Hey, Bruce. Whatcha doing?
“Well, you know, man: sometimes ya gotta fight injustice. Also, I’m wanted in Greensboro.”
For what?
“Arson.”
Really?
“No, it’s the injustice.”
Okay.
“Y’see, man: I was driving in my car the other night. Nobody else on the road, no cops, nothing. A good driving road, y’know? And before I knew it, I had missed my stop and found myself on the Highway of Hard Decisions.”
Oh, God, you’re gong to tell one of your stories.
“I was makin’ good time, and I passed the Gas Station of Bigotry, and the Stuckey’s of Pettiness, and I had the radio up real loud.”
Roy Orbison?
“Obviously. And I started thinkin’ about something my father used to say.”
Wouldn’t be a Bruce story without your dad.
“He said ‘Stop playing that goddamned guitar.'”
What does that have to do with anything?
“Lemme introduce the band–”
No one has time for the band introductions.
“–on the organ, now you see him, now you don’t: Phantom Dan Federici; on the piano–
Two keyboardists? That’s a terrible idea.
“–Professor Roy Bittan–”
Everyone knows everyone’s names. Stop it.
“–and on the saxophone! The king of the world! The master of disaster! The Big Man, Clarence Garcia!”
What?
“Hi, there.”
We’re done.
Clarence Jerome Garcia.. he was the best.
I got a chance to see some of his saxes at the Rock and Roll hall of fame.
This early alembic model called pleiades was my favorite.
well played . . . I never would have thought < the fat man < one in the same
” the gas station of bigotry, and the stuckey’s of pettiness ” maybe I should get back
on the road again . . .
Pettyness…..
I remember hearing about how Clarence, Jerry & Bobby were gonna move in together. Bachelor’s pad – type shit. Little Rascals No-Girls-Allowed clubhouse. Early 90’s I believe. Never happened.
Damn, that woulda made a fantastic reality show.