Just went out to Haps in downtown Salisbury.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Saxaphone mine Saxaphone: Part I
You know what I love? Saxaphone: That's what!
Nuthin' like reclining on the deck of a 31' Spinnaker, the smell of salt air, overpriced fried food and red faced drunk fisherman crying in their beer at 11 AM to something Billy Joel wrote about how Ammaganset used to be, since he grew up next door to Bill O'Riley in Levitown.
I'm wearing my gently flaking Jimmy Buffet concert-shirt, a pair of man capri's, and dock shoes with no socks. I have on a hat with rope and an anchor, as this denotes me being a man o' the sea. In my hand is a luke-warm chardonnay in a plastic cup with a split down the side and I'm just chillin' to Christopher Crosses "Sailing" coming out of a set of speakers that have rusted directly into the hull and could not be unscrewed with a heliarc welding torch.
(OK, REALITY CHECK: IF in fact if you did see me under these circumstances I would chalk it up to some historically bad LSD and tie the anchor around my neck before crying out "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" and throwing myself into the murky bosom of Oyster Bay Harbor.)
Saxophone is one crazy ass instrument. There was a time in the 80's were you could not use a public matter-anti matter transporter or portable outhouse and not hear the whole note fool-assery(tm) of a saxophone solo. By the late 80's constant saxophone bombardment had reduced thinking people in Cut off shirts, gravity defying hair gel and Day-Glo socks that any band that recorded with a saxophone was bigger than the album Jesus did with the Beatles (Jesus Submarine)
Bands were scooping up saxophone artists at an alarming rate. Just buying a saxophone and sticking your head in it could make you star overnight if you did not pass out from the saxophone fumes. A saxophone in your song said "This band is hot, this band is sexy, in fact this band is having sex in your radio right now! So don't touch those dials, they're probably sticky from all that sex! And besides if you put on the classic rock station what do they have? Freebird? Stairway? Shooting Star? Come on, that crap has no saxophone what-so-ever and you know it!"
Saxophonists were revered as gods among men, sometime more when they wore ties with piano keys on them. Massive wooden effigies of the late Clarence Clemmons were erected, stuffed with certified public accountants and set ablaze while the musical stylings of Kenny G. drowned out the screams. Oatmeal Chip-which was also served.
And everyone was sent to bed without dinner.
It was the season blockbuster summer movies: "Over the Top", "Karate Kid 3" and "CaddyShack 2" when members of Miami Sound Machine metamorphosed into a giant saxophone playing robot and vowed to destroy the Detroit's Joe Louis Arena with 1989's "Get on your Feet". The band merely succeeded in wedgie-ing Red Wings Center Scott Zygulski. Many saxophoneistorans theorize this event heralded not only the end of the saxophone solo, but also the end of the domestic red codpieced saxophone.
To know this for sure we need to have a lengthy and incredibly self aggrandizing attempt on my part to discuss the amazing history of the instrument that was often mistaken for the cry of the Irish Mule Dear after binging on corned beef whiskey and stale lucky charms.
You may be surprised the Saxophone was not invented exclusively for Eric Carmon's 1985 Prom staple "Hungry Eyes"; the Sax (short for Saxophone!) has been around even longer:
J.S. Bach had written several inventions for the Sax for the coordination of Emperor Slobodon in 1704, however this event was marred by the consumption of several hundred pounds of tainted wolverine livers imported for the occasion. Distressed at the crowds desire to go home and throw up on their servants Bach threw his Saxophone into the raging waters of the Danube and then changed the "S." in his name from Saxophone to something else entirely that has been long forgotten.
The first known mention of the Saxophone is actually from the Old Testament where the Israelites circled the city of Jericho Long Island for 3 days, and 16 nights until Joshua was told by the Lord to "Play it Fat Man!" (Joshua 6:13) and the walls of Jericho were destroyed or everyone in the city just got sick of repeated attempts to nail the intro to Wham's superhit "Careless Whisper" and left.
The rebirth of the "Sax" can be dated sometime in the 1930's. Bands leaders like Louis Armstrong and Louis Prima were looking for new ways to terrify upper middle class Anglo Saxon Americans and realized the Saxophone was the next best thing to hurling cow manure at guys in white sheets who were setting fires to their hospitals and nursery schools because it was the Christian thing to do. The staccato blaring of the Saxophone made it possible to simulate the existence of an ham-armed colored or garlic scented Italian lurking under the parlor floorboards with a rusted knife clenched between his teeth.
