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The Blank Mural on Paducah’s Flood Wall
One time, the Kentucky government decided to encourage its cities to give lumps of coal, gift-wrapped in tobacco leaves, to designated sister cities of other countries. Sister cities were a big thing in the past. For example, Paducah sistered with a German town, Niederdorfelden, and would trade recipes, local art, and calligraphed goodwill documents, and the like.
The tobacco-wrapped coal program lasted for 2 years: 1902-1904. The abrupt ending of the “new tradition” was due to the fact that the people of Niederdorfelden took great offense at the coal. The previous year, St. Nik had given coal to the bad children at Christmas time. In fact, a sizable lot of children had received coal. Subsequently, Paducah received a bag of manure encased in a giant orange made of marzipan.
The confusion led to anger, guilt, anger again and then laughter. “No Hard Feelings” became the motto of the kinship and they stayed true to each other’s goodwill until about 1917. -
A Cradle Kid
Sonny has two things going for him. The first is his brilliant way of knowing what kind of dinner to order. Mine is always bad. And I sometimes order from the same places he does. He just seems to know which place is going to be good on the right day. Once, I got mashed potatoes from this place that Sonny always orders from and they were runny and box-tasting and had begun to swiss cheese on the sides. He got General Tso’s chicken from a place that usually gives me a headache. I swear they use MSG. But he said it was the best he’d had in a long time and I believed him. The other thing he has going for him is a cradle big enough to fit him and a lady.
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Bassoon tracks
Walter Kuhr kindly came by the studio the other day. He laid down some bassoon tracks for a few songs. I was going to use bass clarinet but couldn’t find anyone. It’s better to have friends play anyway. It’s more fun that way. He’s the fellow who directs the Main Squeeze Orchestra, the all-girl accordion orchestra. He also runs an accordion shop called the Main Squeeze. He fixed the bellows on my accordion last week. He’s a very good fellow.
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The Suppertime of Jules Verne’s 178th Birthday
Diary Entry: February 9 (as dictated to the secretary, Charles, who writes very slowly)
14 knocks on my door. I counted each one. Some were in cadences familiar to everyone. Five of those and then nine in a steady manner. I waited for the fifteenth one but it never came. When I got to the door and peeped through the hole, I saw a delivery guy holding a bag. It was my dinner. So, I opened the door and the guy held the bag up. It didn’t say Spice on the bag as it usually does. The guy moved his other hand from his waist to behind the bag. A moment to gasp and then he shot at me through the bag. If it weren’t for my copy of The Green Gable Show I would have passed away immediately, barely missing my 178th birthday dinner. The man had only one bullet and his eyes got big and full of tears as he fired. And he didn’t even have a true food delivery. It was an empty bag! I grabbed his gun. I smacked him across the cheek with my book. I handed him back his revolver. I offered him a second bullet to try again, always keeping one in my pocket like one would keep a lucky rabbit’s foot. He was too shaky (but not from anger as I was) to put it in and kept leaving the key chain on it, so I did it for him and handed it back. He shot me in the face this time and I got madder than hell. He hit my face! I went to my desk, bleeding all over the place (I’d just bought a white shag rug for $200 at a popular store to impress some girl who use to be special) and rummaged for another bullet, finding one more. I put it in the gun myself as I was walking back to the door with my face dripping blood. He was gone. I was angry. I tantrum-stomped and bled all over that stupid rug. Finally, my real dinner came and I fibbed to the real delivery guy and said “You must have the wrong address” because I’d lost my appetite from all the cheek blood that was bleeding inside my mouth. Then, I got hungry again. -
Recording with Tuba Joe
I recorded tuba tracks on four songs with TubaJoe Exley today. He is Exleynt on tuba. sorry.
You can hear his stuff here. The sounds he did with me are for the cd I’ve been working on which is supposed to be done, soon.
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More Bonnarrooooooo!
Bonnarooo!
I caught a ride with a friend of a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. He had rented an rv and I made some new friends and had a swell time getting to Tennessee.At one point, we saw a giant smoke ring.
Show. I had an excellent show. An excellent time. I don’t know how it could have been better. I played in a tent and it was hot and I sweated tremendously, but I don’t think ac would have made it better. I’m sure someone could make a chart and show me how it could have been better but I can’t. In my memory, it was perfect.
