(A message from one of my favorite singer-songwriters. He is also a published poet and a master of multiple blues guitar styles.)
Dear friends, acquaintances and strangers all,
You're cordially invited to check out the latest musical offering, "Speedballer," by Murfreeboro's most revered compiler of American Tragi-musical crots! The one in question is yet another installment of the Jeannie serial about that bad-eyed, loveless, and karmically depleted composite-girl, who parts the world before her like a Titanic and leaves a tragic wake of chewed-up iceberg innards behind her but miraculously manages to keep on plowing forward, seemingly oblivious but intrinsically aware of the mess (and at times using feigned ignorance as a tool--don't we all?). I haven't let you down. This one has a helping of pot-smoking no-good-doers, a tender touch of sex-for-drugs miscreants, and an ever-so-light basting of honey-smoked regrets. For those of you unfamiliar with the nuances of narco-semiology, "speedballing" refers to a lethal combination of oxycotin (or methadone) and xanax. Not at all a good way to "get your buzz-coat on." I recommend forgoing the narcs and reposing with a Pinot Noir, preferably on your backporch in the spring while your rosy-faced, toe-headed children dig for tiny treasures with tiny spades in your herb garden. Ahh...humans are tragic, but life is good.
Yours truly,
G. Wesley Houp
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