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Wednesday, July 4th, 2012

A Holler and a Swaller

Hello, friends!  Rob here.

Every so often, people who I sort of made up for the sake of this story will come up to me after a show and ask me something like, “hey, Rob, your blog is amazing and you are the best-looking person in your band by a significant margin, but I have to know: why do so many of your blog updates have such zany titles?”  Well, imaginary friends, I’ll explain.

Sometimes I just use a combination of words that relate directly to events or ideas expressed in the entry at hand.  But that’s boring, so, whenever possible, I like to use combinations of words that I encounter over the course of the previous week that stick out to me for whatever reason.  Such is the case with last week’s “Space Jill,” which was named after a handmade label stuck to a jar of handmade booze that someone was nice enough to share with me during our adventures in Nelson Ledges Quarry Park.

This week, the title was a gift from our dear friend Mary Frances, who sings words and plays bitchin’ keytar solos (like, keytar behind the head bitchin’) in Yo Momma’s Big Fat Booty Band. Saturday in Mobile she proposed a toast to the audience in the form of “a holler and a swaller” (meaning yell and then drink- two of my favorite things!) and basically gave me something to say a bunch of times while celebrating Freedom Day today.  So thank you YMBFBB, for that, and also for teaming up with us to sell the living crap out of The Soul Kitchen.  You guys are good at notes.

Speaking of “you guys are good,” New Orleans!  Wowee!  Friday’s quasi-homecoming show at One-Eyed Jack’s was one of the most enjoyable in all my years as a band guy.  Nothing beats homefield advantage, and our New Orleans friends took the energy and rocked and raged right back, twice as hard as we ever could.  Thanks for an amazing evening!  Thanks to our pals Stokeswood for starting it off right.

On a more somber note, I can’t believe that today is our glorious nation’s last birthday ever.  Those dastardly Mayans have only given us 169 more days to live, and I’m pretty sure that’s less than a year, which means this is the last America Day for EVER.  So I’m going to stop writing words at a computer screen and get out there and do freedom stuff like take my shirt off and yell about immigrants* and possibly wear a bandana.  I suggest you do the same.

Goodbye everyone!  Have a safe and pleasant Independence Day!

*: Neither this blog nor the band associated therewith condones yelling about immigrants.

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