This is how my dad eats salad. We only appear angry.
Free. My one-man band status allowed me to treat my new friends to dinner with free-dinner passes. I met Lewis Black and had a nice sandwich. I caught up with some old friends at the bar tent where the free beer was poured. My friend, Matt, wanted some free shoes, so I told him to say he was my drummer. I found out later that someone used that idea to get free pants and it worked.
I didn’t get a picture from the studio, so here’s a picture of my cousin’s studio.
Recording. Later that day, I hooked up with Ben Folds and rode with him and his crew to Nashville. The next day we recorded a Darkness cover for an ep at his studio, which is amazing. It’s the old RCA studio that Chet Atkins built. Elvis and Johnny Cash recorded there. My dad got to come by and check it out, too. Speaking of dads, supposedly Elvis’ son came by at one time and told Ben that he use to sit on his dad’s lap at the mixing board. At a later time, some old dudes wandered by and almost confirmed the claim. You should ask Ben yourself because I’m telling it all wrong.
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You’re Welcome
Dear Corn Mo,
At the behest of Mr. Bill Stites, I checked out your Bonnaroo set and
was blown away by it. Never before have I been as utterly compelled
by a single musician with an accordian, or even watched one for that
matter. I was pleasantly surprised to find you’d be in Baltimore
shortly and will be getting together the small group of people that,
while watching your Bonnaroo set, I thought “I know some people that
would love this” about.Also, while mildly intoxicated in the backstage band area, I
approached the designer jeans tent and asked for a pair. When asked
what band I played with, I instinctively spouted out that I was “the
drummer for Corn Mo.” We talked about our (your) music for a while
and then she gave me the pants. Since I would not have these pants
were it not for you, I felt I had to send you my sincere thanks. They
are strategically pre-ripped and come with a large skull on the left
leg that appears to be smiling. I have enclosed a picture of the
pants for completeness.Once again, thank you very much for your entertaining show and
(indirectly) for the pants, and I look forward to seeing you in
Baltimore!-Yancy Davis
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New Video Posted
Corn Mo with They Might Be Giants performing Hocus Pocus by Focus
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Bonnarooooooooo!
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The Man with Almost Tremendous Foresight
I played 2 shows on Saturday. One was in Red Bank, NJ and the other was in New York City. The second one was easy because I was to sit in with Mr. Brownstone on a song for their last show ever to be had in NYC. The only thing was, I kept forgetting the words to Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. It should be easy, like who played Uncle Buck, but for some reason I always forget.
It was on the J train to Bowery where I was trying to remember the second verse to this song when a man came into my car and started playing it. I hadn’t even prayed for it, yet and didn’t know I was going to. I looked for some money to give him but didn’t have any. I mean I did, but I needed the ten.
He got to the second verse and I began to remember the words quicker than he sang them (music therapy is a good memory extractor) but I still couldn’t remember the third line. And when the dude got to the third line, he mumbled it. Like when God made fool’s gold for the prospector, Yiminy.
And then, as he walked out of the subway car to the next, he said something in my direction but I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or the other guy sitting near me. He said, “If you wear something like that outside, your gonna get knifed.” I’m glad I didn’t get stabbed because I was wearing white pants.
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Two Dudes Helping Out
Fortune Dave confessed to making placating concessions to his doorman, Undisclosed Steve. Steve eats salads that Dave makes at home and in return Steve acknowledges that Dave has a place to live. Code Red Days are the days that Steve requests a Dagwood salad. Those days, Steve will stand by the door for the duration of the meal. The rest of the day is spent at Steve’s own place where he plays Worlds of Warcraft, all day, sometimes explaining to other warriors at the bar what a Dagwood is. Once, when all the warlocks were listening at a nearby table, they looked up from their ales at Fortune Dave, who then made his confession.
Then, there was Vampire Pokey, who was teeming with dead blood. Where and when he showed up depended on who was in need of a party favor and Pokey loved to give. Other vampires gave him the Dorian Gray look- you know, that vampiric looking down and closing eyes while turning back to the important party.
There was a gaggle- no wait- a murder of mummies who were never royalty but just experiments of a long gone indigenous group of people who had heart. Pokey gave them dead blood all the time.
