Public Service Announcement

Comments

1. Southern Expat says

   January 9, 2013 at 1:57 pm

   The who now?

   Reply
   • Matthew Lickona says

     January 9, 2013 at 2:09 pm

     The Good Country People Olde-Tyme Jamboree of Existential Dread’s first album, Beer and Stumbling, will be finished sometime during 2013 or later. Tentative track listing:

     Beer Garden – Ernie Grimm
     Play Me – MaryAnn Carr
     Misfits – Singer Undetermined
     Dust on Every Rose (Song for Cat) – Cat Hodge
     That Ain’t Country – Elizabeth Duffy
     The Crocodile Song – St. Anne’s Children’s Choir
     Loose Ends – Mark Lickona
     Jason’s Pond – Matthew Lickona

     And that’s before we get to Potter and the Duffer’s stuff.

     Reply
     • Southern Expat says

       January 9, 2013 at 3:49 pm

       What is your stance vis-a-vis the Sensitive Female Chord Progression?

       Reply
       • Matthew Lickona says

         January 9, 2013 at 3:53 pm

         My stance? Slumped over in resigned defeat, like one of the Barbaloots in the Lorax.

         Reply
         • Matthew Lickona says

           January 9, 2013 at 3:53 pm

           But then, that’s my stance on everything.

           Reply
           • Southern Expat says

             January 9, 2013 at 4:10 pm

             Me, I always hang in a Buffalo Stance.

             Reply
     • JOB says

       January 10, 2013 at 6:41 am

       Misfits: Babs’ll take it if you think it’s right for her.

       JOB

       Reply
       • Matthew Lickona says

         January 10, 2013 at 8:01 am

         Alas, it’s very much an older man’s lament for love lost. But you know, now that you mention it, I should try to cook something up for Babs. The pipes on that gal.

         Reply
         • JOB says

           January 10, 2013 at 9:02 am

           Still got the CRI microphone set up in my office as studio…

           Otherwise, I can play McArthur Park on a Kazoo and we’ll call it good.

           JOB

           Reply
           • JOB says

             January 10, 2013 at 9:02 am

             Um, MacArthur Park, that is.

             JOB

             Reply
2. Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

   January 9, 2013 at 9:23 pm

   A good country person is hard to find.

   Reply
3. JOB says

   January 10, 2013 at 9:10 am

   Another idea: dramatic recital of a Latin translation of Horse Latitudes.

   Cum mare placido coniurat arma…

   JOB

   Reply
   • Southern Expat says

     January 10, 2013 at 9:22 am

     How does one horn in on this gig?

     Ooh – does it require busking? Could that be a splinter project?

     Reply
     • Southern Expat says

       January 10, 2013 at 9:24 am

       My favorite thing is that I intended this comment to be related to the original post but it’s far more nuanced if it looks like I want to busk while reciting Doors lyrics in Latin.

       Reply
       • Matthew Lickona says

         January 10, 2013 at 9:27 am

         Oh, Lord – I actually thought “Horse Latitudes” was something JOB wrote.

         Reply
         • job says

           January 10, 2013 at 2:10 pm

           You. Did. Not.

           Reply
     • Matthew Lickona says

       January 10, 2013 at 9:25 am

       Everything requires busking. JOB, I don’t know why we need to go Latin, but I like your idea. Sort of like The Doors’ “The End.” But it kinda needs to feel like “Country Feedback,” too. Start rifling through your archives.

       Reply
       • Southern Expat says

         January 10, 2013 at 9:26 am

         I have to confess that I had to look up what Horse Latitudes was.

         Reply
         • Matthew Lickona says

           January 10, 2013 at 9:27 am

           Thank heaven.

           Reply
           • Matthew Lickona says

             January 10, 2013 at 9:28 am

             I have to confess that I had to look up what busking was.

             Reply
             • Southern Expat says

               January 10, 2013 at 9:39 am

               Really? It’s pretty much my favorite word ever.

               Reply
               • Southern Expat says

                 January 10, 2013 at 9:41 am

                 Which isn’t to say that I didn’t have to Google it a few years back. I’m not going to pretend I just emerged, goddess-like, into the world, fully cognizant of busking. But now that I do know it, I live for opportunities to mention it.

                 Reply
                 • Matthew Lickona says

                   January 10, 2013 at 9:45 am

                   Ladies and gentlemen, your favorite Twilight Troupe, the Duskbuskers. They’ll keep dancin’ until the sun goes down.

                   Reply
       • JOB says

         January 10, 2013 at 11:42 am

         Well, I found this back when I was writing my Master’s thesis…

         The Howelliad

         -written in one of the stalls of the Stygian Muse

         O sing, muse of my muted conscience, the raging backside of Josephiades!
         Sing of the many trevails the fates have visited upon him and his stylus!

         “And so,” said Josephiades to his friend and fellow warrior of take-home-pay worthy word-mongering, Mateetotalus,
         Ever more sallow and paunchy in the zone of all good things eaten,
         “Have no fear, finally, dear Mateetolalus; I have my days well planned
         And solidly put together are my well-crafted designs of enduring battle!
         It’s a mad dash for composition, but I don’t care, crashing higgedly-piggedly,
         Anything to succour the gods of Mt. Thesis especially the Lord of Them All –
         Father god, Advisor of the Divine House of Alvis. But do pray, Mateetotalus
         Son of Lickonandon, that of course I realize the dangers of hecatombs not chosen
         From the best of the herds; at this point I can fudge enough to get by.
         Holy Advisor, divine father of correction, is a sleepy god, after all. If his wrath
         Is raised then will fate have come to me, as I find glory in shining armor
         Of textual battle, rattling from my rhetorical chariot, chased to Insignificon,
         Land of the scholastic dead, land from which no poor sentence is raised again.”

         “Alas, dear Josephiades,” undone son of Lickonandon raised his mighty voice
         Gurlging full with the frothy heat of wine-basted moment and cheese-filled day,
         “Alas, son of steel-stomached Patros, what whiskey or wine or wonderful
         Liquors can you have found to want to raise the ire of one greater than the gods of Mt. Thesis,
         She who must first be obeyed, like the thunder from on high, which courses through
         The whole wide sky, such that the hunter hears it coming before he can his game,
         She who is She Herself, maidenhead of all your worries, her name holy and to speak
         Would lead to manslaughter of many men, she, daughter of quick-eyed Suspicia,
         Goddess of the Bedroom and Bathroom regions, sere Cecilia of the searing voice and withering stare?”

         With that word, a fear for many a far-seeming man, many a worse would suffer,
         Josephiades, father of Seamus the Shamelessly Troublesome, quaked in his wingtip sandals,
         The darkness of the netherworld came mist-like upon his eyes and all his brow was
         All a-sweat like a stable’s roof dripping with the last of winter’s cooling snows,
         Now subjected to mercilessly wilting heat of summer suns. “Oh Mateetolus, Father of Finn the Funny-named,” Josephiades quivered, shaking spear and shield, “I need a drink.”

         Reply
         • Matthew Lickona says

           January 10, 2013 at 12:42 pm

           This one I get.

           Reply
           • job says

             January 10, 2013 at 1:12 pm

             Yeah, I’ll give you something to get…

             JOB

             Reply