Monday, September 17, 2007

The CD That May Not Come Back

I've had my ear on this recording for a while. Used to have the LP version a while back but repeated changes of address and the lousy record storage system, i.e. galvanzied wire milk crates, I had doomed the playability of this 2 record set. It was/is a gorgeous collection of Mr. Allman's slide guitar session work that included Wilson Picketts' "Hey Jude", Aretha Franklin's "The Weight", and King Curtis' "Games People Play". It may just be one of those records that you had as a teenager that you latched onto without any explanation and then played until your roommate threw shoes, sneakers, or textbooks in your general direction to get you to change the record. It may turn out that when I do get this CD, that a cold case of The Thrill is Gone will set in.

How did this CD come up as conversation material? Well, I'd call myself a slipped-Catholic who still gets into the minimal-pleasure multiple-guilt mode of thinking when it comes to CD purchases. A weekend comes and the possible money-spending mental matrix which I'd been constructing in the 5 days building up to the weekend is ready to be exercised. Certain components of the matrix are exchangeable as long as the finished result is the same defined currency outlay. Obviously, if a planned activity/expense doesn't go well or doesn't result in the "planned" happiness (don't get me started..), well, tough noogies. On to the next event/expense item! Keep up your good cheer. But sometimes, sometimes it is tough letting go of a particularly bad-tasting experience/cash loss.

The ever-loving wife and I went to this dreck of a movie. I've read enough reviews that deep-sixed it to the point that I hadn't even put it on my Netflix list. When it's not even worth seeing at home, why would we pay non-matinee prices?

Going to this movie was based strictly on Hope. The hope that a British movie can't be really bad. The hope that a British comedy cannot be truly unfunny. The hope that puerile bathroom-related humor is strictly the domain of American humor. The hope that beating a joke until it has lost all of its nine lives is not a film technique the Brits practice. Well our hopes were dashed completely. This movie is utter shite.

Mr. Allman will have to wait at least another week.


Man, that's the worst sort of delayed gratification. I feel your pain.
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