fugee Family includes a niece who has entered the Terrible Twos with a vengeance. These two things do not peacefully co-exist.

After a careful and delicate campaign, I convinced the Fugee Mom to join the community fitness center in her small town. In addition to thinking it would be good for her to do weight training to fight osteoporosis, more importantly, it will get her into town on a regular basis. She has been coping with my Dad's death by constantly keeping busy with make-work stuff that stresses her out. And the solitude of being out on the farm alone has not been good for her mentally as well as emotionally. My theory is that if she goes to town a few times a week she could make it into a more social occasion and stay around to have lunch or coffee with people after the gym. To seal the deal, I proposed that my siblings and I pay for the first several months of membership for her Christmas present. So my sister asks Mom what she wants for Christmas and I remind her what we are giving Mom. At that point my idiot brother and sister start telling Mom why she doesn't need to join the fitness center.

And now for the Fugee Mom herself. As I was cleaning my closets this fall, I noticed some shirts and jeans I bought for the oldest nephew about six years ago and forgot to return. The younger nephews are now that size so I brought them to see if they wanted them. Later in the day I brought them out to show my nephews. The Fugee Mom grabs the smallest shirt (which I had set aside because it would only fit the youngest nephew) while I was talking to the nephews about the other stuff and hands it to my BIL who is way too big for it. He grabs it and walks out to his car (the Fugee Mom has a habit of giving inexplicable things to us so his approach is to take whatever she hands him and dispose of it later). I finished with the rest of the clothes and was going to talk to the youngest about that shirt and discover it gone. After looking all around and asking about it for 5 minutes, the BIL finally pipes up that Mom had given it to him. Mom couldn't understand why that was a problem.

Then things come back to the brother again. I'm already on my last nerve with him because he has passively refused (he won't actually say he won't do it, he just always makes other plans so he can't) my request for help in dealing with some items from Dad's estate. We were discussing my Mom's cell phone. I have told my brother several times that he needs to sit down with her and help her practice using the phone (he was at the home place a lot during October using some of my Dad's equipment) but he expressed amazement that she doesn't know how to use it yet.

At this point I had to go let my nieces and nephews beat the socks off me playing video games or I would commit fratricide.

[sarcasm alarm]Can't wait for Christmas![/sarcasm alarm]

Yer allright... Thats a normal holiday.

My mother and sister screamed at one another for two days before and during Tksgiving. Mom bleated about how Dad drinks too much and ignores her, and announced she's moving into sis's home in DC for a while. Dad did his usual "You shmuck, you're still a fucking lawyer" bit with me in front of the family when I protested that I had to leave early to work Friday. I got depressed and downed half a bottle of Belvedere and sat silent watching lousy football games (they should sell the fucking Lions to the arena league already). Around ten, exhausted and angered that I could not down cocktails with everyone else until midnight, or go to the bars with my cousins, I snapped at my uncle with "You wanna know whay I can't sauce it up? Cuz I have to suck cock for the next 30 days to make them give me a bonus!" Unfortunately, the room had gotten quiet at the point, so the comment hung in the air and forced everyone's eyes on me. I was then able to leave quite easily, and then got the usual "We're very concerned about you" bit from my mother the next day.

35 days. 35 days. 35 days. My jaw is killing me. Sebastian comes back in 35 days. I understand why actors get paid like they do. This shit is hard. I mean, I can hack the hard work part and all... but the having to pretend I'm interested... Man, that is rough shit. I just keep envisioning the cash in my hand.

[ABBAKiss]

Originally posted by Fugee
[sarcasm alarm]Can't wait for Christmas![/sarcasm alarm]

I left my Thanksgiving "celebration" abruptly when my behated grandmother yet again was rude to me. So I said, "I don't need this" and walked out. HAH! I REALLY can't wait for Christmas. I think I may boycott altogether. Actually, Fugee, can I do Christmas with you? We can get drunk and discuss the bible. ETA: And I can teach you about double anal and fisting.

[Hank Chinaski]

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
Yer allright... Thats a normal holiday.

My mother and sister screamed at one another for two days before and during Tksgiving. Mom bleated about how Dad drinks too much and ignores her, and announced she's moving into sis's home in DC for a while. Dad did his usual "You shmuck, you're still a fucking lawyer" bit with me in front of the family when I protested that I had to leave early to work Friday. I got depressed and downed half a bottle of Belvedere and sat silent watching lousy football games (they should sell the fucking Lions to the arena league already). Around ten, exhausted and angered that I could not down cocktails with everyone else until midnight, or go to the bars with my cousins, I snapped at my uncle with "You wanna know whay I can't sauce it up? Cuz I have to suck cock for the next 30 days to make them give me a bonus!" Unfortunately, the room had gotten quiet at the point, so the comment hung in the air and forced everyone's eyes on me. I was then able to leave quite easily, and then got the usual "We're very concerned about you" bit from my mother the next day.

35 days. 35 days. 35 days. My jaw is killing me. Sebastian comes back in 35 days. I understand why actors get paid like they do. This shit is hard. I mean, I can hack the hard work part and all... but the having to pretend I'm interested... Man, that is rough shit. I just keep envisioning the cash in my hand.

What was your sister wearing?

[Fugee]

Originally posted by spookyfish
Are you implying there was some attempt to cast out evil spirits from the child? AWESOME!

Nah, just that there was someone with even less patience than me at the table.

