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February 3, 2002 punchy I decided to go out by myself to hear an Austin, Texas, rock-and-roll band passing through this comatose Hamlet on its way to Baton Rouge and New Orleans.  It's been a while since I've gone out to a honky-tonk to listen to live music.  I don't care what any of the AA folks say, live rock-and-roll and bars do not go well with sobriety.  But I went anyway because I love music and because I felt like getting a jump on the Lenten season. The newspaper said that "Punchy" would start playing at 9:30 P.M.  Now, I haven't been out of the loop so long that I thought the band would actually begin playing at 9:30, but I did think I should get to the club at about that time so I could get a seat.  It worked.  I had my choice of any seat in the house except for a booth occupied by Punchy groupies.  I chose a chair at a two-person table so that the number of people who were not with me could be identified as only one.  I told the waitress to bring me a club soda with lime and to keep'em coming.  Frequent urination would give me an excuse to mingle, if only with drunk men gently swaying at the urinals. I frankly forgot about the "opening act" concept.  Punchy was preceded by a band which kicked off the evening's entertainment at 10:35 P.M. and proceeded to suck enormous burro units for the next hour.  I contemplated suicide to escape the cacophony, but I feared the not-so-sharp crowd that was oozing into the venue might not notice a dead body reeking of club soda hanging from the rafters.  So I endured the opening act and was only slightly cheered by the appearance of two young ladies who had taken seats at the adjacent table. Punchy began playing at 11:40 P.M. which is only three hours past my bedtime.  They were terrific, though.  And the ladies at the next table seemed to enjoy them as well.  At one point in the middle of a song, the woman closest to me leaned over and asked me a question to which I replied, "Katharine Ross sometime after 'The Graduate,' but before 'Butch Cassidy.'"  This was the correct answer to the question I heard her ask which was "who do I remind you of ?"  Unfortunately, this was not the question she actually asked because she frowned and yelled, "No!  Who do THEY remind you of ?"  Apparently, she was referring to the band's music and this had been some kind of test to see exactly how hip I was.  I had already proven that I was not only unhip, but I was also deaf and lecherous.  Nevertheless, I could not let our conversation end in this kind of verbal premature ejaculation so I furrowed my brow, stroked my chin and offered, "Oh, yes.  The band.  They remind me of 'The Replacements' fused with 'Wilco.'" I knew immediately I had gotten it wrong.  And I already felt a surge of self-loathing at my use of the word "fused."  What was I ?  A fucking electrician ?  Katharine Ross frowned again and shook her head, "They sound a lot like 'The Attractions' to me."  She was right, of course.  Punchy did sound like early Elvis Costello.  I nodded as though she were a doctor and had just given me six weeks to live.

©  2002 by the beastmaster