Monday, November 30, 1992

How To Talk to a Drunkard

Well, I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving (who got the wishbone?) and more importantly i hope you all survived the day after (and when I say 'you all' I mean everyone in the music business/industry.) Just how did we all do? We all have plenty to be thankful for so let's take a moment and give thanks…

OK. The newsletter wishes to congratulate the winner of two weeks ago's caption contest, Dave Brean. Dave's entry read: "Sorry your husband’s correct. This one's not a keeper. Look’s like
We’ll have to put it back," Dave got his entry in on time but someone at the newsletter office/warehouse misplaced i t . You might have noticed we previously announced another winner. What’s going on? How can we have two winners? Because as far as one person is concerned (and admittedly that ain't very far) everyone who participates in these pages is a winner!

Last week, my epitaph was delivered to me by a fellow employee in our organization. Upon our introduction, he said, "'So you’re the man who knows everything and reveals even less." At the time, my brain couldn’t decipher whether I should be flattered or insulted. Upon consultation with my guru {my Dr, Eugene Landy if you will), she assured me I shouldn't have spit on the deliverer's shoes.


Maybe what disturbed you most about the encounter was the reflection; when you looked at him you saw a possible version of yourself. Your paths crossed in that brief moment, an inevitable meeting. Yet in an indefinable way, the crossing changed both of your lives from that moment on.

The last you saw of him, he was being taken away. His chapeau covered head was all you could see in the police car. Slowly it disappeared from your sight. Out of sight out of mind.

How did it start? Where did he come from? You were working comfortably in the warehouse, pricing a stack of ripe records when you saw him stumble through the front door. You sensed something was wrong by the sway in his walk, He stumbled back to you and said those unforgettable words, "Igottapeee." You politely but scornfully show him to the bathroom, wondering if you would have to clean up after him. You hope not.

Moments later he asks you if he could use a phone. You pull yours out (meaning the phone) from behind the counter. Placing it on the counter, you figure he would call someone and leave the store. You return back to your station and resume marking a big “X”on the labels of the records. He doesn't seem to be talking to anyone and you notice he seemed to punch a lot of keys. You worry that he is making a long distance call to New Zealand.

Your fears are partially dissuaded however when you hear the annoying mechanical tone of someone who hasn't hung up the phone. He still has the receiver thing in his hand so you glare at him in the best Ted Koppel face you can muster. He stumbles back to you and says either, "Igottacallmywife," or "Howdoyacallmywife." You look at him and shrug. He looks around the store. "WhereamI?" " Landfill 6r you notify him knowing you might as well have said "Lexington Kentucky." "Yougotanytempatationsrecords?" he asks. You point him to your fabulous R&B section.

He stumbles over to where the only other customer in the store is. This customer has seemingly been oblivious to your new friend. Your friend begins to touch the pile of records the other customer has pulled to purchase. He slaps the man's hand. You quickly step out fearing someone is about to be decked and it might as well be you as anyone else in the room. "Get him out of here," the now disturbed customer says. So you tell your friend to leave. He stumbles out of the store only to reappear a short time later.

You repeat your last orders, "I don't want you in here," you say to him. He puts out his hand as if he wants you to shake it in a show of good will, You don't touch people. You again politely ask him to leave but he stands in the doorway wobbling. You're afraid he is about to lose his innards. You've lost yours a long time ago, It wasn’t pleasant. You offer to dial a cab company for him but insist he speak to the dispatcher because you don't know if he has the fare or not and you don" want to be responsible. You look up the number and dial handing the phone over to the man. He takes it and begins punching in more numbers. From your experience on the phone you know this isn't the way it works. You try again and he repeats his actions.

You stare at him (this time with your best Brenda Walsh glare) until he turns and heads to the parking lot. You watch him from your window. He stumbles between parked cars. He appears to be returning to the store. You decide further action is needed. You call the police (non-emergency number), They send a car. You continue to watch through the window like some TV show you are remotely controless to change, The police arrive, see the man and gently escort him into the back of their car. They seem to sit there for an eternity, Then they leave. The man is gone from your life. Neatly disposed of.

"You did him a favor," the other customer says as he checks out with $ 5.00 in scratched green tags.

Monday, November 23, 1992

Top 10 Reasons to Shop at Landfill

1. Reserved parking and spacious shopping. Wide aisles, so there is no need to worry about bumping into other customers. Fast check out service, no standing in lines!

2. Everyday low prices. No gimmicks- everything is priced to move. A wide variety to choose from everything from Martin Denny to Neil Sedeka and more Donny Osmond records than were actually recorded!

3. One stop shopping. Blow your big shot in your game of pool? How about a really scratched up record to remove your blues? Plus our records come with the bare essentials: no need to worry about that cumbersome packaging- NO INNER SLEEVES!

4. Recent arrivals every Tuesday and Friday! (Be sure to get in quickly while the supply lasts!) In participating locations only.

5. Grubby but friendly sales help, (The sales people no longer wear the masks they used to wear to protect against' black lung disease.)

6. Two words: 'Cities 97!"

7. Best eight track selection in the entire Twin Cities Metro area!

8, Free water!

