Gag Me With a Spoon

Thursday night's "Speak Your Mind" forum at school was well attended (approx. 100). The topic, Hurricanes Katrina and Rita & the FEMA Response, was not intrinsically controversial, and the big issues really needed to be addressed by folks in Federal-level positions, but the local panelists that were there did a great job of using their own expertise to answer student questions as best they could. Our panelists consisted of a middle school science teacher, the Deputy Chief of the county fire department (and commander of a local emergency response team), a trauma psychologist, and a sociologist. The kids were great. Their questions, for the most part, were of a very high quality. I was pleased and impressed.

After, James and the Monkey and I met up at Otto's for a pre-show drink or two and then headed down the block to the Blue Note for the show. The American Music Club was good: a little jangly, a little loud, pretty smart. However, they played five songs and they were done. Some bullshit about broken guitar strings. Broken strings?! Go buy some more and keep playing--we payed fifteen bucks for this show. Between shows, we three headed up to the back bar, where you don't have to wait half the night to order a beer. While there, we found Coach B and the Kopster, his companion for the evening. And we stayed there all night.

Spoon just was not very good. Poppy. Crappy. Light. Uninteresting. At the back bar, some dude in a white t-shirt, smoking a Marlboro light and drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon-- in a can (the NEW cool beer--but still crap in my book)-- approached Monkey, James and the Kopster.

"Do you guys like Spoon?"

The Kopster stepped up, "Well, we ARE out here."

"I love them," the can of beer said, "but they are boring me to tears."

I leaned in to the trio, "Which one of you is going home with the T-shirt?"

"Puh-lease," they replied.

That says it all: they were boring their fans to tears. We didn't even feel slightly drawn to the theatre. Boo, Spoon. You are nothing more than plastic--Plastic Spoon.

Thursday night, of course, made Friday a slog, but, as a caring professional, I slugged it out with the day and won. After a quick nap on the sofa, Monkey and I were off to Otto's book club. Yes, two nights in a row at the same bar. That is not even close to a record.

Six of the originally scheduled eleven showed up to discuss the book: Monkey and yours truly, the Reverend Wayne Coomers, James, K-dogg and the Robmeister. The discussion was spirited and rich, the beer was cold (and the Wild Turkey was wild for the Reverend), and the food was adequate. By eight o'clock, we were headed home feeling a little piqued.

Today Ripken is to spend the evening visiting his best buddy, Ms. London Belle, and staying over at his Uncle Joe and Aunt James'. He is really excited.

Hiking on Sunday and a late Fall evening visit to Bradford Farm looking for owls and raptors. I'll tell you all about it. Later.