it just doesn't matter.

it just doesn't matter.

it just doesn't matter.

"Meatballs"

you are correct, sir. tell him what he's won, don pardo.

well scotty, he's just won a big steaming, fuming pile of dogshit that was left by the backdoor by your fucking dog, bimbo.

excellent. excellent.

and for my next trick. the human cannonball.

cannonball. cannonball.

quit saying that.

but then, from out of nowhere came a disturbing sound. it was a sound from underground.
but that didn't stop it one bit.

i joined the circus just to get away from the crazies.

my daddy was a blacksmith and he had hands made or iron.
he'd break your knuckles just for fun and send you off cryin'.

my brain works funny on a brand new bag.
drivin' my dune buggy on the downtown drag.

there's a thick fog brewin' in the basement of my mind.
don't go down there unless you want to unwind.

Timin' all the rhymin' is a pretty tough trick.
poundin down the sound like a acme brick.

mama, take me to the bridge, i wanna bungee jump
and shoot my shotgun with the 20 gauge pump.

but meanwhile, back at the lair.....


there was a reason for the blog but i forgot what it was.

27 minutes later.....

i will be performing with a new lineup of the sidetracks this friday November 3 at jj's roadhouse and blues bar. Scott Boland on lead, Andy Pate on bass, Kevmo on drums, and Gary Grammar on harmonica. 9:00 showtime. Please attend. it will be recorded.


say goodnight gracie,

scott