My hometown is the small, isolated, desert farm village of Blythe, California. Even though people from Blythe (like me) have a reputation for being unsophisticated and unsmart, I still keep in touch with the family back home and visit Blythe every once in a while when my Aunt Mable is on parole.
Hey, I received a letter from Aunt Mable just yesterday. She wrote…
[Aunt Mable still thinks that old Blythe farm song, “Duck of Earl”, was about me.]
Well, it’s been a cold winter here in Blythe. Some nights got down below 80 degrease. Good thing global warming is coming back again this summer cause we’re jest about outta hand-warmers. I don’t rightly know if hand-warmer is the aficial name but … you know … it’s those little plastic bags you use to pick up really fresh puppy poop.
Yore Unkel Jethro is takin a cooking class at the University of Blythe and Desert-United-Mountains (U.B. DUM). He just learned how to make parcheesi, which is a style a cooking that includes golf and dairy. Maybe that’ll help him git a job cookin at the Kountry Klub. Ya member the golf corse, don’t ya? It’s up there on the desert mesa outside a town where it’s so dry they call the greens the browns. Shoot, it’s so dry, the trees are going to the dogs. And its so darn hot up ther, the Native Americans gave up wearing blankets. Now they just wear sheets.
Well … hope you are okay in the big city of Lost Angels. I better sign off for now cause Jethro wants to go to a Pole dance. I guess that’s in Warsaw.
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Way back about a hundred years ago, when I was a rock ‘n’ roll radio DJ (I started my career during the days of silent radio) a song I wrote ended up on the flip side of a record that made the Billboard charts. I never tried again to sell another song. Heck, I don’t even know how to sell a song.
So far in my life I’ve had literary agents, a voice-over agent, an acting agent, and a screenwriter agent. But I’ve never had a songwriter agent. I don’t even know if such a thing exists. I’ve written a lot of songs over the decades. Most of them come out country. Probably because I’m from Blythe. I’ve never played my songs for anyone, nor ever tried to sell them, so I don’t know if my music is maybe good stuff or maybe just random debris from a Blythe escapee.
I don’t personally know most of the several thousand folks who subscribe to my posts, but, I believe there are music industry professionals among them. If you are one of those … or if you know someone who knows someone … please listen to the piano and voice demo of one of my songs— Daughter of a Preacherman © 2013-Earl Trout by clicking on the link below.
By the way, I’m a religious guy and I’ve also written some Christian tunes but… the lyrics to Daughter of a Preacherman are a bit risqué. So… be forewarned.
Hey, if you like the song … please send me an email that will make me rich.
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Last month about a dozen radical liberal leftists got angry with me after reading my post, “Walls”. At least, I assume you were angry. Don’t know why else you’d take the time to email me foul language and name calling. It puzzled me, because I absolutely agree with you that what’s happening on our southern border is a manufactured crisis. Those hundreds of thousands of people illegally sneaking into our country are, indeed, a crisis. And that crisis was manufactured by … radical liberal leftists. Because you ignore our laws and encourage others to do the same. That is an ugly truth.
Personally, when I encounter an ugly truth, I find out who caused it and delete that person or persons from my life. But, you radlibs just keep voting for the same “leaders” who caused the crisis. And, I don’t understand why you get mad at truth. However, one of my favorite characters knew why…
“You can’t handle the truth!”
—Colonel Nathan Roy Jessup
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