And when Horse Day came-the day when parades provided tired Clydesdales for the chumley vampires- Pokey didn’t hang around for idle chit chat (“Oh, did you see the jockey that Chauntey killed? He said he was like the end of a milkshake.”) Pokey went to the mummies and gave them some dead blood from his wrists and then spent quality time with them, learning about berry picking and shell jewelry and sometimes just burning one of them in order to transfer the spirit to a wildcat. That kind of thing. -
Renelvis Eve
The last time that I played with Renelvis was some time ago in Raleigh, NC. My friend, John Ray Rickey, lived there at the time and he wanted the two of us to be involved in his buddy’s wrestling tribute spectacular. It was spectacular. I wrote an entry song for each character. All wrestlers had a special power and would use that special power in order to defeat the opponent. Years before, back in Denton, when I was in the Dooms, we wrestled Cornhole to decide who would headline. Our 8 piece art rock team pulverized their 5 piece giant country rock team (sorry for the lack of proper dashing).
Renelvis had two Elvis suits that he’d made himself for the two sets-one of Elvis songs (blue suit) and one of songs inspired by Elvis (orange suit). When I approached him after the show to congratulate him on being a great showman, I was blocked by this other fellow who told me immediately that Renelvis had cd’s for sale. Renelvis then introduced his “manager”, Colonel Tom Parker. The Colonel was autistic. I don’t know what kind of autism he had. I saw an autistic fellow do a stand-up routine once. Renelvis’ daughter is also autistic. I think he met the Colonel through the school his daughter frequents for her autism. He is a kind man.
John Ray tried to submit him to an Outsider Music Showcase but was denied because he’s an impersonator. Bo Jackson and Ben Franklin can only play baseball and the glass harmonica, respectively, and that’s it. If you write a song called, “Elvis on Terrorism” you should get a pass to take you out of the impersonator’s waiting room. I’m looking forward to his show. -
Dave Hill’s Explosion
I saw The Dave Hill Explosion last night. He had Fred Armisen, Malcolm Gladwell, and Walter Schreifels as guests. Fred Armisen did his Sadaam Hussein impersonation. It’s a good one. He’s a funny dude. Real nice, too. I really like Malcolm Gladwell’s articles for the New Yorker. I haven’t read his books, yet. He reminds me of a cross between my old therapist and John Linnell. He’s very articulate and much smarter than I am. Walter Schreifels used to play with the Gorilla Biscuits. I’d never seen them but I liked his song. It was very well written and he sings nicely. Dave Hill is a funny guy. A good showman and a good guy he is. I hope he wins.
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Notes From a Scuffle with Foreshadowed Macular Degeneration
The shiner that David got was comparable to the shiner that Sean got that was comparable to the raccoon with nothing going for it except for Monday’s trash. David bought a pair of sunglasses for $5 and wore them all day. At night he felt foolish wearing them yet, he had no choice. Only the day before had he pulled a chain out of his truck to “whoop up on” Steve, who had pulled out a small club from his truck to “give David what for”. David’s chain got caught on Steve’s club and echoes from Lord of the Rings made the fight somewhat of a comfort to Sean. Steve punched David, giving him a shiner, and David sort of just sat down, holding his eye.
Steve said, “I gave you what for. Now you go home.”
And David said, “Man, you punched me in the eye.”
And Steve said, “I know. I’m not blind.”
And David said, “You oughta be.”
And Sean said, “I’m going home to get my mace with the spikes on it. Wait here.”
And thirty minutes later, Sean showed up with his mace. But it was too late. No one was around to see what he had that would make him the go-to guy for a medieval weapons cache. Two minutes later, Sean’s shiner would be self-inflicted from the mace and he wouldn’t have 5 dollars for sunglasses.
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Main Squeeze Rehearsal
photo by Hai Zhang I rehearsed last night with the Main Squeeze Orchestra. I’d never seen them before, only heard about them. When I moved to NYC, I asked around about accordion repair shops and Walter Kuhr’s Main Squeeze came up. I never went to his shop, opting for Alex’s accordion repair shop in Times Square.
Then, I heard that he’d started an accordion orchestra, an all-female orchestra. I thought that was a cool idea but still had never gone to see them. Until last night when my directions brought me to a classroom tucked away near Chinatown to the 13 ladies with accordions led by Walter at the front.
