Thursday, June 23, 2011
Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Week To Give Up Posting
Maybe the blogosphere was overloaded with essential celebrity birthday tributes this week, what with Ray Davies, Brian Wilson, Todd Rundgren AND Sherry Stringfield all getting a bit older. Or maybe it was just too humid. But on Tuesday, as I prepared to post a fun little story sent to me by my friend and Hall Of Fame Kinks fanatic, John Dunbar, a series of soul-numbing and nerve-fraying computer mishaps not only prevented me from getting a post up on these pages, but squashed what little patience I possess into little pieces.
(Any Mac users out there? Know that little spinning, rainbow wheel of death? Think of that, every 5 minutes, for 15 minutes at a time. I don't know the equivalent for PC users, but trust me, it sucks.)
It has since corrected itself, and I, myself, and things seem to be back in working order over here at Casa de Quack. So, below, is what would have been here on Tuesday; a story shared in an e-mail by John Dunbar, that really made me laugh.
Tomorrow, your "Weekend Mix."
And that's the way it goes.
I found myself dealing with a buzzing stomach of starvation in Fort Greene, Brooklyn yesterday. There's a pizza place I often pass on Fulton Street that brings a chuckle when I see its, I would assume, jesting name. In a hurry, a slice is always a safe bet, so I finally entered the front door I normally would only pass. I pay for a regular slice and a bottle of water and head over to a counter beneath a gallery of yellowing 8 x 10s in grease-stained frames. All your standards are represented; boxing champs, a still from Good Fellas, old time singers and actors, an abundance of pizza parlor storefronts and some guy dressed as Chef Boyardee. Then, do my eyes deceive me? I spot a very, very familiar photo; The Kinks. Huh? The famous first publicity shot of them holding whips and wearing leather, looking very kinky.
I really did not get it.
When I get to the crust of my pizza, I ask the guy behind the counter, while pointing at the photo, "Is someone here a Kinks fan?" The guy answers, rather unconvincingly, "Yes. The owner." I'm thinking perhaps he became a fan because of the "Please don't keep-a me waiting" line from "Tired Of Waiting For You." Maybe he thought it was sung by a fellow Paisan.
I go to throw out my plate, napkins and bottle and the guy adds. " I think a guy in the band is named Ray." Of course. Then, it hits me. I look back at the exhibit and see Sugar Ray Leonard, Ray Liotta, Johnny Ray, Ray Milland, Ray Charles, dozens of Ray's Pizza shops. How did I not figure it out myself, especially when I knew the name of the joint is "Not Ray's."
The slice hit the spot by the way.