9. A really fine moldy religious selection!

10. Tired of all those lonely nights? Try our huge selection of Harlequin Romance novels!


Last summer on my trip west with my sister we had a bet (a CD of our choice) over which state's license plate would be the last one we saw. We discounted Hawaii (although we ended up seeing one early on) so she chose Vermont and the little guy took Mississippi. Tension mounted as one by one the states were crossed off from our list. Sure enough the last two survivors were our two choices. Somewhere in Arizona a beat up Oldsmobile zoomed past us with a Mississippi license plate. Donna called me last week and told me she wanted Eric Clapton's Unplugged because she likes that song, "Tears from Heaven" (which I can't stand because it is a wimpy drippy powerless ballad) so after I'm done with this week's issue I’, marching straight upstairs and fulfilling my side of the bet. Just thought you all would like to know...

Family Values Part Two:
Why were we so successful in our predictions of state license plates you ask me? It runs in the family. I was recently over visiting my 4 year old nephew, Matti. He got a globe for his birthday last May. My sister told me to ask him to find any country. So I says, "Egypt" and without hesitation he turns the globe and points straight to Egypt. "Japan," I barked out. Straight to the homeland, "Kansas" I says. Kansas it is he points to. Thinking I'd outsmart him I say, "Des Moines" and smugly smiling at my sister I look back at young Matt and his lil'finger was smack in the middle df Iowa (although it was closer to Davenport than Des Moines).

Monday, November 16, 1992

News From Landfill

During the week when your seasoned newsletter editor turned twenty eight, he experienced a few moments he now would like to share with you, his beloved readers.

Last Sunday, I had my most philosophical conversation in many a year, with two black men who had just finished shooting a round of pool down in Louie's. The end result, their conclusion was if I wanted to establish my "true" identity, and find some balance, it was imperative I go live in Japan for a while and get in touch with my roots. Properly inspired, I will be giving my first college lecture on that very topic, 11:30, Tuesday, December 8 at Macalester College in Dr. Professor Janet Carlson's freshman seminar, "Asian Americans" class (11 women). Visitors are welcome (especially if you are of the male persuasion).


Yesterday, three young boys came into Landfill and asked if there was anything they could do to earn a dollar. "We'll do anything," they said collectively and individually. "No thanks," our polite but aged sales clerk replied. "Two words, 'any thing'," one of the lads said. The clerk slowly looked up and said, "That's only one word but I'll answer you in three. Sorry, no thanks."


When a big rock "star" decides he's above a respected institution like MTV, the result might as well be chaos; all rules go out the window. When Bruce Springsteen played Unplugged, plugged and with his band, he violaged the integrity and concept of the show. So in an attempt to land a job on Jay Leno's writing staff, the following is my attempt at some comedy. The concept of the piece is "what would happen if other TV shows didn't follow their established premise?" Gee... I wonder what that would be like...

When America's Most Wanted decides to be America's Least Wanted for a week, it gives us a chance to see a bunch of geeky high school students stufy for their "big" chemistry final.

Life Goes On- not after tht town's nuclear power plant blows up. Special guest appearance by Homer Simpson.

Wednesday night's episode of 48 Hours is extra special as we follow Dan Rather and his staff on the weekend Daylight Savings Time switched back to Standard Time, thus giving us 49 Hours.

Beverly Hills 90210 becomes Beverly Hills 90666 for a week and we are taken from Beverly Hills to Watts, or the other side of the tracks. The laughs never stop with those wacky antics of kids from Central High. Will Bobbi Jo spend her welfare check on ammunition for her boyfriend, or on potato chips for her daughter who has complained of a stomach ache? A poignant episode.

Saturday Night Live- It's a retrospective offering, guest hosted by Gilda Radner and John Belushi, thus the misnomer.

Rescue 911- misdial a number and for a week we get Rescue 411. Follow the exciting careers of phone operators giving out information to their callers.

Star Trek: The Next Generation- We go back (actually technically forward for the viewer) and see how, when, and why the Klingons developed the bulbous forehead. What caused the metamorphosis from the old devilish look on the original show to the reptile scale look (see Worf) on the Next Generation.

Crossfire- a change in image (and administration) prompts the boys to do a haunting a cappella version of "How Do You Talk to an Angel?"

I expect to be hearing from Mr. Leno any day now.


A note about our front page... Once upon a long ago, to avoid naming the newsletter something dorky, I decided to give it a different album's name every week. At first it seemed like a cute idea, but I think its become rather annoying. We will come up with a "real" name someday (how about "Something Dorky?"). As for the volume and issue number, the astute and awake among you pointed out some disrepencies in our numbering system. Hopefully we have corrected that, and have gotten back on track. A wise person once told me, "If you can't be good, at least be consistent." So we will.

Monday, November 9, 1992

How to Talk to an Angel Even Though She is Telling You the Saddest News of the Week

Down in Kentucky, our southern correspondent, Cindy, alias SuperMOM (although she denies blame fo Super America's doughnuts, the ones stuffed with so much jelly that when you bite into it the jelly squirts out the other side. Just how many shirts have I ruined?) reports that a local radio station was giving away tickets to Bob Dylan's Cincinnati concert. SuperMOM dialed the station adn was the lucky ninth caller. Unfortunately, her boss walked in as she was talking to the DJs so she quickly hung up. WAH!