I felt shy for some reason. I think it was because it was a classroom, but who knows. So, I quietly went to the back of the room and sat as they rehearsed the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5. As I listened, I thought, this man is brilliant. 13 women playing Bach may seem too much of a novelty in theory but to see and hear it is beautiful. Different women with different accordions. Small accordions. Bass accordions. The Main Squeeze accordions that Walter had built. What heaven this man must face each week.
The next piece was “Bohemian Rhapsody”. I sang from the back for I was still feeling the shy. I felt like a choir boy singing with them. And when it was over, Walter pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a tear. What a lucky man.
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Recording
I recorded last night. It’s been a while. Two other bands have been recording at the same studio so I had to find holes in the studio’s schedule since those bands are better at planning ahead than I am.
I laid down a banjo track on Thank You. I’m terrible on banjo. And my banjo kept going out of tune. But it worked out. Then, Dave put a bass track on Old Man. I had a Reason track laid down already but wanted it to be a real bass. We did two tracks of the bass to be panned in both speakers. But then scrapped it. We’ll redo the bass on Thursday.
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The Relevancy of Time to the Time Clock at Work
Two guys walk into a showroom. One guy has construction helmet on, the other guy has a headpiece on just like Batman’s. The helmeted fellow is eating a twinkie and the batman has a 99c bag of Doritos. The showroom is full of office furniture and they both want a desk. The helmeted guy takes a rubber mallet and starts hammering on one desk. The batman guy takes a ball peen hammer and starts hammering on the other. After 20 seconds of doing so, a salesman walks briskly towards the helmeted guy and says “Stop. Please, sir. Stop.” He walks to the batman and says the same exact thing. The two guys look at each other and continue banging. The salesman walks back into the office and comes out with two other salesman who start yelling at the two bangers to stop. When this doesn’t work, one of the stockers holds a lighter to a fire sprinkler because he feels he has a reason to create disorder. The showroom becomes wet and three fire trucks pull into the parking lot and the stocker man with the lighter goes into the break room and grabs three boxes of pizza because it’s Pizza Friday and disappears into the back where he is picked up by batman and the helmeted guy and they go to the house where batman has a new Xbox, set up with 3 new games and they all eat pizza and laugh and drink Coca Cola. The end.
Epilogue: The batman fellow’s name is Pat and the construction helmet fellow’s name is Mason. The stocker’s name is Phil. They all agree that the new Batman is really good but love Michael Keaton. They also agree that Papa John’s is really good pizza but not as good as the J and J’s. Pat can take any topping he can think of to J and J’s and they will put it on his pizza. He once brought some necco wafers to be put on his pizza and was sure that it would be good but he was wrong. Phil dated a girl who liked anchovies and wanted some but the grocery store didn’t have any and neither did the pizza place so he bought some sardines and marinated them in salt and oil but she didn’t like it, so he stopped trying. It might mean he didn’t really love her and it’s a good thing that they broke up. Now, a month ago, Mason started playing Resident Evil 4 and was amazed at the amount of time that went by during play. He felt like everyone around him aged faster than he did because of how fast time seemed to pass during the game. He was almost right because of his own mass. Meanwhile, the salesman who didn’t know what had happened after the incident lives alone and watches Office Space once a week. Sometimes twice. His name is also Phil but goes by Philip. He doesn’t eat pizza much but enjoys cereal. He has a Reservoir Dogs poster behind his couch and that’s all he has that isn’t functional. He feels the monotony of his life is diverted by going to Walmart instead of Kroger for his groceries. He also lies on the floor for hours not doing anything. He can do 100 situps a day. He can do 100 pushups a day. But, what he doesn’t do is think up stupid ways to annoy other working people by dressing up like an idiot and pounding on office furniture in order to get free pizza. He will be at the apartment complex’s fitness center at 4:00 today in hopes of hooking up. His relation to time is relative to Mason’s.
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Not Stormy Enough
When the plot to overthrow the makings of a giant windstorm plan failed, Mitchell found a loophole that involved going back to the storeroom and getting the copperwire set aside for making penny yarn and weaving it in and out of the sheet metal thunder clapper. When the art director saw him and began his mother hen line of questioning, Mitchell replied that it was a union thing. Not being in the union, Mitchell knew that this would: a) uphold his denial of sabotage, b) allow him to give the union more overtime in taking the copper wire out at a later date and c) a thank you beer for the overtime.
