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MoPOP at dusk, Seattle

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Hands you a nickel.

Maggie's Farm

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
No, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
Well, I wake in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin’ me insane
It’s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more

I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s brother no more
No, I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s brother no more
Well, he hands you a nickel
He hands you a dime
He asks you with a grin
If you’re havin’ a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door
I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s brother no more

I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s pa no more
No, I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s pa no more
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks
The National Guard stands around his door
Ah, I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s pa no more

I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s ma no more
No, I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s ma no more
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law
Everybody says
She’s the brains behind pa
She’s sixty-eight, but she says she’s twenty-four
I ain’t gonna work for Maggie’s ma no more

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
No, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them

They say sing while you slave and I just get bored
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more




I am leaving town for a couple days and I don't want you to get the idea I ain't coming back. Got a show up in the big city. Went through a bit of blog grieving today, cut off a whole bunch of fine folks, many of whom will never find their way back. But I need to change, to not just riff on the day to day stuff but maybe attempt something bigger. Or just different.

Don't want certain people to get a free look. Couple people have been bugging me of late to not talk about certain things, be bad for business. Don't upset the paying customers.  Those people are now officially off the bus. There will be benefits to having our own secret clubhouse.

Kerry says that I shouldn't worry about selling out because a person has to do what they have to do in this economic environment. Who suggested that I had sold out, Kerry?

Paul Percy DeGaston's grandson came down from up north with his wife today. He wasn't happy with the blog, now relieved that damaging information about his father's sire is now off the web. __________Redacted________________________ I understand his concern, told him that I would handle the sordid tale with utmost respect. Nothing to worry about, until the book comes out, of course.

Speaking of books, thinking of finishing up Feeler, the story I was starting to scribe a few years ago on the blog. Denis and Columbero really liked it. I haven't messed with fiction in way too long. Stan thinks I need a pen name, but not his, thank you.

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Kip Peterson and trusty Leica are in New Orleans and sends this shot over today. Mike Reardon aka Sanoguy got a nice link today as well.

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I really got knocked off of my emotional perch a couple weeks ago. Never even knew the principals, but my close friends did. Guy has a young kid with a medical issue, financially stressed like many of us and decides to blow his brains out, leaving wife and kid in the lurch. Leaves a note that says "Don't forgive me." Not please forgive me, don't. I spent a couple days thinking about his intended message.

I think it comes down to, I am a horrible excuse for a husband and father and I will never forgive myself, so don't you go forgiving me. Which in a way is incredibly selfish and narcissistic in itself. Horrible story. Some good friends ended up in the middle of it. Story affected me for several days. Don't forgive me. Man broke under the weight.

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I landed in a little catfight with an estate sale lady the other day which was rich. Lady loses her husband, develops MS, asks me to sell paintings and other stuff from house. Money manager says she has power of attorney and arranges to meet me at house. We sign papers and are loading my van up when an estate sale woman, nasty, vile creature, says that the stuff has been promised to her. Money Manager turtles and asks me to return the stuff, disregarding our agreement from just five minutes past with broker standing right there. I take the noble path and scram, just then a third woman shows up and says she is the new buyer, the lady says she can buy whatever she wants from the house. I run screaming. Path of least resistance. Run.

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I had 54 hits on the blog today. Normally I hit 800 to a 1000. And it's cool. A couple new lurkers showed up today asking for a hall pass. Had no idea they were reading me. Thanks for bearing with me folks. The conversation continues.


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