In the 1940's however the Saxophone was nearly lost due to the spastic recording techniques used at the time. Entire horn sections often stood beneath a microphone during sessions only to learn later it was nothing more than a Prosciutto with a string going to the mixing board.
NY Mayor Lou Costello speaking into some Mortadella.
Stereo recording with lunch meat would not be perfected until 1969 when Doors frontman Jim Morrison and future Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet released the Admiral Pepperoni sessions.
NEXT POST: THE TERRIFYING CONCLUSION OF: SAXOPHONE: THE FORBIDDEN DANCE WITH SAXOPHONES IN IT
Nuthin' like reclining on the deck of a 31' Spinnaker, the smell of salt air, overpriced fried food and red faced drunk fisherman crying in their beer at 11 AM to something Billy Joel wrote about how Ammaganset used to be, since he grew up next door to Bill O'Riley in Levitown.
I'm wearing my gently flaking Jimmy Buffet concert-shirt, a pair of man capri's, and dock shoes with no socks. I have on a hat with rope and an anchor, as this denotes me being a man o' the sea. In my hand is a luke-warm chardonnay in a plastic cup with a split down the side and I'm just chillin' to Christopher Crosses "Sailing" coming out of a set of speakers that have rusted directly into the hull and could not be unscrewed with a heliarc welding torch.
(OK, REALITY CHECK: IF in fact if you did see me under these circumstances I would chalk it up to some historically bad LSD and tie the anchor around my neck before crying out "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" and throwing myself into the murky bosom of Oyster Bay Harbor.)
Saxophone is one crazy ass instrument. There was a time in the 80's were you could not use a public matter-anti matter transporter or portable outhouse and not hear the whole note fool-assery(tm) of a saxophone solo. By the late 80's constant saxophone bombardment had reduced thinking people in Cut off shirts, gravity defying hair gel and Day-Glo socks that any band that recorded with a saxophone was bigger than the album Jesus did with the Beatles (Jesus Submarine)
Bands were scooping up saxophone artists at an alarming rate. Just buying a saxophone and sticking your head in it could make you star overnight if you did not pass out from the saxophone fumes. A saxophone in your song said "This band is hot, this band is sexy, in fact this band is having sex in your radio right now! So don't touch those dials, they're probably sticky from all that sex! And besides if you put on the classic rock station what do they have? Freebird? Stairway? Shooting Star? Come on, that crap has no saxophone what-so-ever and you know it!"
Saxophonists were revered as gods among men, sometime more when they wore ties with piano keys on them. Massive wooden effigies of the late Clarence Clemmons were erected, stuffed with certified public accountants and set ablaze while the musical stylings of Kenny G. drowned out the screams. Oatmeal Chip-which was also served.
And everyone was sent to bed without dinner.
It was the season blockbuster summer movies: "Over the Top", "Karate Kid 3" and "CaddyShack 2" when members of Miami Sound Machine metamorphosed into a giant saxophone playing robot and vowed to destroy the Detroit's Joe Louis Arena with 1989's "Get on your Feet". The band merely succeeded in wedgie-ing Red Wings Center Scott Zygulski. Many saxophoneistorans theorize this event heralded not only the end of the saxophone solo, but also the end of the domestic red codpieced saxophone.
To know this for sure we need to have a lengthy and incredibly self aggrandizing attempt on my part to discuss the amazing history of the instrument that was often mistaken for the cry of the Irish Mule Dear after binging on corned beef whiskey and stale lucky charms.
You may be surprised the Saxophone was not invented exclusively for Eric Carmon's 1985 Prom staple "Hungry Eyes"; the Sax (short for Saxophone!) has been around even longer:
J.S. Bach had written several inventions for the Sax for the coordination of Emperor Slobodon in 1704, however this event was marred by the consumption of several hundred pounds of tainted wolverine livers imported for the occasion. Distressed at the crowds desire to go home and throw up on their servants Bach threw his Saxophone into the raging waters of the Danube and then changed the "S." in his name from Saxophone to something else entirely that has been long forgotten.
The first known mention of the Saxophone is actually from the Old Testament where the Israelites circled the city of Jericho Long Island for 3 days, and 16 nights until Joshua was told by the Lord to "Play it Fat Man!" (Joshua 6:13) and the walls of Jericho were destroyed or everyone in the city just got sick of repeated attempts to nail the intro to Wham's superhit "Careless Whisper" and left.
