[Boomer]

Muncle,

Thank you fellow boomer.

"Sweet, sweet, those memories you gave to me."

(I know. I know. That is what the backup is singing in that Dean Martin song from probably more like the 50's not the 60's but the lyrics seemed to fit here.)

You know, I was writing a list of demands that I left around here somewhere, and I remember that one of them was to get a little yellow guy to choose from above who looks like he is making music. Or maybe we could at least get a couple of quarter notes or something. Sometimes I feel compelled to respond in lyrics to old songs.

Uh oh. I have not yet had a digression today. I've been doing fine. (wasn't home) But I feel one coming on. And I was doing so well. I just responded over there in that thread about title insurance, and I thought my response was actually quite pithy. Yes, I said, "Pithy."

But then I just had to go circling for a landing. And here I am. And now I cannot help but tell you about the curse that is upon my head and I do not know why. I do not know why the curse. And I do not know why I have to tell you about it.

I usually warn those who find my digressions an abomination that one is coming on so they should not read any further.

Anyway, here goes:

I cannot sing. I cannot dance. I can only badly play the piano which mostly gathers dust.

But I remember song lyrics. Old song lyrics. Many from before I was born. None that are recent.

I know all the words to all the songs on that radio station in TV.

Remember "Name That Tune"? I would shout the names of those tunes at our little television. And more than once I even won the hundred thousand dollars. But they did not know. I was in my living room.

Then my sister who lived in LA gave birth to her first baby. I took a few days off work. I took a non-stop night flight and it was "California, Here I Come" and "California Dreamin''' all in one terrific flight.

Yeah, it was a big sisterly mission of mercy. But my secret plan was to actually audition for "Name That Tune."

So I called them up.

And they told me to "Come on down." (They used to love us Midwesterners on those shows.)

They said that I would have to take a test. (A piece of cake I knew that would be.)

And they said if the test went well, they would have to see how I would do in front of a camera.

Well, I wish I could give this digression a happy, happy ending.

But I cannot.

The rub was that the "Come on down" part was going to happen the next month. And I had to go back to work. And I had to keep working. I could not bet the house on winning the hundred thousand dollars. And so I could not go to the audition for "Name That Tune."

So sad. Too bad.

I console myself still, yet, by knowing in my heart, that had I made it to the camera part, I would have been able only to stare, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, into the lens.

But I still have hope in my heart. It's in there right next to the knowing.

I read on here somewhere, a long time ago, that there is a pool in TV where they play "Name That Tune." Hey, do they give away any money?

OK. I'm over it now. I mean over it where digressing is concerned (for tonight). Not over "Name That Tune."

You know, when I was over in that title insurance thread, I was going to write all about a title agent who really hacked me off one time. I had to keep making him do things over until he got it right. And it wasn't even us that his incompetence would have put it to. It was our buyer. I was her fairy godmother and she never knew. Oh, that guy was such an idiot, didn't know what he was doing, left out 5 acres, :edit: :edit: :edit:

Never mind.

And Muncle, thanks for letting me land on your thread tonight. And for letting me have my little therapy session here.

Oh and "Thanks for the Memories."

Boomer