My annoyance with Fugee Brother increased exponentially today. He's meddling about in the liquidation of Fugee Dad's estate. I'd really like him to either just give me the help I ask for or take on all the responsibility (and potential liability) of doing it all. His persistent air of disapproval of how I am handling things while having no clue of the work it takes to get all the records in order for the ATF (Fugee Dad was not very good at the paperwork) or the federal regulations involved in firearms is making me nuts.

And now a commercial announcement for the Minnsota GAs: if you have friends or family looking for a nice rifle -- especially if they are left handed -- Fugee Sister and I are doing a gun show at RiverCenter next weekend. Please send them to me so I don't have to keep doing this. I'll give them the friends and family price. (And yes, I've tried finding another dealer to sell them to with thus far no offers at any price.)

Fu(good thing Paigow isn't around to see this!)gee,
reluctant gun dealer.

[bold_n_brazen]

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
No need to retract, my dear Bob...

I'd sooner have my ass hair waxed by a blind blacksmith with a rusty straight razor than sit through an hour of Bruce's Americana...

I've been on a huge Dylan kick for the past month, which only reinforces my dislike of the Boss. I listen to Desolation Row and then hear something like Thunder Road and can't help but thinking, "Fuck, that's like comparing Bardot and Kelly Ripa."

They are both blonde, I guess... And Bruce and Bob do both play guitar...

Thinking that Thunder Road is the standard by which Springsteen should be judged is like thinking Peter Gabriel's best tune is Shock the Monkey.

[dtb]

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
I'd sooner have my ass hair waxed by a blind blacksmith with a rusty straight razor than sit through an hour of Bruce's Americana...

I think maybe you're going to the wrong kind of waxer.

A straight razor? Yikes.

[pony_trekker]

Originally posted by ABBAKiss
I left my Thanksgiving "celebration" abruptly when my behated grandmother yet again was rude to me. So I said, "I don't need this" and walked out. HAH! I REALLY can't wait for Christmas. I think I may boycott altogether. Actually, Fugee, can I do Christmas with you? We can get drunk and discuss the bible. ETA: And I can teach you about double anal and fisting.

We all wound up in a tryptophan-induced coma at 6:00 PM.

[Hank Chinaski]

Originally posted by bold_n_brazen
Thinking that Thunder Road is the standard by which Springsteen should be judged is like thinking Peter Gabriel's best tune is Shock the Monkey.

Maybe you can recommend a Springsteen album w/o Clarence for Sebby to try?

[sebastian_dangerfield]

Originally posted by Hank Chinaski
Maybe you can recommend a Springsteen album w/o Clarence for Sebby to try?

It ain't Clarence that ruins the Boss for me... The hornist label doesn't stick, BTW. I have been a Traffic lover since I first stumbled upon my uncle's copy of Low Spark back in fourth grade.

The Boss is considered a poet, so you judge him on the standard set by the Dead, Dylan, classic Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams, etc... The best rock poets wrote about characters who could have existed in any time or place. There's no figuring what time or location most of Robert Hunter or Dylan or Mick and Keith's (classic Mick and Keith) subjects lived. Bruce's heaviest stuff, OTOH, seems to come out of 70s Jersey. His characters are limited. He's obviously insanely talented, but like the Clash or early U2, a lot of his catalogue doesn't resonate with the listener all that well unless you know or have seen what he's singing about.

I also dislike his voice a lot.

[Hank Chinaski]

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
like the Clash or early U2, a lot of his catalogue doesn't resonate with the listener all that well unless you know or have seen what he's singing about.

Is this why Flower doesn't like boy meets girl songs?

[Diane_Keaton]

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
It ain't Clarence that ruins the Boss for me... The hornist label doesn't stick, BTW. I have been a Traffic lover since I first stumbled upon my uncle's copy of Low Spark back in fourth grade.

The Boss is considered a poet, so you judge him on the standard set by the Dead, Dylan, classic Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams, etc... The best rock poets wrote about characters who could have existed in any time or place. There's no figuring what time or location most of Robert Hunter or Dylan or Mick and Keith's (classic Mick and Keith) subjects lived. Bruce's heaviest stuff, OTOH, seems to come out of 70s Jersey. His characters are limited. He's obviously insanely talented, but like the Clash or early U2, a lot of his catalogue doesn't resonate with the listener all that well unless you know or have seen what he's singing about.

I also dislike his voice a lot.

No question about it. Bruce sucks. His biggest fan base was ugly teenaged girls who shouted his lyrics in the school hallways, who couldn't wait till Friday when they could pile in the car borrowed from Mommy/Daddy to go "down the shore" so they could get tan (a painful looking sunburn with terrible white strap marks), drink too many beers, hook up with athletic white bread boys and then pretend they were still virgins come Monday morning. For their boring lives, declaring they were "born to run" was about as exciting as things got. But then, their idol played life just as safe and didn't exactly push the envelope. And his lyrics weren't inspiring any consciousness raising neither. Never heard of anyone inspired to improve life or change the world by a Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, which is what exactly?

Now that we've got THAT out of the way, I'm disappointed you listed rock poets and left out:



Unforgiveable.

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We'll meet again, we'll meet again
Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly

And with the exception of some commercial dribble, I consider Townsend a poet as well.

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

And If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
And If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

That is all.

ETA: Oh and I'd give Tracy Chapman poet status too.