A conversation this evening:
(Phone rings.)MIKE: (Picks up phone.) City Morgue: "You Stab 'Em, We Slab 'Em."
BUSH-CHENEY '04 PHONE BANKER: (Silence on other end.)
MIKE: Hello?
BC04: Is there a Michael Ubaldi there?
MIKE: Ah...yes. Yes.
BC04: Can President Bush count on your support at the polls this Tuesday?
MIKE: Yes he can.
BC04: Do you know where your voting place is?
MIKE: I do. Once I find my way out of this drawer (Thought about actually saying last bit, didn't; probably better off.).
It's Halloween Night with a few hours to kill (forgive the pun), I'm confident about Tuesday, ready to vote and inordinately restless. Noodling about with six strings helps distract. (Here's a silly little excerpt-medley on my cherry-red Gibson 335 knockoff. The first is a song I was convinced I couldn't stand, Kinks or Weird Al. The second should be familiar though just not the same without a Fender Stratocaster [Or the Edge. — ed. But I have hair!] The third should be familiar to a couple dozen Concord fans and the Concord boys themselves.)