Since the last post, which was only a picture, I have visited the middle belly of the USA, opened an art gallery in my backyard, and hosted a Pogues dance party that got a little out of hand. My son Nick and several hooligans could not hold up Pappy Jack when he attempted a keg stand. Perhaps it was the dancing that diverted their attention; perhaps it was Pappy's six and a half foot tall, 300 pound bulk. In any case, he came tumbling down, bruised but still mobile, mad as hell, looking for some payback at the weaklings who could not support him, not necessarily physically, but psychically, emotionally, for after all, isn't that what a keg stand is all about? As he rose from a decimated food table, covered in ham cutlets, he grabbed a nearby cheese knife, and began flailing wildly as "Whiskey You're the Devil" blared. Unfortunately, Nick was a little too close, and suffered a bit of an injury. Shortly thereafter, six of us managed to bring Pappy's body down with no further injuries. And then Spencer Sparrow managed to bring down Pappy's anger with no further injuries. A few songs later, somewhere around "Dark Streets of London", all was calm; everyone had a good laugh, a good cry, and headed home.