The rebirth of the "Sax" can be dated sometime in the 1930's. Bands leaders like Louis Armstrong and Louis Prima were looking for new ways to terrify upper middle class Anglo Saxon Americans and realized the Saxophone was the next best thing to hurling cow manure at guys in white sheets who were setting fires to their hospitals and nursery schools because it was the Christian thing to do. The staccato blaring of the Saxophone made it possible to simulate the existence of an ham-armed colored or garlic scented Italian lurking under the parlor floorboards with a rusted knife clenched between his teeth.
In the 1940's however the Saxophone was nearly lost due to the spastic recording techniques used at the time. Entire horn sections often stood beneath a microphone during sessions only to learn later it was nothing more than a Prosciutto with a string going to the mixing board.
NY Mayor Lou Costello speaking into some Mortadella.
Stereo recording with lunch meat would not be perfected until 1969 when Doors frontman Jim Morrison and future Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet released the Admiral Pepperoni sessions.
NEXT POST: THE TERRIFYING CONCLUSION OF: SAXOPHONE: THE FORBIDDEN DANCE WITH SAXOPHONES IN IT
Monday, August 1, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
In the Flame Broiled Court of the Crimson King
Like the Hatfields vs. McCoys, Microsoft vs. Apple, The Commodores vs. solo era Lionel Ritchie the rivalry between McDonald's and Burger King is long standing and it's followers can be intensely fanatical or just kinda weird where you will make a note to friends not to include them when your out and about because the night will end in tragedy, tears or your feigning a death in the family just to get the hell out of there.
Off the top of my head there are two Burger Kings in Salisbury NC. I'm guessing there are more, but that's all I got at the moment. There's one right off the exit ramp on 85, the other a few blocks from the other exit ramp off 85, namely the corner of Jake and Lexington.
I ate at that one, and that's where the tragedy begins.
You know those commercials where you see those hamburgers made with the skill of a master hamburger Samurai ? Well, I already know that's all crap but somehow I still wanted to go to Burger King, as Jerry Stiller once said; the body is a machine, don't get picky with what you feed it. So I figured a man with the silken complexion of a Norwegian Supermodel should be the barometer in which I decide what lunch to eat when I justify not going to the gym all week.
I'll cut to the chase, the line at register was all backed up, and when it came out that burger was nasty. It had a metallic taste, the soda had a metallic taste. I was eating catsup to get that nasty taste out of my mouth and thats nasty. But the real nasty didn't begin 'till I got back to my desk. I'll spare details but I have a terrific fear of throwing up in a public restroom so I went home. Actually I didn't go home right away because my truck would not start. Out of the blue my vehicle got a sick as I was and would not turn over. Earlier in the day I was going to tell W.C. Steve S. not to leave shit in my car, he left a Diet Dr. Pepper bottle half drunk in the baby seat, and my lazy ass did not throw it out. Good thing for procrastination because I poured Dr. Pepper on my battery terminals and a minute later my truck started, and I made it a few miles out of the parking lot before I had to stick my head out the window. It's not strange that I drive past a half million cows on the way home but it got me thinking about burgers, and even weirder I was listeing to a John Hodgman podcast where he made a ruling on a man who would randomly say "cow" and set off his 30 year old son. The podcast began with a quote from Mahatma Gandhi, about the holiness of cows, maybe cows, who knows, I think it was cows. I'm not going to stop eating cows, I'm not going to eat them at every meal out of spite either but for an animal that gives us milk, meat, and who's poos are essential for crop growing and hallucinogenics I need to be a little more respectful, and Burger King needs to be a little more respectful of the food they serve, that means no more shoe prints on my meat, no more spitting on the buns and if your going to maul billions and billions of cows show some respect and not make me throw up when I eat them.
Anyway, Burger King on Jake Alexander, Zero Stars out of Five.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
and to keep with the cow motif; that place was bullshit!
Editors Note:
None of the stars are filled up, otherwise it would look like this
one star:
★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
two
★★ ☆ ☆ ☆
ok, you get the picture.
Use these stars when trying to rate stuff so you don't have to find them on the web but I encourage any other rating system including but not limited to Thumbs, Smiley Faces, Spock Ears (great for "nerd" stuff), etc.
Off the top of my head there are two Burger Kings in Salisbury NC. I'm guessing there are more, but that's all I got at the moment. There's one right off the exit ramp on 85, the other a few blocks from the other exit ramp off 85, namely the corner of Jake and Lexington.
I ate at that one, and that's where the tragedy begins.
