Volume 6 – #6 – June 2003

Oh, it’s summertime, 2003. In Denton, Texas, the days are hot and humid. Some people go to the crowded beaches or crowded public pools. Some people line up in a parking lot to buy snow cones out of a little shed. But the little shed has an air conditioner. That interests me; a little one-room building with a window unit air conditioner. I imagine someone hanging out in there, protected from the oppressive heat and blinding sunlight, waiting for that next snow cone buyer to show up. I would put a nice lamp in there. And a table with some magazines on it. And a police scanner. And a coat rack. And I would carpet it wall-to-wall. Oh yeah, I guess I would have to find space for all the snow cone making stuff; syrup and ice. And I guess I could offer other appropriate treats; pickles and rice or a dried vegetable medley with ketchup flavored potato chips. And I could sell masks; really, really scary masks. And I could introduce new snow cone concepts, like giving rubber gloves to patrons and they could just scoop out the flavored ice and eat over a communal trough. Maybe that could be the flavor of the day. And it would be spiked with alcohol. No one under 21 allowed near the trough, of course. Maybe I could flood the parking lot every now and then and all the kids would show up and splash around and buy snow cones. Maybe I could change the theme occasionally. You know, make the little shed look like a castle one week, a covered wagon the next, an igloo disco the next, a gopher hole the next. It would keep ’em guessing. But the snow cones would always be the same; top notch. I would use the best quality flavors, the finest diamond-perfect ice and I would incorporate subtle hypnotic techniques to lure patrons back day after day. I would make my world look so attractive that people would swarm around just for a peek. And they would be honored that I would allow them to buy my unique, addictive snow cones or pickles or whatever. But not addictive in a bad way. More like the snow cones are symbols of a stubborn hope that you refuse to abandon. There’s optimism of a better tomorrow in every squirt of the syrup. I bet some puppy mill, back yard breeder freaks might want to set up next to me, but I’ll give free snow cones to PETA members and that should take care of that. I would have to give my business a name. There’s a snow cone stand near my house that used to be called “Grandpa’s.” I imagined that Grandpa was a lonely retired man trying to make some money. But it’s called something different now. I could call it “Carl’s Cones of Delicious Snowy Ice. Or maybe, “Not Hawaiian Shave Ice (Did you know that true Hawaiian shave ice has kidney beans in the bottom of the cone?)”, or maybe something simple, like “Snow Cone Stand.” I could make the letters colorful. No matter what, it sounds like fun, especially in a thunderstorm. Of course I would build a storm cellar under the snow cone stand. And that cellar would be like a king’s palace and it’s where the bathrooms would be. I could have a huge recording studio at the very bottom with an engineer ready to go 24 hours a day. I don’t know what it is. I just really like that little controlled environment. Sometimes I see Fed-X stands or little burrito stands and I think, “Hmmm….” When I was a kid my father built a miniature house in the backyard for me and my brother to play in. We called it the play house. My brother wanted to be a radio DJ and he rigged up some stuff and ran some wire and would broadcast a radio show into the main house. That’s a true story. And the kidney beans story is true, too. Sometimes I can remember being a kid. We were a thrill-seeking family. We would gather around the television and watch “The Flintstones” and eat snacks. When I would go to bed I listened to my transistor radio in the dark. Talk about symbols of hope. That transistor radio represented a bigger world; a world of fun and adventure and variety. And there was no irony at all. Only a few people were trying to be cool in those days. Rock and pop stars were exotic alien beings coming to Earth to show us alternate realities. No one buys into that anymore. Rock stars are just like Wall Street investors; movers and shakers and clever deal makers. Maybe it’s always been just about fame. Reality TV can make anyone famous for being nothing special, cause it’s fun to pretend and have all your friends watch. And, although this story has a sad ending, it’s the only ending that was ever possible. Evolution includes all things. Accept it and move on.

Speaking of acceptance, you really should check out our performance itinerary for the next few months. Time marches on and so does Brave Combo. We will probably be near you or at least a close family member you can go visit. Think and imagine the possibilities. Swing and sway with Danny O’Brien. Get smooth and debonair with Bubba. Let Jeffrey Barnes help you find that surreal can be gritty too. Watch Alan hit the drums with wooden sticks. And I’ll put my needs before yours and hope you find it entertaining. Here’s the deal. It’s party time. So get serious.

My Protestant Hymn medley is finished. It’s about seventeen minutes long and features the ungodly, or rather heavenly voice of Daphne Gere. More about this as I figure out what to do with it.

I have also just completed the theme song for a new PBS kid’s show called BARK PARK PLACE. Some actual kids came into the studio to yell and clap. They did both very well. The show, produced out of Kansas City’s KCPT will be hosted by Wally Amos (Famous Amos, the cookie guy).

There is a popular Japanese cartoon show called DRAGONBALL and there is a new DRAGONBALL movie. And a song from our CD, BOX OF GHOSTS, will be heard in the movie. The contracts have been signed. More on this later.

So, I guess the bottom line (July 16) is that it’s time to make your mark. Be the next big thing in your head. It usually works for me. I also must enjoy embarrassing situations. Look out world. A new day is dawning and everyone’s invited to watch the sunrise. That’s when I close the curtain at the motel and turn off the light and go to sleep. Do Not Disturb. Pleasant dreams.