I love it when the topic of some rock hack comes up, and their mastery of hot licks, and their undisputed place in the Pantheon of gods of the MOR radio is discussed. It’s my sad duty to mention that they all suck pond water through a septic drain hose compared to legions of guys playing for tips in the corner of a coffee shop. What makes you famous can’t make you good, and if you get famous first, you never learn. Why would you bother?

The Days of Wine and Roses is written by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer. It’s also my sad duty to mention, when Pink Floyd or some such songs are mentioned, that Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer walked the same globe, so you folks are lost in a very wrong neighborhood on that planet if you’re looking for songwriters.

It’s my sad duty, but I shirk it, because people should like what they like, and get enjoyment out of liking it. I like watching Rocky Gresset and Ninine Garcia playing in the corner, for instance. They’re not all that good, I suppose, so my scheme of finding out exactly where this video is recorded, selling all my belongings to get plane fare — including at least one of my kids for medical experiments if necessary — in order to move there and live in a cardboard box and sit outside the window of this place listening intently in the hope they’ll show up again, might sound a tad extreme. To a Pink Floyd fan, maybe.