I'm sage-like, so deal with it!

Ballerina lessons? No. Ice-skating class? No. Piano? No. Gymnastics, painting, choir, soccer, band, dancing, sculpting, or any other normal after-school activity? No

Blues harmonica lessons? Yes.

Little Lori had her first harmonica lesson last night after school. She will continue to participate in group lessons every Wednesday for a month or two. Last night after school all she wanted to do was wail on her harmonica. Good god, it sounded like a feral cat getting ass-rammed by a bugling bull elk. The things I’ll tolerate to make Lori happy never cease to amaze me. Similarly, the lies I tell myself so that I can better cope are equally outrageous.

Last night I said, “Obviously, that harmonica is a piece of shit. If you had a quality harmonica you would sound like Lee Oskar.” I then had to elaborate on my obscure reference, “You know, Lee Oskar, The harmonica player from War.” Which required further clarification, “War… um… as in the group who did Low Rider? No. How about Why Can’t We Be Friends?” Thanks to Smash Mouth’s recent mangling of Why Can’t We Be Friends, I finally hit upon something we could both relate to.

I’m excited about this. The harmonica is a sweet instrument; nobody gets beat up or teased for playing the harmonica. And harmonica player don’t have wussy titles like flutist or pianist. My daughter is going to grow up to be the world’s premier harmonica player. She’s going to have talent, attitude, and looks, like a Missy Elliott/Bob Dylan hybrid. Hell yeah. And when she accepts her first (of a dozen) Grammys in 2019, Lori is going to gaze out over the audience and tearfully thank her dad for his continuos loving support and his sage-like wisdom. After which, I will turn to Sherry and smugly remark, “Oh, what was that? Who’s sage-like? That’s right, I’m sage-like!”

Tonight, I plan on jamming with the Lori… a harmonica duet… a battle to see who sucks harder. And yes, I do have my own harmonica, which I haven’t touched in over five years. (After high school I went through this huge I-wanna-be-Bob-Dylan phase. I picked up a guitar and a harmonica and learned to play such classics as Blowin’ in the Wind and Knocking on Heaven’s Door.) Tonight, I will dig out that harmonica and we shall rock until the dogs howl and Sherry threatens to cram our harmonicas up our asses… which would be kinda funny because every time we would fart it would be in the key of “C”.
...and so it was written, shenry at 1/15/2004 01:26:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .