It’s Tingling!…

Strange. I get more hits on this thing when I don’t put up anything new. What does that mean? People would rather listen to Schenker noodle around than read my posts, that’s what. Well here’s more Michael, then.

Both Michael and L .West showed up at the same time. Now that proves that there is a God. JS Bach says he likes the guy with the V. Doesn’t care much for West ( too pentatonic bluesy ), but sees Schenker as a total Bach convert. Says it’s not neo-classic to him, because he invented the stuff.

The collective English queens would like to know how Michael came by his British accent. They like it. They say that Michael can come hang out at the Opera House any old time.

On the writing front, I’ve got an idea that I just wish I was good enough to not mess up. I would like to be able to write a semi-fictitious account of my great-great-grandfather’s military career. Here are some of the facts on which I could frame the fiction.

James Coyne enlisted with the 2nd RI Volunteer Infantry in East Providence in August of 1862. On the morning of December 5th, the 2nd was encamped at White Oak Swamp in Stafford, VA; and the regiment received their first pay ( probably including the app. $100 sign-on bonus for new recruits- an obscene amount of money by 1860’s standards ). The regiment then set out down what is now Rt. 218 in Stafford towards Fredericksburg.

James ( and two other gentlemen from Warwick) never arrived. Officially, James does not appear again in the world until he gets married, back in East Providence in 1864. So there is a two-year gap that I can’t account for; and that would serve as the time setting for the fiction. I would dearly like to fill in that gap.

Off the record, I suspect that he might have been a bounty jumper; because his name shows up later on the rosters of both New York and New Jersey. These guys would collect a sign-on bounty, and then desert; and do it again, if possible. The record stands at 32. It was punishable by death, imprisonment, and public humiliation.

Makes me feel just so warm and fuzzy inside; not exactly the spit-shined glorious Civil War history that we Americans are so fond of. But then again…if he had made it to Fredericksburg, I might not be here to tell you this heart-warming story.

And if that had happened, who would feed you guys Michael Schenker clips?


“I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead”…

That’s a line from Roland’s benefactor and creator, Warren Zevon. He thought it most appropriate.

Here’s one from Woody Allen;

” I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

That got a decent laugh.

A very brisk morning at the Opera House, with three unexpected visitors; Catherine Howard, the Countess of Salisbury, and our own Chelsea.

Catherine and the Countess are just happy to have a new place to hang out. Anything to get out of the damned Tower for a change; and they thought a visit with Anne and Mary a capital idea.  They say that Henry has become quite the bore with his constant clamoring for attention, as if  he were the only ghost in the place; they say that he’s actually miffed at having to haunt the Tower, rather than Whitehall. Not nearly as comfortable. Frontier justice, says Doc.

Their main topic of conversation? Street cred, or rather…platform cred.

Anne was a quick one-stroke. Clean, no complaining.

Mary was a three-stroke; and she tipped the axeman nicely, too.

Catherine was absolutely terrified, but racked up huge points by asking for the block in her chamber the night before, so she could practice being graceful. Style was all with Catherine. And they finished by holding her head up so she could see her own decapitated body.

The showstopper was definitely Lady Salisbury. Even the Gladiators were scared of this one;

At age 68, she kicked and clawed and bit. They had to hold her down, and the stroke got her in the shoulder. At which point she broke free; and they had to chase her about the platform and down the stairs. Even then, it took eleven strokes to complete.

Massive credibility. A hushed silence, and then wild applause.

In closing, all the ladies agreed; never underestimate the English capacity for genius in cruelty.

And Paul Pierce thought that Dwight Howard was bad. Phht.

And Chelsea just wants to hang out and watch the developments next door. A bit resentful at having been discarded so early on. Says she’ll still take the gun over a trip to the Tower any day…

A Paper Box?…

Doc thinks she’s got a pepperbox.

