Steve Cook's soul, song, and sweat.

Shinybass journal entry 11-14-12

And he surfaces from the deep!

I’ve been a bit MIA lately, and for that I apologize.  A couple weeks ago I decided to let the country focus on the election and not write a blog.  I wouldn’t want to sway the minds of my dozen readers as to which way to vote.  I think it’s interesting that everyone with a social media account and a valid password found time to comment on the election and attempt to sway their dozen followers to vote one way or another.  Not only do I find the internet fascinating, but I think that it’s amazing that with all the free social media outlets, video channels, and blogs out there that the campaign cost 5.8 BILLION dollars.  I’d like to think that even I could get elected for almost 3 billy-o large.  And what happens to the leftover money?  Well, up until 1989, candidates could spend it on themselves.  Like for country club dues and vacations (that losing race was so hard on us that we had to go to Fiji for a month…), but if you owe money, you have to pay it off.  Secretary Clinton had a 25 million dollar campaign debt hanging over her head (but now it’s been whittled down to $73,000), and others hit that speech circuit and fancy dinners to gather donations.  Funny how that game all goes down.

So left well enough alone and, of course, the world went to hell in a hand basket.  Sandy hit, which was an awful storm with terrible after-effects, and there was a real situation, which of course, the candidates jumped all over.  Funny how that works, too.  In the middle of the storm was a bass company that I had to interview for Premier Guitar, and that was delayed by a week.  Then the 3 hours of interviews sacked me, then I was chained to my desk until I had the feature done.  All this with a needy foster dog who appreciates me in the yard instead of at said desk, preferably with a tennis ball in hand.  This all sounds so tragic, right?  It’s not.  Having a roof where other don’t and heat where others are cold (although my wife would disagree since she is always cold), I have nothing to complain about.

And then there is the other issue:  I haven’t had many shows lately.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy, but this journal is to tell you about how crazy/wonderful/sad/stinky/tiring/rewarding life on the road can be, and not for me to tell you how muddy the dog paws are.  Oh, I guess I just told you. OK, maybe I have had a couple of shows.  Wanna hear about it? Here it go.

We played a private gig downtown for Carl Black Chevrolet.  Glad to be playing for the Carl Black folks.  That’s all I am going to say about that.

Sunday we played pregame for the Tennessee Titans.  In an odd twist of fate, Steve Cropper, good friend of ours and legend in his own right sat in with us.  I think the Chicago fans dug it (since there were about 40,000 of them there), and I know the band could have played another hour with Crop if they would have let us.  So we hit ‘Midnight Hour’, ‘Dock of the Bay’ (both penned by Steve), and Soul Man by Sam and Dave (Play it Steve!) and then we ate BBQ and had a beer.  A fine Sunday afternoon, indeed.


So now that my article is done (anxiously awaiting the rewrite requests), and I am caught up on laundry, it is off to the races.  That would be the mad dash to get Christmas presents (already halfway done with shopping!), and feeling incredibly nostalgic lately, which may lead to videos from days of yore with boys of Konga.  What else is there to do with all this video equipment?

I hope you have an exceptional week, and I can’t make any promises about being on time for next weeks’ entry, but thank you for the fire under my narrow ass to get this one out.


See you on the road!



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