Ken

I'm addicted to NITRox, have been for a couple of years now... No noticeable side effects.....

Bob Seger Still The Same You always won every time you placed a bet You're still damn good, no one's gotten to you yet Everytime they were sure they had you caught You were quicker than they thought You'd just turn your back and walk You always said, the cards would never do you wrong The trick you said was never play the game too long A gambler's share, the only risk that you would take The only loss you could forsake The only bluff you couldn't fake And you're still the same I caught up with you yesterday Moving game to game No one standing in your way Turning on the charm Long enough to get you by You're still the same You still aim high There you stood, everybody watched you play I just turned and walked away I had nothing left to say 'Cause you're still the same You're still the same Moving game to game Some thlngs never change You're still the same

He's got another one, "The Shooting Of Dan McGrew". My Grampa used to tell us these poems, brings back great memories... The Shooting of Dan McGrew A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou. When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and glare, There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear. He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse, Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house. There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue; But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew. There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell; And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell; With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done, As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one. Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do, And I turned my head--and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou. His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze, Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze. The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool, So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool. In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway, Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands--my God! but that man could play. Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear, And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear; With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold, A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold; While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars?-- Then you've a hunch what the music meant...hunger and might and the stars. And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans, But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means; For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above; But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowded with a woman's love-- A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true-- (God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge,--the lady that's known as Lou.) Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear; But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear; That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie; That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die. 'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through-- "I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said Dangerous Dan McGrew. The music almost dies away...then it burst like a pent-up flood; And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood. The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash, And the lust awoke to kill, to kill...then the music stopped with a crash, And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way; In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway; Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm, And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn; But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true, That one of you is a hound of hell...and that one is Dan McGrew." Then I ducked my head and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark; And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark. Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew, While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou. These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know. They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so. I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two-- The woman that kissed him and--pinched his poke--was the lady known as Lou.

The following is by Canadian poet, Robert W. Service... There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell." On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! Through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see; It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee. And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe. He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request." Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan; "It’s the cursed cold, and it’s got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Yet 'taint being dead - it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains." A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! He looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate these last remains." Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows - O God! How I loathed the thing. And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin. Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here," said I with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum." Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared - such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky. I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near: I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked"... then the door I opened wide. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm - Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I've been warm." There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

I met him in the Bahamas, he was stoned.....

"Cryin', Waitin', Hopin'", legend has it, was the last song he performed at the Surf Ballroom before he got on the plane. Marshall Crenshaw did a stellar performance as Holly in La Bamba. As for Mike's suggestion of "Rave On", I LOVE that little 'hiccup-y' thing he does at the beginning of the song...

That came to me by way of a friend of mine from Bothwell Ontario. I had told him a story about my son singing "Aunt Jemima was a bullfrog!". I'm one of the ones that thought for years, the lyric was about a bathroom on the right...

I don't follow sports very much, but I seem to remember a major-league baseball pitcher coming out to AC/DC's "Hells Bells". Quite theatrical...

Hi Tony. The avatar is the internationally recognized SCUBA dive flag. When seen on the water, it signals boaters to remain back 100 feet as, like Van Halen says, "Diver Down". I'm an avid diver. As for any great Buddy Holly starting selections, my favorites are "Raining In My Heart", "Rave On", and "Crying, Waiting, Hoping". Have a great night. Ken.

I've often wondered what great music we were cheated out of.... Oh Boy!

Date her sister and give her a disc with but one song on it... The Eagles "Already Gone" Well, I heard some people talkin' just the other day And they said you were gonna put me on a shelf But let me tell you I got some news for you And you'll soon find out it's true And then you'll have to eat your lunch all by yourself 'Cause I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song, woo, hoo,hoo,woo,hoo,hoo The letter that you wrote me made me stop and wonder why But I guess you felt like you had to set things right Just remember this, my girl, when you look up in the sky You can see the stars and still not see the light (that's right) And I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song, woo, hoo,hoo,woo, hoo,hoo Well I know it wasn't you who held me down Heaven knows it wasn't you who set me free So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains And we never even know we have the key But me, I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song 'Cause I'm already gone Yes, I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song 'Cause I'm already gone Yes, I'm already gone Already gone All right, nighty-night

Bob Seger - "Back In '72" or "Sunspot Baby."

Alice's advice to the lovelorn.... Feed My Frankenstein Alice Cooper Well, I ain't evil, I'm just good lookin' Start a little fire, and baby start cookin' I'm a hungry man But I don't want pizza I'll blow down your house And then I'm gonna eat ya Bring you to a simmer Right on time Run my greasy fingers Up your greasy spine Feed my Frankenstein Meet my libido He's a psycho Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love And it's feeding time You don't want to talk So baby shut up And let me drink the wine from your fur tea cup Velcro candy, sticky sweet Make my tattoos melt in the heat Well, I ain't no veggie Like my flesh on the bone Alive and lickin' on your LUST ice cream cone Feed my Frankenstein Meet my libido He's a psycho Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love And it's feeding time baby, whoa oah!! oh yeah!! FEED MY FRANKEN-STI-I-INE!! whoa oah!! baby, chow down, FEED MY FRANKENSTI-I-INE (*whisper*) he's a psycho Feed my Frankenstein Meet my libido He's a psycho Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love And it's LUNCH time baby, whoa oah!! oh yeah!! FEED MY FRANKEN-STI-I-INE!! whoa oah!! baby, chow down, FEED MY FRANKENSTI-I-INE Feed my Frankenstein Meet my libido He's such a psycho Feed my Frankenstein Hungry for love And it's feeding time baby, whoa oah!! oh yeah!! FEED MY FRANKEN-STI-I-INE whoa oah!! baby, chow down, FEED MY FRANKENSTI-I-INE!!

