My Black Dog

I get depressed this time of year, always have.

Maybe it's the approaching holidays, or the way the sky gets darker earlier and completely pulls the rug out from under the day.  Maybe it's the way the World Series preempts my regularly scheduled viewing, or the realization that another year is coming to an end.  

Whatever it is, it's here.  I can feel it. 

I'm going to busy myself with projects, maybe write my way out of it.  I'll make plans with friends.  Being perky is so much easier when other people are around.   Left to my own devices, I can go the whole weekend without talking to anyone. 

On Thursday, I came home from work and played this record while I made dinner:

 

 

It's a lot harder to be depressed when The Happy Harts are singing "Who Threw the Overalls in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder?"



When the dishes were done, I spent some time with Lord Buckley.  You know Lord Buckley.  The hippest, jive-talkin'-est hepcat of American stand-up. 


Hiparama of The Classics (City Light Books, 1980)

Buckley's shtick was delivering famous monologues (the Gettysburg Address, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar) and short biographical sketches.  In Buckleyspeak, "fourscore and seven years ago" becomes "four big hits and seven licks ago, our before Daddies swung forth upon this sweet groovy land, a jumpin', swingin', stompin', wailin', NEW NATION."

 

His routines about Gandhi ("The Hip Gan")and Jesus ("The Naz") were no less boppy and boisterous. 

 

You really need to hear it to appreciate it.