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Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#36 Seldom-Played & 3 Fresh-Made

My feets double held to the fire. I’ll go semi-deep into what of my catalogue I can remember, and I was kinda dared to have 3 new tunes. As I write this I have about 1.36 new tunes for Monday, one called The Mother Of Trouble. We’ll see what the next 76 hours holds in store.


When: Monday Nite, November 23rd 7:30PM EDT (“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -

Who gets 10%: The Arlington Boys And Girls Club - - Honestly I looked and they don’t have a mission statement, but they're for all kids, all income level families, they sell Christmas trees, do remote after school learning, basketball, full COVID adjustment for kids stuff..No wonder there’s no mission statement. My Neighbor Joe says they’re great.

$$$: or or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17, Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.
Pay or not. It’s up to you. Let’s just stay connected.

This week’s pajamas: cozy grey ones because weather folks say 30’s and rainy.

I coach voice, songwriting, performance. Contact me. I have some open spots

Good Good Man - the CD - streaming all platforms, even get it from me…



He was unloading cement bags at a resident’s driveway. Ford F-150 trucks were already there, their owners working. He looked maybe 25-ish, tall, curly hair, peach-faced, no mask. And yes, I said it without thinking.

“Is this your truck?”

He looked at me from the driveway, and began walking towards where I stood in the street next to his ride. His intent somewhere between defensively curious of my inquiry and retrieving another bag of cement to shoulder.

It was mid-sized Toyota pick-up with extra-small satin-black mag comp spoked extra wide wheels sticking out of the wells. The truck was also satin-black with a dark bronze/gold runner board highlight that was continued over the fender. All of this was highlighted by the finest grey pin striping separating the two colors.

“These colors are not stock, and they are gorgeous.”

His face lit up like a tilted pinball machine as he approached me. “I did the work myself!!”

“Don’t get too close, bro”, I cautioned, stepping back. “I’m old and at risk”.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

“Did you do it with heat or just room temperature with a stock paint gun?”

“Just a warm day. Mixed the gold myself too”.

“Oh man, the gold is toned down just right for the black - you killed this…”

He ran his hand somewhat sadly over the top of the fender where it met the flatbed body. He sighed and said, “I got some ripples here I’m not real proud of…”

“Young man, whatever you see there falls in the shadow cast by the raised lip on the bed and disappears. All I see is class color choice”.

Beaming again. “Thanks so much!!”

And there we were.
I don’t know maybe I’ll bet probably from different worlds today. There we were. With our revolutionary 70’s Marvin Gaye in our earbuds and our high-carbon footprint vehicle and our man dicks and our Y chromosomes and our skin colors and our classy two-toned truck, our day changed forever by our differents and our sames stuck for two minutes in a truck flatbed common ground.

Happy Thanksgiving