Throughout the years, I’ve collected a huge assortment (ok, not fanatically or insanely huge, but relatively big… dozens?) of tshirts.  They started out as shirts I thought were cool (black with a big yellow batman logo) or my first concert (RollingStones Steel Wheel Tour).  Then entering the professional workforce, I, like many of you, was plied with shirts (tshirts, denim, etc) in a futile effort to improve my morale (I took them, but don’t think I’m that easily bought off).

 I am genetically predisposed to packrattery and it’s only through the constant efforts of my wife that our house isn’t overcome with incredibly useful things we MIGHT need in the future.  Well, tshirts are one of those things I still squirrel away.  Luckily, she doesn’t read this or I’d have to find a better hiding place.

Unfortunately, the tshirts fall into 2 categories: shrunk, meaningless project references or just too weird to wear publically.  Finally, a friend has found a great use for them.  Creating a blanket or “throw” out of those would be a nice addition to my home office (the one place I’m free to hide away all those good things I MIGHT need in the future).

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• An amazing monkey story

While I’ve been known to listen to some bluegrass, I’ve never owned a monkey, nor read anything that gave me such insight into the life of a bluegrass artist.  I don’t know Purvis Jackson, but I think I would have liked to.  And I don’t know if the following story is true.  I don’t care.

From the BlueGrass Australia site, I give you:

Purvis Jackson’s famous monkey story

Purvis Mount Jackson, has a fine way with words. He’s a well-known character and picker around the Bluegrass Heartland, and in 1996, totally out of the blue, he posted this story on the mailing list BGRASS-L

—–Original Message—–
From: Purvis Jackson
Sent: Thursday, December 05, 1996 9:35 AM
Subject: Banging Tapscott

Y’all oughta quit beating up on Ole Bangs so much. He’s a purty good old boy, just a might crotchety now and again. But you gotta admit it’s right nice to read something with a little intelligence and humor woven into it every now and again. What with all this gushing that goes on here, Ole Bangs’s sniping and whining is a refreshing departure. I’ll tell you what I told you I’d tell you about how it all reminds me of something that happened a long time ago in another place where I used to live. See, this one’s about a locale and, among other things, a dog with a musical reference.

During my last two years of high school, I lived with one of my sisters and her family. Her youngest daughter — she had two — decided she wanted a pet monkey for her birthday one year. Try as she may, my sister was unable to dissuade the child, and the more she tried, the more adamant the child became. She overruled my sister’s objection that a monkey wasn’t a typical pet by pointing out that we had at that time an assortment of untypical pets — a kid goat, a pitt bull, a parrot, a raccoon, a squirrel, a fox, and a Manchester Chihuahua mix, all of which lived with us in an untypical house fashioned from an old army quonset hut — and that none of those pets were hers. (more…)

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