Day 3

My Grandfather, my Mother's Father, used to have a few colorful sayings when things got cold:

"It's colder than a witches tit!"

or

"It's colder than a well digger's ass!"

Today was both colder than a well digger's ass and colder than a witches tit. Coldernheck, as a Tex Avery cartoon might have said. So dang cold.

Driving home, in the dark (it gets dark at a time of day that in the summer would be "afternoon" but in the winter that same time of day is clearly "night time.") the snow banks on the either side of the ever narrowing road tower over the cars passing under them.

It feels like this:


And if I have to explain to you what that is, well I shouldn't have to, is all I'm saying. To paraphrase Louis Armstrong: If I've got to explain it, you ain't going to get it.

Which reminds me: Louis Armstrong is AWESOME. And don't argue 'cause you can't 'cause it's true and you know it. So don't.

See?



And Also:





Can you top that? No you can not.

Thinking of Louis Armstrong makes me think of another New Orleans Jazz Trumpter, Louis Prima. Louis The Lip. Louis Prima is da bomb. For Real.

Dig it:



This one is a little rough, but...




Who knew YouTube had so much great Jazz footage? Turns out you can also find THE GREATEST PIECE OF MUSIC EVER RECORDED BY ANYBODY EVER.

Les McCann / Eddie Harris:



The President, he's got his war
Folks don't know just what it's for
Nobody gives us rhyme or reason
Have one doubt, they call it treason
We're chicken-feathers, all without one gut

Huh. Song's forty years old. Huh. More things change...

Wait...what was I talking about???