On Sunday, the Senate gave audience to the presentation of the Windstorm Finale, designed to be a “Who? Not Us” weapon which was still in the planning stages. Subsequently, when the time came to show the rattling of the sheet metal in order to create fake thunder, the dull bangs of the copperwire were congruous with the dull satisfaction of the Senate. Later that day, Mitchell thought, “Haha. “Everyone is stupid but me,” as he drank his free Miller High Life alone.
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John Titor Fan Fiction: The Accidental Nap
John Titor’s machine was gravity based and would allow him to travel back to the time he needed to go. However, one day while “rewinding” (he was trying to watch someone type in a password into the IBM he was about to obtain 10 minutes into the future) a black hole shot an anti- ray right onto his machine (like a reverse disco ball) thus disabling the Gravity Sensor Unit and throwing him sideways onto another timestrip that was a phantom strip but one that kept going, like a fart that never leaves.
Anyhoo, he found himself in the year 1999 and was giggling over the y2k hype, not knowing he was on a phantom timestrip. “The sky will be falling from now on,” he thought and went to an internet café and tried to log onto his email account but kept failing.
Finally, he went to the administrator behind the counter.
“My computer isn’t working.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I can’t get any pages to come up.”
So, he walked over with John and asked for the page.
“It’s just yahoo.”
“Don’t know it,” and typed “iii.yahoo.go” and the yahoo page came up.
John then realized he was on the wrong time strip and asked, “What do you guys call the problem about the double-digit numbers turning over to 1900 instead of 2000?”
“What problem? We don’t have a-“
And then everything around him started disappearing like a fog clearing and he knew that the phantom time had finally dissipated. He’d never been in the absence of time and began to take a nap because a physicist had once written, “A true nap can only be perfect when there is no time to be wasted and none to worry.”
And he napped in no time. But it seemed like forever.
Meanwhile, in another time, a physicist had written the word “crap” and then accidentally typed “nap”.
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A CD from a Tapas Restaurant
Two guys walk by a guy who is building a fort out of toothpicks and is in the stage of finding something small enough to enjoy the fort. One guy says, “Hey, why is taking Mo so long to make a cd?” The other guy says, “Because he can’t find an animal willing to enjoy his newly varnished fort.”
I can send you free is a cd compilation that I received to promote a show that started with my bass player saying,
“Hey Mo, this guy wants us to play at his restaurant and will feed us and pay us. It’s on a Monday and they want to make a cd of the bands playing just to promote the shows.”
“ok”
The Saturday before the show I was walking in the neighborhood of the venue and looked inside. It was a tapas restaurant which was good because I began looking forward to my free tapas dinner but there was nowhere to set up, no p.a., nothing. My ominous feeling about this gig was simultaneously felt by my bass player who called me within the half hour and said,
“Hey Mo, I have a weird feeling about playing at this restaurant. I want to go by and check it out.”
“Hey, I’m pretty close to it and I have the same feelings.”
We met the owner at the restaurant and told him who we were. He looked panicked since this will be the whole band, rocking very close to people eating dinner.
“We can move this table.” But, the table’s not the problem. The whole thing is the problem. So, I offer to cancel it as a misunderstanding. The band the previous week had to stop because customers were leaving. This situation was not far from Hedwig’s seafood restaurant tour and cancelling would be in the best interest of everyone. But the owner was looking for rainbows in an exploding toilet.
“No, I would like you to play. How about if you come and if it is too loud then you stop and still get paid and eat.”
I’m all for that but I know its going to be a pain for everyone else.
The situation was finally remedied at 4pm on Monday and it was agreed that I would do the show by myself. I shit you not when I tell you that it was too loud even with me unamplified. No mics, no amplifiers. Just me, my accordion, and my casio piano’s tiny speakers. The dudes who signed the Arctic Monkeys showed up and I just shook my head thinking, You came to this one. But I enjoyed myself because it was so quiet and will do it again in such manner someday.
You can have a souvenir of this debacle. Free. It’s just a compilation of latin rock bands and me. I should have recorded the performance but I didn’t. I’ll mail you one or give you one somewhere. And I will continue working on my new cd of songs. cornmo@hotmail.com