Thursday, August 23, 2012

Bitter Tears and Blackout Diaries!


Well, that was fun, but it was also sad.  Good ole Rhea Butcher did her swansong at Cole’s last night and everybody had a swell time. 

Rhea later told Foz that she’d never had a theme song before – FtH always played her up with a bad-and-wrong rendition of Henry Mancini's Peter Gunn Theme – and I must confess to tearing-up a bit at the knowledge that I had the privilege of playing such a solemn and pleasurable role in a young lady blooming from the innocent blush of girlhood to full womanhood.   What comedian doesn’t remember the thrill of her first theme song?  Years hence will she turn silently from her adoring fans – for just a moment – and let her mind race back to that thrilling first experience under the gentle hands of an older Olde Foz (and Patrick and Larry)?  Will a fragile tear course down her sweet face even as her shiny new L.A. backup band pauses and reverently permits her mind to take her back to that first-and-forever experience when the windows blew open, the drapes snapped in the breeze and the maniacal railings of faux-brass and kazoos wafted in on the warm Chicago evening air?  We can only hope so.

But time waits for no one, little Fozlings.  This Saturday evening, your new favorite country music singer, Colonel Foz, will return to Blackout Diaries with Sean Flannery.  This is episode 17 of the amazing monthly recitation of the crimes and humiliations that result from our love-love relationship with our first love, sweet sweet booze.  Who will be on the bill besides Good Old Sean and Your Pard, Colonel Foz?  Only the incredible Mikey Manker; the unbelievable Candy Lawrence; the irreproachable Anne Root; the unattainable Puterbaughz; and the incomparable Matteo Lane!  Tickets cost $10.  Get them from This Guy.  Buy early!  Stay late!  $2 Blatz!  Don’t make me explain why that’s a great deal.  Just get to The Beat Kitchen on Saturday night at about 9, and begin this month’s adventures in blackout!

See you there!  Well, not actually, we’ll all be pretty blind drunk.  $2 Blatz!

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