Says they were all the rage in Leadville, and you could walk down Main or Harrison on Sunday morning and find a half-dozen of ’em. Either those, or Derringers.  Some had up to nine barrels, but the pocket models were usually three or four. Also says that he never carried a backup, because he was so damned good with his Colts that it just never became an issue…

Roland is betting on a Colt Cobra or a Walther PPK.  Bach says not to pre-judge, she’s got a shoulder bag, and she could have God knows what in there.

Queens Anne and Mary are expecting a matchlock ” handgonne.”

A bit nasty and dangerous to use.  If it misfired… hence the name. Over the centuries, the term eventually became ” handgun.”

Of course, nothing says that she has to take the gun out. Maybe she’ll take something else out. Maybe a phone, or some gum. Makeup. Or a Blackberry. Anticipation…

What, they all ask, is a Blackberry?

Well… this conversation should take up the rest of the afternoon. Plenty of time to get to the Golden Burro for dinner at 7; they want to see if they’ll show up on the webcam. ( )

P.S. – Doc admonishes me to remember my manners, and thank DS1 and Clark for their recent entries. Or he’ll pepperbox me.

This Old House…

Well, it’s official. The Rag’s digital residents have  relocated to the Tabor Opera House in Leadville, CO. Everyone thought it a good idea to stay nearby the scene of the action in the novel next door.

Apparently a very busy weekend in Leadville; there was a rodeo, a tour of the Opera House, and even a concert later in the evening; some local-hero folksinger guy. The Rag collective found him quite entertaining, and Bach of course kept insisting that his rules of harmony are being strictly adhered to. And just a few nights before their arrival, a troupe of Denver Ghost Hunters were about the place. Queens Anne and Mary say not to worry about all that; they’ve been chased by ghost hunters for years, and all you need do is drain the power from their camera batteries. That pretty well keeps them under control. Tap on the wall a few times, and they’ll be out of there in no time.

Roland suggests that they hold out for a visit from TAPS, who’ve done very well for themselves with a local cable show that was picked up by the Sci-Fi channel. Local boys ( Warwick RI) making good. Well done indeed!. They’ve got really cool new equipment, and Doc says he might get Jesse and Wyatt to show up for that. The Queens say that Henry would be available too, being open to any sort of promotional event. But they will not have him; they are not on speaking terms, even after all this time. They say that he is forever and always knocking things around in the Tower, just trying to get anyone’s attention. Once a ham…

Is it morning already?…

Mr. Holliday overslept this morning. Seems he may have taken a bit too much remedy for that bothersome nagging cough.

He was, on arising, somewhat apologetic for yesterday’s outburst. He’s not sure whether his Colts were .36 or.44; so much of those days are just hazy memories. And he admits a healthy respect for Remington, and even confides in having once owned a Lemat; having heard of Jeb Stuart’s fondness for them. Nine .44 shots on the cylinder, with a shotgun round on the second barrel.

He has also provided a copy of his own favorite photograph of himself, and claims that it is from the mid ’80s, possibly taken in Leadville itself. Portraited without his customary derby; he explains that gentlemen in good standing did not wear their hats indoors. That was considered boorish, disrespectful and rude. And even though an admittedly vicious killer, he was also a prominent dentist; and fiercely loyal to his associates.

And after sharing bowls of coffee with everyone here at the Rag, has promised to take them all on the real tour of Leadville; insisting that the English queens be personally escorted in public, so as not to be mistaken for ladies of the evening. Living in a wild and lawless era is no excuse for poor manners, says Doc; Mrs. Holliday did not raise her children in a barn. The tour will commence at the civilized hour of 4 pm, with dinner at the Delaware Hotel. Proper dress is required.

Chirp…Cake or Death…Chirp…

Eddie Izzard bits done with Legos. The Queens Anne and Mary love this… can’t imagine why. Watched a lot of Eddie while Verizon was down at my house. No phone , TV, or internet. Absolutely uncivilized. But we barely pulled through, thanks to English transvestites and Stevie Ray Vaughn. The Queens are a bit envious of Eddie’s wardrobe, especially the shoes. ” Dress to Kill” still holds up well in spite of its age. Great stuff. And the new biography ” Believe” is quite good, too.

