Was down in the back yesterday? Naw. No one cares about a old, broken man’s lumbago.
Buttheads in Berkeley, CA banning the Marine recruiters? Naw. You heard that on the vast-right-wing-conspiracy, radio talk-shows.
My trip to the drug store? Naw. It was funny when I convinced the young lad at the register to card the lady behind me for her cans of Chef Boyardee. That laugh got me all the way to the car and I’ll get more mileage out of it at work tomorrow when I see my victim, Jill.
No. Today I think I will blog about the first time I saw my name in print. Yep. I’m “published,” as they say. Okay, it was only my name in the liner notes of a CD, but still, I couldn’t wait to show anyone who would look. Here’s the long and sordid tale.
In March 2007, it received and advance copy of Chris Berry and the Retrofitter’s Emerald River Project. Chris had approached me for a review and, never one to pass up free music, I gladly accepted. It turn out much better than the time I agreed to review Tubesock and the Magnificent Brass Band Rejects. Chris’ album was full of bluesy tracks with Western spices dashed in for a kick. The details are all in the original review. It’s a damn fine read, if I do say so myself.
Due to the aforementioned back problems, I didn’t waddle my fat ass to the mail box yesterday. As I pulled out for work this morning, I snagged a fat hand full of fliers, coupons, bills, and one fat, bubble-pack of blues. Chris had mailed the polished copy of the Emerald River Project with a message, “Read the liner notes.” There he thanks:
- His lovely wife (Total assumption on my part. She may be a complete tramp if track 8 is auto-biographical.)
- Some chick in Nebraska who is president of the band’s fan club. (Probably also a total tramp. You know how groupies are.)
- A brilliant, insightful writer who loves music and reviewed the pre-release back in March.
There it was. My name as third banana in the “thank-yous” of the liner notes of a CD which you may or may not find in stores, but can always order directly from the artist by emailing email@example.com. That started my day out perfectly. Nothing could touch me after that. I was bullet-proof. Twelve cups of coffee and five stupid users later, I was still smiling. Damn decent fellow that Berry.
Those are good, but, aren’t even the very best tracks. So order the CD by dropping an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. I get no cut of the profits. In fact, all proceeds go to…um…saving babies…er…baby seals…yeah, that’s the ticket. Urban legends have it, every time you don’t buy a CD, a baby seal is clubbed to death. I don’t know if that’s true, but I have my copy and my conscience is clear.