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My Dear Fellows of the Corn: I mean both John Barleycorn and Steve Winwood


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Fortunately, or unfortunately, the above topic will be my last topic, so sorry to say. I know you will feel happier than I.

 

 

Basically, and fundamentally, for the preservation of this blessed forum’s continued ennui, I have made the sorrowful decision to withdraw from further postings of any new topics, at least for the foreseeable future, a future which I consider to be the period which might extend through ought the next eight years, roughly until around the year 2019.

 

This does not mean that I will forget you good people.

 

On the contrary, I will hold you all in my heart, and you will remain my fondest friends, FOREVER.

 

You know, if they granted me one final wish, then it would be to go on posting topics which we know are unappreciated and, even, sometimes disdained.

 

Yet, I cannot continue to post disdainful topics, no matter how much I might like them, unless they might be, also, equally disdainful to you, and less harmful to the good of the whole.

 

Therefore, now, I must just say…Bye Bye…

 

All you old guys: I hope you outlive me.  Because, this might not be so easy to do, for you….

 

Also, to Scottish guys here from Scotland:  I LOVE Jack Bruce!  SUNSHINE!

 

Even better:  Jack Bruce…CREAM..

 

And, so much more….

 

JACK BRUCE:  Born Under a Bad Sign 

 

 

 

So Great!

 

It is difficult, neigh, impossible to say just how great JACK BRUCE was and still is.

 

I love the guy!  Always have.

 

I will not forget guys like Jack Bruce, from Scotland.

 

No one will, probably.

 

 

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You know.

You know if you know anything at all.

You know if you know anything at all that Jack Bruce sang his heart out during his final greatest performance at the Royal Albert Hall .

 

Jack Bruce was a guy from Scotland, a good man who gave his all to end his life in the best way he knew how.

 

Jack Bruce was tough.

 

If he were not so tough, then how could he perform as well as he did, during the final days of his life?

 

 

 

 

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About eight years ago, I asked the question concerning why there are so many very noisy roosters in Thailand, birds that don't tell time.  They crow at odd hours, and nobody seems to care.

 

No doubt, most people here are still plagued by roosters. Yet, these days, I am not.

 

In Thailand, it is difficult to find a place to sleep without the sound of crowing. Last year, I finally found a place without poultry.

 

In my opinion, the only good rooster is one hanging on a hook.

 

 

1280px-Chickens_in_market.jpg.1e8f79e7da4e7a4ad418d207f346e405.jpg

 

I mean, when roosters or chickens are hanging from a hook, then rarely does one hear a peep out of them.

 

There are a few good songs about roosters which I enjoy, especially the old ballad about Red Roosters.

 

Almost everything I once knew, I no longer know, except for this one short tune about poultry.  Maybe you might recall it, too?

 

 

 

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Obviously, this new morning is transpiring into another STORMY MONDAY.....on a Thursday at Royal Albert Hall.

 

 

Ginger Baker is his same old self.

Man, I really feel sorry for him.

He got the short end of his drumstick.

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