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Posted (edited)

fill in the blanks:

From Jim Alfredson's diary:

I hate _____ because he's the worst goddamned jazz critic on the planet, and his wife looks like _____ . On top of that, his son is addicted to _______ and sleeps with ________ . And his daughter smells like ______.

Even worse is the club I played at last week, ______. The owner is full of _____ and the bathrooms smell like _____. The waitresses all used to work at _______ and so the service is about as efficient as _______. I'd rather play in a _____. At least than I might get ____ and maybe have ____ once in a while.

Last summer we played at the _____ Jazz Festival. It was about as exciting an event as _______, because the director, ______, always books _____ as the opening act. Stupid director, she should book Allen Lowe and his ______. Everyone knows that Allen Lowe is ________. At least that's what HE tells everyone.

In conclusion, I am sick of the whole jazz world, and mostly because of ________, who knows as much about music as a pile of ________. Next time I see him, I am going to take a ______ on his head and a _____ on his leg. Maybe that will teach him to keep his ______ out of my _______.

Edited by AllenLowe
Posted (edited)

I hate Stanley Crouch because he's the worst goddamned jazz critic on the planet, and his wife looks like she'd rather be married to a horned-toad. On top of that, his son is addicted to MAD magazine and sleeps with his purple Prince doll. And his daughter smells like his son.

Even worse is the club I played at last week, Chez Stadium. The owner is full of himself, and at 350 lbs, that's quite an accomplishment and the bathrooms smell like his son. The waitresses all used to work at this brothel firm called Dewey, Bendham, and Howe and so the service is about as efficient as the Rangers starting pitching. I'd rather play in a pigpen; at least there, the food is only three days old. At least than I might get a spellchecker, because then I would know that I should've used THEN instead of THAN and maybe have time to actually get a life, instead of playing spellchecker to everyone's grammar once in a while.

Last summer we played at the Arlington TX Jazz Festival. It was about as exciting an event as reading one of GoodSpeak's posts, because the director, ol' what's-his-name, always books Styx as the opening act. Stupid director, she should book Allen Lowe and his Trane'd Devlin Sousaphone Octet. Everyone knows that Allen Lowe is almost as big an asshole as Big Al. At least that's what HE tells everyone.

In conclusion, I am sick of the whole jazz world, and mostly because of Osama Bin Laden, who knows as much about music as a pile of Edsels. Next time I see him, I am going to take a promenade on his head and a doe-si-doe on his leg. Maybe that will teach him to keep his rat-infested harem out of my record collection, especially my limited edition Aldo Nova white-label autographed promo debut LP, which I swiped from Uncle Skid one night while he was out hunting the elusive lost JOHN Curulewski solo album.

[Edited for fear of having my charter membership in the Styx Fans For Life Club revoked]

Edited by Big Al

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