NO! WAIT! I can sit at attention, all posture-like and everything, and these duds, ‘ceptin’ for the stain on the right leg I didn’t see when I bought ‘em at the Thrift Store - I look ok.
BUT, I’m holding a tonette for behoogety sakes! A recorder! I don’t belong in this symphony! You say movement? I’m fitty-five, stand back, I’ll show you movement!
He waved the baton, the cellist began. She’s actually an architectural engineer by day - drives an ‘07 Benz, and has visited seven countries…
The violins start their ‘sawing’, we’re moving now. John. 3rd one over. He’s owns a new car dealership. Got him a three car garage house in Leawood, but he’s eyeballing the four car garage house on the golf course in Spring Hill.
Remember me? The tonette? The recorder? About that time, the horns worked their way in… First the French (Dude travels by plane weekly to different cities, sells something… he’s set to retire next year at age fitty-two. Bastard.)
Then the Trumpets… Banker, State Representative, Lawyer, Gynocologist…
I’m sweating by now. IT’S ME! I CAN’T READ THIS MUSIC! Don’t you remember checkenginelight? The Hot… Rod… Lincoln?….. The NEW (nineteen ninety-nine) “Green Hornet” Dodge Van?… are you not collecting my overture here?
The tuba joins in… thank goodness, I’ve incredible gas…
The cello’s cello’s, the horns area blowin, cymbals clanging, castanets castanetting, I CAN’T TAKE IT!….
Some groups, I’ve found, I just don’t belong in. Tis ok. I likes me, mosta the time.
Gimme a Miller Lite insteada Chivas Scotch any old day. And whyinthehell would you pay $18 for a tool to cut off the tip of an $8 cigar when you can get a packa smokes for “Three and some change”, they’re already cut, and you don’t have to wait for the weekend to smoke ’em! Frayed nerves! Don’t you guys have ’em? I wish just once you could live paycheck to paycheck… Have a “Maynard” to scratch ur head over..
Ok, in truth, sure, I’d enjoy a three car garage in a very nice neighborhood. I haven’t planned well, I am me. I am human, hear me roar.
When I think of 401K, retirement plans, and assets… I think of being retired and having your ass - set. Yes, I wish I wouldn’ta borrie’d outta the 401K for this, that, switched jobs, “let’s just use this money, we’ve got it, we’re young, retirement is hella in the future..”
I will say I’ve lived. I hope all the oboe’s, cellists, violinists, and even the conductor have lived as well.
I’m not really poor. I don’t make great money, but I ain’t classified as poor. Upper-lower, lower-middle, somewhere in there. But, I this wonderful/struggle of life, I think we po’ ones mebbe don’t make the sacrifices necessary because maybe we’re too busy out enjoying life, having fun. At least that’s my story. Or my excuse.
Oil/water. Harp/tonette recorder. Hummer/Dodge Van. JoCo/Clay.
WAIT! I awakened! I hear George Thorogood ordering one bourbon, one scotch, one beer. Here violinist, you have this. Take the scotch Mr. Tuba, and thanks for covering up my pooters. I’ll take the beer.
Bottoms up. Love, Victurd
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