Answers to a Man Named Alias, A Week Gone by, A State Fair Performance Review and Much More

"I'm not saying they should be censored, but it would be nice if there were some kind of quality control. A lot of stuff out there is just not meaningful. The record companies shouldn't be involved, but maybe the artist should be made to sign a contract asking, 'Do you mean it?'"
-B. Dylan (the same fella who once said he didn't like watching women rock stars perform because they just "whore themselves."

"I was sitting home alone one night, in L.A. watching old Cronkite on the seven o'clock news..."

The man finally acknowledged his audience Friday, despite being shrouded in darkness. "It's always nice playing in my home state... Thankewe everybodeeeee!!!!"

His performance was neat. I especially enjoyed Tangled Up in Blue, Boots of Spanish Leather, You Gonna Quit Me, and God Knows. Dylan's vocals, guitar and harmonica playing were most excellent.

Of course, just about anything would have cheered me up on this evening. A few nights before I was called a "scrawny little wimp." (I'm sure it was only meant in the most positive sense of the words.) My softball career resumed? and the team's best player was batting when one of the other players said to me, "In high school he used to be your size, just a scrawny little wimp." Meanwhile I went ohfernine and made two incredibly dumb plays in the field doing my best to immitate Jeff Reboulet. All this sans my softball partner extraordinaire.

True or false? Can one skinny dip without removing one's clothing? Reminds me of a staff meeting we had at the state once, where a former supervisor began the proceedings by asking us, his beligerent minions, what the definition of "in" was. Putting aside our dirty thoughts, what his question referred to was why no one was using the "in/out" board. If you weren't at your desk were you in or out? A few weeks later he was laid off which meant he was out I guess.

So I got home and had a scare. I though Max might have rabies. Turns out he had just gotten into a container of Kool Whip.

I endured. Survived. Sang along with all the other Santana fans I found myself surrounded (and touched by) dancing, singing/chanting "Oye como va" and imagine the delight of all: a live version of Black Magic Woman! So when the other scrawny little Minnesotan finally hit the stage sometime after nine well my heart went pitter patter and a smile worked its way on my face and it didn't matter that there was an audible come down from the dancing Santanites and the merry, peppy musical world tour he had led us on.

Answers? Stevie Wonder never sang Cats in the Well. Neil Young who never carries a light bulb, or sings a Ballad in Plain D, but still needs a Shot of Love and as proven Friday, Bob is still among us like his Twin Peaks namesake.