You know those commercials where you see those hamburgers made with the skill of a master hamburger Samurai ? Well, I already know that's all crap but somehow I still wanted to go to Burger King, as Jerry Stiller once said; the body is a machine, don't get picky with what you feed it. So I figured a man with the silken complexion of a Norwegian Supermodel should be the barometer in which I decide what lunch to eat when I justify not going to the gym all week.
I'll cut to the chase, the line at register was all backed up, and when it came out that burger was nasty. It had a metallic taste, the soda had a metallic taste. I was eating catsup to get that nasty taste out of my mouth and thats nasty. But the real nasty didn't begin 'till I got back to my desk. I'll spare details but I have a terrific fear of throwing up in a public restroom so I went home. Actually I didn't go home right away because my truck would not start. Out of the blue my vehicle got a sick as I was and would not turn over. Earlier in the day I was going to tell W.C. Steve S. not to leave shit in my car, he left a Diet Dr. Pepper bottle half drunk in the baby seat, and my lazy ass did not throw it out. Good thing for procrastination because I poured Dr. Pepper on my battery terminals and a minute later my truck started, and I made it a few miles out of the parking lot before I had to stick my head out the window. It's not strange that I drive past a half million cows on the way home but it got me thinking about burgers, and even weirder I was listeing to a John Hodgman podcast where he made a ruling on a man who would randomly say "cow" and set off his 30 year old son. The podcast began with a quote from Mahatma Gandhi, about the holiness of cows, maybe cows, who knows, I think it was cows. I'm not going to stop eating cows, I'm not going to eat them at every meal out of spite either but for an animal that gives us milk, meat, and who's poos are essential for crop growing and hallucinogenics I need to be a little more respectful, and Burger King needs to be a little more respectful of the food they serve, that means no more shoe prints on my meat, no more spitting on the buns and if your going to maul billions and billions of cows show some respect and not make me throw up when I eat them.
Anyway, Burger King on Jake Alexander, Zero Stars out of Five.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
and to keep with the cow motif; that place was bullshit!
Editors Note:
None of the stars are filled up, otherwise it would look like this
one star:
★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
two
★★ ☆ ☆ ☆
ok, you get the picture.
Use these stars when trying to rate stuff so you don't have to find them on the web but I encourage any other rating system including but not limited to Thumbs, Smiley Faces, Spock Ears (great for "nerd" stuff), etc.
The Salisbury Epicurial
Welcome to the Salisbury Epicurial. Discussions about Food, Music and Good Times in Historic Salisbury North Carolina are the mode. Also any discussions about Local Politics, Ideology, Satanic Covens and anyone looking to provide a good home for a stray puppy or kitty cat: That's a good thing! A pet is life long friend, well their tragically short lives anyway, either way it's a responsibility, yours. If you adopt a pet take care of that pet. Pets need plenty of fresh water, food and love, well the first two are incredibly important, the last one is for the philosophers to argue, I've already made up my mind on that one (it's love in case you were wondering) - ok, I'm getting off track here; so to recap: Food, Music, Hedonism, situated in or around the 28145 area code but Charlotte NC is an hour from here, we got NASCAR in Concord (I'm sure plenty of gems will surface with that trainwreck of a sport) and I've been told we have a pet cemetery, and though I love pets, I really do, we're all too aware of what inevitably happens when you bury a rabid Police Dog a cemetery cursed by an Indian Shaman who wore moose antlers 1500 years ago, the best Disney movie to come out just in time for the Holidays, that's what!
So sit back, put on your reading glasses, or go to View>Make Text Bigger or whatever, call over your satanic rabid zombie dog to bring over your slightly chewed slippers and give him a treat, I don't like people who make pets do stuff and then don't pay them, that's pet slavery and I wont stand for it...Geez, I'm off topic again. So, let's get ready to savor some of the best that the heart of the Piedmont has to offer...
...Is Salisbury the heart of the Piedmont? Well it is now, at least for the sake of this blog. What the hell do I know? I grew up on Long Island.
So sit back, put on your reading glasses, or go to View>Make Text Bigger or whatever, call over your satanic rabid zombie dog to bring over your slightly chewed slippers and give him a treat, I don't like people who make pets do stuff and then don't pay them, that's pet slavery and I wont stand for it...Geez, I'm off topic again. So, let's get ready to savor some of the best that the heart of the Piedmont has to offer...
...Is Salisbury the heart of the Piedmont? Well it is now, at least for the sake of this blog. What the hell do I know? I grew up on Long Island.
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