They’re Going To Put Me in the Movies

Oh man, that’s so 1966. Buck Owens and The Buckaroos. They’re a-pickin’ and a-grinnin’, of course, because Country music was lots of fun back then. Even the sad songs were wry and amusing.

The Beatles liked Act Naturally, and Buck Owens in general. They recorded it and put it on the B side of Yesterday, of all places. A charming throwaway, made more charming by Ringo’s amiable stab at the vocals.

Buck Owens and Don Rich are wearing glorious Nudie suits, of course. Nudie Cohn had a shop in North Hollywood by that time, called Nudie’s Rodeo Tailors. I think Elvis really got the fad of Nudie’s spangled outfits going, but it stuck hard with nearly everyone in Country, and beyond. Let’s face it: Today’s fad of dressing more slovenly than the audience is a disservice to the groundlings. Performers should give the audience a compelling reason to look at them, and to signal that the stage is different than the seats. Nudie suits certainly did that.

It didn’t really register with the audience at the time, but Elton John was a devotee. He wore a Nudie suit around the time of Rocket Man, for instance:


You could infer that Nudie suits were a gateway drug to a full Liberace addiction, but then again, Country singers could always hold their liquor and their rhinestones better than your average pop star.

Plenty of Firepower

That’s Rocky Gresset on the left, and Adrian Moignard on the right. They have a sort of friendly contest ongoing to see who can blast out Gypsy Jazz faster and more musically than the other. It’s always a tie, though they each have their own style.

“Cherokee” is a jazz standard from way back in the 1930s, by Ray Noble. It blasts through a series of different keys, and the third of four parts of the tune were considered too challenging by many soloists, so the song was often avoided, except by guys who could really play. Like these guys.

Great Moments in Maine Real Estate: Nueve

Well, Maine has really been letting me down of late. It’s getting harder and harder to populate Great Moments in Maine Real Estate, because many of the free spirits in the state, with the appropriate “devil may care” attitude, have lit out for greener pastures, or maybe gone back to prison. I don’t know exactly why they would prefer to live in a pasture than a house in Maine, but I have my suspicions. Here are just a few clues to the mindset:

For a rural Maine man, this place has it all. Mildew blooms, plastic over the busted windows, an ad-hoc fence to keep the dog amused, if not corralled. An electric heater abandoned right next to an abandoned air conditioner on top of a meager woodpile. Over yonder is the pickup truck bed cap from a vehicle last registered in 1987, and long since gone to its scrapyard reward. This stuff is only piled outside because the inside is already stuffed to the sagging rafters with similar jetsam. But the piece de resistance has got to be the “I ♥ Poon” bumper sticker on the door.

Decorating schemes in Maine generally crash into the Scylla of the Hobby Lobby, bounce off, and then careen into the side of the Home Depot Charybdis. The center of the main channel through the architectural straits is clear, and well-marked with Martha Stewart buoys, but Mainers don’t trust anything that looks that easy. So they’ll often find themselves stranded on the shoals of the Island of OSB, and similar ersatz plywood materials. This Gilligan must have been stranded overlong, because every surface in this house — ceiling, walls, floors, everything– is covered in oriented strand board. In case I forget to mention it later: Please, No Smoking.

This room has it all. I’m surprised there isn’t a stove and fridge in there, too. It’s got a map of Maine on the wall in case you find yourself lost while making your way from the bed to the woob-woob tub. Sometimes I think Mainers think of everything. Other times I think other things. But anyway, I’m flummoxed why they don’t install a diving board off the footboard. Seems easier and safer than two marble stairs.

This room has a lot going for it. It’s tranquil. There may or may not be someone dozing in the sleeping bag while the realtor tiptoes in to take a picture. The comfort level is high. When you’re lying on your mattress, discerning TV watchers always turn the set on its side, to match the orientation of your noggin. The windows are spray painted black to keep nosy neighbors and parole officers from peeking in, or the sunshine from disturbing the spiders who hold the ceiling down on top of the walls with their silky constructions. There are elegant photos of Marilyn Monroe on the wall, so that any hot supermodels who might drop by will feel at home. Snacks are always close at hand, if you’re willing to fish through the packages and fight the ants for the remainders. However, there are just too many half-filled jugs of yellowish liquids in the picture to suit my delicate sensibilities. The resident must work at an Amazon fulfillment center, and he takes his work home with him, is my guess.

You keep it classy, Maine.

You can see our entire series of Great Moments in Maine Real Estate here.

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Month: July 2024

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