Frighteningly quiet on the novel front. Methinks I may have inadvertently miffed G and C. Ah, well. Barn door’s wide open now. May as well leave it. I know that lots of people would like this if they only knew. How to contact them? Think…think, damn you, think!…

Dark Days…

A very overcast morning at Rag Central.

The Celtics were all at the front gate.

Roland, listless and depressed, won’t even reload the Thompson.

The Queens are most displeased. We have never seen anything so pitifully sad on American TV.

The entire organization…starters, bench, coaches, front office, even Danny Ainge, are here. All headless, and assless. Completely disassembled, actually. Beside themselves. Literally. The Queens will offer words of solace and encouragement, of course. Remember the Spanish Armada, and the French at Agincourt. Rise up and smite your oppressors, etc. Use the longbow, for God’s sake. Just get yourselves together, and die with honor if you must. Talk to the Gladiators, they know all about that sort of thing. Just get on with it.

On the other hand, this fills out the roster for Bach’s headless choir very nicely.

An utterly miserable day.

Dia Dhuit Ar Maidin…

Good morning, in Irish Gaelic. Doesn’t sound like it looks, though. Try saying it whilst slamming your finger in a drawer, and you’d be much closer.

Kobe is off to defend his homeland against the Celtic horde, and we wish him well. In actuality, we are lying; we do not support this endeavor. But he is a very affable young man, and presents very good manners to our English queens. He is always welcome at court, even after his embarassing defeat.

On the novel front, DS1 has reverted attention to the Leadville restaurant. A canny maneuver; we must not leave these people unattended for very long. No Character Left Behind. And let’s not forget the Sleazeball Jimmy, who somehow managed to slide out of town altogether.  Did he go via  Rt.24, or Rt. 91? It could matter very much. Thank God for Google Maps. And on what road might we find Scott/Wanda/Chelsea? Stay tuned…

Glenn now has the floor…an dtuigreann tu. ( ‘If you please’ …but sounds like falling down a flight of stairs )

Don’t Shoot, Roland…

It’s only Kobe.

We ( the respective Queens, Anne and Mary; and that is the collective Royal “We” ) are in general support of Mr. Bryant. He is , after all, one of the best ever. But, with his being from the Dark Side, we cannot indulge him; yet we do enjoy his company. This morning, Kobe arrives with ass intact; it’s all the other Lakers that have experienced posterior separation. We do so enjoy the playoff season. Please, can someone get Kobe a bowl of coffee before he turns into a goat…again?

Profound thanks to all who visited the Rag this past weekend; a great many visits were logged. The novel is going just swimmingly, with several enticing directions having been presented. All residents of Rag Central are on the edges of their collective seats; bowls of coffee all around, hearts on sleeves and heads in hand ( where applicable ). A Bene Placito.

Oh, Foo…

Just waiting on the next entry to be put up, and this seemed like a good video to help pass the time. Theme? Trying to continue working while pressure keeps building…

All right, yes, that is a bit of a stretch. How about I just really liked these guys? Great band, and a sense of humor. Roland wants to shoot at the stuff that gets thrown off the bridge. He swears he hit the TV just before it hits the ground.

Mel still has a few hours before we pass the wand to Clark.

Paul Pierce and Glen Davis think their heads may stay in place long enough to play tonight. Mary Queen of Scots says that if Paul had slipped Dwight Howard a gold coin, he might have made a cleaner job of it. And Mary offers a little-known historical fact; when she leaned in to whisper to the axeman, she asked him if he could change a twenty…thinks in retrospect that maybe that wasn’t such a great idea.

Should be an entry showing up pretty soon. In the meantime, Go Celtics!!