things

i walked through the latino part of my neighborhood today. noticed a ton of hillary for president signs. i have been hearing she is very popular with latinos. why? i know there has always been a little tension between latinos and blacks, but their support for her seems a little strong, given the facts.

me? i favor obama, for clinton is one hillary i don't want to climb.

it is easy to think you could beat someone at something, especially if you never play it. sometimes, i'll watch someone playing basketball, and think to myself that i could bust them. there is an old line which goes "what the mind can conceive, the body can achieve."

not true. these kids would probably kill me. i would hit a couple jumpers, and then i would start to feel as if i were having a heart attack. this feeling is why i stopped playing the game in the first place.

speaking of ball, the kidd trade is a real esther roller coaster. it can't be good times for him. well, if he isn't traded, i can still go to good time. kidd in dallas would be cool. i suppose he deserves a shot at a title. but, i'm not gonna sit around and feel bad for a guy who is making over 15 million a year, championship or no championship.

not while the populations of the earth are still being punished for no fault of their own.

monk was something else. his music can really charlie a rouse me. what a body of work...bandleading, composing, piano playing. any one of his skills would be more than enough to make him an important figure in music. all together? amazing. by the way, stop and think of the sax players he used...
coltrane
griffin
rollins
rouse
foster

what a giant he was.

and they thought he was crazy.

patsy cline crazy

crazy like a rick fox

there is so much great monk music. nuns of it is bad. at times, i listen to it religiously, as it helps get me through the night. the unearthed monk and trane at carnegie hall stands up to anything i have ever heard. i love his early recordings with rollins and foster, and his first album with rouse, which also featured thad jones. monk, monk, monk. it's always good. and if he did start to repeat himself a little as time went by, he always repeated great stuff, like stuffy. no hackensack on the piano could play that one. monk, was straight no chaser, but not narrow. a rather large fellow, he played the fool, but everybody plays the fool, there is no exception to the rule. listen baby! monk is from an earlier time, before bebe. his clothes were from a different time, a time when coltrane played time was, and that communist red garland tickled the randolph keys. chambers had it maid then, and people used to sit around and eat corn on the jimmie cobb. there was not a mall for miles. why, you needed a coltrane to get to one. the hawk was not an endangered species then. throughout the harold land, there was good jazz, and the art farmers grew their crops organically, as they all still do in cuba, as james eats kfc out of a james brown paper bags, which is no groove, jackson. he does this at rcc. please say, cc, r, say you and your spanish eyes will wait for me, as i drink a martino with al, a nice feller.
for now, i have more bunker hills to climb with my associates over the next two years. i hope you will give me credit (about 60 of them) for my effort, for i always conduct myself with home pride, for i kneed the bread.

and for once, we will stand in wc fields of wheat, with the whites, and our rye sense of humor will guarantee us good bread at the comedy club.

if you don't feel too close to these puns, maybe you will like what i think of next.

and now, back to the grind.