47

RESTAURANT OWNER: "Good afternoon, Dr. Murphy. We wanted to let you know that this evening we will have another artist. Your style is unique and confrontational, which is good to have, but the clientele that we have slowly forming may not be as appreciative as we are. As business owners, we have to cater to the public with the type of music we play as we do with food and drinks. I think we all agree that people are becoming more sensitive regarding other opinions, but since we are starting, we'd rather play it safe for now. I personally didn't hear any religious comments, but a guest informed us that there were several anti-God lyrics. We are trying to create a more comfortable place for everyone. Thank-you."

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Not everyone shares the Doc Sully Blues Band's vision. As the singer for this group of iconoclastic troubadours, I sometimes enter a trance-like state when mota, pastillas y birongas induce a transcendent euphoria. I sing in tongues. I can't remember insulting God or Trump or anyone's mother that evening when my stint with the restaurant came to an end, but it was brought to my attention later that a customer who had ordered a basket of fries and a cold beer--a bill that totaled less than ten dollars--was the arbiter who denounced my act. It isn't the first time that others haven't shared my vision. Commissioner Ben Neece, my old friend and personal lawyer, threatened to kick me off his stage at the Spanish Moon if I didn't bowdlerize my lyrics. A wife divorced me because she didn't share my appreciation for a novel I had written. The past BISD superintendent expressed that I faced termination with the school district if I continued along the fictional path in which I was chopping through the brush with my machete. And Facebook finds fault in my reporting and I'm sentenced to silence for a period of time. But, in the end, there have been victories. I have emerged on the winning side in campaigning for candidates and arguing issues. The great writers of the world seldom have my everyday experiences. I walk into The Library or the Vermillion or Mi Pueblito or any number of bars and establishments and I'll encounter an individual who tells me how much he or she appreciates my writing. I can handle the setbacks. They make the triumphs that more savory. On the positive side, there is no dearth of places that would feature the Doc Sully Blues Band. The proprietor might add, "Can you tone it down, Tommy? There are children in the audience.")

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

6

L ike a hound pointing to its game, the Spring Breaker followed his boner to his condo with the blond co-ed in tow. She had stepped up to the beer bong thrice and could barely walk. He led her into his room and stripped her of her thong as if he were peeling a banana. He was soon straddling her when he stopped an inch short of entering her shaved pussy. "I must confess something," he said. "What?" she slurred. "I have tested positive for HIV." "Have you tested positive for Coronavirus?" she asked. "No." "Then let's fuck, cowboy!!!" 
Read more

5

I was standing at the bar at Cobbleheads when I saw owner Joe Kenney walking past. I grabbed him by the bicep. "Pretty flabby for a guy from Phillly," I said. "Fuck you, Sully," snapped Joe before continuing with that goofy accent. "What do you want?" "I didn't get a chance to wish you Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'd pinch you on the butt since you're not wearing green, but you have a lousy lookin' ass. Let's toast the San Patricio Battalion." "A bunch of filthy traitors," spat Joe. "General Scott should have hung all the bastards instead of branding the majority of them." "You were in the Herald saying that Mexico and the United States had special ties as a result of these Irishmen switching sides in a war that Abraham Lincoln criticized as imperialism run amok." "It's all about business," confessed Joe. "I can't express my true sentiments about those Benedict Arnolds. I h...
Read more

1

My patio faces east. In the early afternoon the sun has embarked on its ancient descent toward the west and I relax on my lawn chair in the shade. I breathe deeply. My lungs are clear. Coronavirus has me contemplating life from a variety of angles. I am led to believe that those who suffer death from the disease suffocate. That doesn't sound like a pleasant exit to me. As a result of this grim reality, I have quit smoking dope. I don't want to weaken my lungs any more than 55 years of puffing on joints has wreaked on them. I have been retired for three years from the BISD after the superintendent threatened to fire me if I kept writing. I chose to keep writing. It is my spiritual calling. I had contributed 39 years to the school district and I was working for free. Retirement was a logical option. I don't miss the job, but I do miss my students, athletes and colleagues. I liken my present existence to floating down a lazy Hill Country river in an inner tube. Little did I kn...
Read more