This has been calming, foursome time. ... Enjoy!

Paper Lace had "Billy Don't Be A Hero". Substitute Billy for Johnny and it fits, perhaps this is the song you're looking for.. The marchin' band came down along Main Street The soldier-blues fell in behind I looked across and there I saw Billy Waiting to go and join the line And with her head upon his shoulder His young and lovely fiancee From where I stood, I saw she was cryin' And through her tears I heard her say "Billy, don't be a hero, don't be a fool with your life" "Billy, don't be a hero, come back and make me your wife" And as he started to go she said "Billy, keep your head lo-o-ow" "Billy, don't be a hero, come back to me" The soldier-blues were trapped on a hillside The battle raging all around The sergeant cried "We've got to hang on, boys" "We got to hold this piece a'ground" "I need a volunteer to ride up" "And bring us back some extra men" And Billy's hand was up in a moment Forgettin' all the words she said She said "Billy, don't be a hero, don't be a fool with your life" "Billy, don't be a hero, come back and make me your wife" And as he started to go she said "Billy, keep your head lo-o-ow" "Billy, don't be a hero, come back to me" I heard his fiancee got a letter That told how Billy died that day The letter said that he was a hero She should be proud he died that way I heard she threw that letter away

Someone somewhere should read them some rules. Makes a world a better place.

I thought the same thing. I made it to the music, which is even weirder.

Wow... This was suggested by a friend. This is the weirdest music vid I've ever seen... Aphex Twin - Rubber Johnny Laurie cautions me to warn people that this is frightening.

For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, Forever and Ever, Rock And Roll All Night, Amen.

Different, but perhaps not so different.

Different, but perhaps not so different.

4 Dillenger Hey Jim, Jim, just a minute y'all I want to ask you somethin' I want you to spell somethin' for me Jim Can you do that? Sure John But I want you to spell for me New York John, why you ask me to do that? I just want you to spell New York, Jim Well alright, I'm gonna go ahead man N-E-W Y-O-R-K, that's New York man No Jim, you've made a mistake, Jim I'm gonna teach you the right way And the proper way to spell New York Well, go ahead, John A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork That's the way we spell New York, Jim - yeah You see I'm a dynamite So all you got to do is hold me tight Because I'm out a sight, you know 'Cause I'm a dynamite But everytime I walk in the rain Man, o man, I feel a pain, I feel a burning pain Keep on burning in my bloody brain I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain I want you to dig me soul brother and soul sister I want you hold me tight because I'm a dynamite - yeah I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain No matter where I treat my guest You see they always like my kitchen best 'Cause I've cocaine runnin' around my brain cocaine runnin' around my brain, yea Hey Jim, Jim? Where is Jim, man? Jim, I want you to tell me somethin' I want you to spell for me New York, Jim Come on, Jim, I want you to spell New York A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork That's the way we spell New York Right on, out of sight man, right on, ooh Right on, yeah, right on Hey Jim, Jim, just a minute y'all I want to ask you somethin' I want you to spell somethin' for me, Jim Can you do that? Sure John But I want you to spell for me New York John, why you ask me to do that? I just want you to spell New York, Jim Well alright, I'm gonna go ahead man N-E-W Y-O-R-K, that's New York, man No Jim, you've made a mistake, Jim I'm gonna teach you the right way And the proper way to spell New York Well, go ahead, John A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork That's the way we spell New York, Jim - yeah You see, I'm a dynamite So all you got to do is hold me tight Because I'm out a sight, you know 'Cause I'm a dynamite But everytime I walk in the rain Man, o man, I feel a pain, I feel a burning pain Keep on burning in my bloody brain I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain I want you to dig me soul brother and soul sister I want you hold me tight because I'm a dynamite - yeah I've got cocaine runnin' around my brain No matter where I treat my guest You see they always like my kitchen best 'Cause I've cocaine runnin' around my brain cocaine runnin' around my brain, yea Hey Jim, Jim? Where is Jim, man? Jim, I want you to tell me somethin' I want you to spell for me New York, Jim Come on, Jim, I want you spell New York A knife, a fork, a bottle and a cork That's the way we spell New York Right on, out of sight man, right on, ooh Right on, yeah, right on Man oh man, I'm on the run I've got to reach the setting sun 'Cause I've got cocaine A whole lot, whole lot of cocaine, man Runnin' around my brain, runnin' around my brain cocaine, cocaine, runnin' around my brain, yeah

Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band "Makin' Thunderbirds"

Lawyers Guns and Money Warren Zevon Well, I went home with the waitress The way I always do How was I to know She was with the Russians, too I was gambling in Havana I took a little risk Send lawyers, guns and money Dad, get me out of this I'm the innocent bystander Somehow I got stuck Between the rock and the hard place And I'm down on my luck And I'm down on my luck And I'm down on my luck Now I'm hiding in Honduras I'm a desperate man Send lawyers, guns and money The shi* has hit the fan Send lawyers, guns and money...

I found this wonderful link to a story I first heard years ago. Grab your favorite drink, dim the lights, and enjoy. You'll need RealAudio, click on "Rebroadcast of Frederick Forsyth's classic novella 'The Shepherd' as read by the late Alan Maitland." A story about a young pilot lost in his fighter jet on a cold Christmas Eve. The Shepherd Ken.