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Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#46 - Sounds Like A Traditional Folk Song

Vance’sMondayNightAcousticPajamaParty#46 - Sounds Like A Traditional Folk Song

Mostly my stuff that sounds old like that. And I’ll re-play the up-tempo tunes I butchered last week. And other stuff


When: Monday Nite, February 1st 7:30PM EDT (“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -

Who gets 10%: - I love their front page statement - “Our Mission: Finding Everyone A Home”. They also have a Pet Food Pantry, which is pet-close to my heart today (read the story below)

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

You can catch me here too:

Jan 29, 30, 31. The 44th Ann Arbor Folk Festival - I play Saturday nite, but yeah it runs all weekend!

Feb. 5, 7:00PM stream Facebook & YouTube at the link



Porter Sq. Veterinarian are brilliant at what they do. Compassionate, professional, knowledgeable, personable, fair-priced, community supportive, we’ve brought all of our Standard Poodles there from puppyhood to near final days. What they don’t care about is the recorded music on their on-hold line. Not a lick. Lemme explain what happened.

Bessie gutted Greenie - a stuffed foot-long thing that looks like the lime-green cross between a dachshund, a mouse, and a slug - eviscerating it, eating most of the phaux-cotton innards and, we think, it’s whole head. So we GoogleDoctored, got concerned, and called the vet the next morning. As this wasn’t an emergency, the magnificent people at this place cued us up for our doctor and put us on hold.

The on-hold music is a blues quintet with guitar, bass drums and a harmonica trading off with a tenor saxophone, and it is good for about…wait, no, it is not good at all. The sax and harp play the same line over and over again - together, apart, staggered. The rhythm section is incurably robotic. It is as if both Charlie Parker and Stevie Wonder were computerized and then went to the hell made for Muzak. It. Is. Just. Awful.

As we wait for our busy doctor to come to the phone and this horrid music is playing and I’m still looking under the couch and living room rocker for Greenie’s head, Bessie gets up, heads down the hall, and makes that guttural heaving sound all cat and dog owners are familiar with. I say to myself “Here comes more cottony fibre stuff”. William Peter Blatty or Ridley Scott couldn’t have depicted what came out of Bessie’s maw. It was Greenie’s head and front legs and...stuff. Right then the doctors assistant came on the line with “Hi Folks, what can we help you with today?”

"Nothing. We're all set. Thanks.”

Days later now Deborah and I walk up to the unsuspecting other, hum a few bars of that emetic music, gag a few times and then pull from behind us the thing we are throwing up and toss it in front of the other. A stapler. An unopened bag of spinach. A saucepan. A broom with dustpan attached. A folding chair. A cutting board. A laptop.

We had to call the vet about some unrelated stuff yesterday. I asked about the music. The receptionist claimed it to be some “random” Muzak track. Sure it is. Sure.