No, no. Not that hat. That’s a porkpie hat. Don’t you know anything? The great emancipator would never have worn a hat like that. Not unless he played the saxophone. (Did he play the saxophone? Best ask.)
Oh, right…. I’m keying this into the internets, not merely speaking to some disembodied listener. What was I thinking? Right, well…. as busy as things get here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill in beautiful upstate New York, we never seem to stop finding other things to do with our time. Last week Marvin (my personal robot assistant) discovered numismatics … with a little encouragement from his creator, Mitch Macaphee, who was really attempting to program a penchant for petty larceny into his brass hide. Not one of Mitch’s proudest moments, convincing Marvin that lifting stray coins out of people’s pockets is how coin collecting works. (That mad science grant from the Cato Institute must not have come through.)
Anyway, there was that. Then there was the new Steven Spielberg movie about Lincoln, starring Daniel Day Lincoln. That naturally perked up more than a few ears around this hammer mill, let me tell you … four ears in particular: the ones on Lincoln and his anti-matter doppelganger, Anti-Lincoln, both still acting as historical figures in residence with Big Green. Well, naturally enough, Lincoln (the positive one) took issue with some of the historical details in the new film. “I never said that!” I could hear him exclaim as he watched his pirated copy. “And that crap about vampires – none of that ever happened!” (I think he got his hands on the wrong DVD, frankly, but… it’s not my place to say anything.)
Anti-Lincoln, on the other hand, was strangely pensive about the whole matter. I thought for sure, with his irrepressible temper, that he would blow sky high, rail at the heavens, demanding justice and revenge. Nothing of the sort. He’s been doing a Lincoln Memorial imitation now for the last three days. I just can’t get a rise out of him. I’ll tell you, nature abhors a vacuum, so it may not surprise you that some of the other denizens and hangers-on we have around the hammer mill are getting into the Lincoln act, trying to channel Anti-Lincoln’s stifled rage. Mansized tuber is one, though he can’t get the hat quite right. And don’t even ask about Marvin’s dime store beard.
Well, we’ll work it all out, I’m certain. Now … back to the podcast hellscape.
All these knobs, all these switches… Hey, that’s a good idea for a song. All of these knobs, all of these switches, keep this up and you’ll need stitches, uh-huh. Okay… not a good idea for a song. I’m getting punchy, and small wonder. Matt and I are hip deep in mixing Rick Perry’s new album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick … being a collection of songs that arose from some strange sensory phenomena our dear cousin experienced over the past year. You know how when sometimes you have a little too much to drink or a bit too much …. well, whatever, and the world around you gets all fuzzy and weird, and then the next day you find yourself freighted with all these unexplainable memories of odd behavior, like something your fevered mind cooked up in a dream? Well…. Rick wrote some songs about that.
Sheesh. Another dejected look. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has now officially joined the ranks of the disgruntled. That makes about nine of us, if you count both Lincolns. We are in the dog days and, apparently, the doldrums of summer here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill in beautiful upstate New York, and I can tell you personally, nobody’s happy around these parts. I blame our persistent lack of gainful employment. Most band entourages, as you know, can occupy themselves with the somewhat questionable benefits of touring. Big Green, though, has not done a tour yet this year, and I fear that fact is beginning to wear on us all.