I went to an open mic to try out a new song. It was the typical He-Man Woman's Haters Club, not a female in sight. When a woman does walk into the bar she practically gets a standing ovation.
But on this night there seemed to be a bunch of guys who showed up for the free hotdogs. I sat down and ordered a beer. I was babying it. I don't like to drink too much before I get up. I've made that mistake before. A barrel chested fellow sang a song about tits and ass. He kept repeating tits and ass over and over again. Tits... and ass. Then he'd break into the chorus. "What ever happened to songs about pussy?" A smile came to my face. It made me laugh.
It was my turn to sing. The room was restless. People were stirring about while I was plugging in. I'd lost them before I had a chance to play a note. I blew into my harmonica, and the audience came back briefly. I got through the first song. I flubbed some words at the end, but nobody seemed to notice. A guy with a round belly started to talk to me between songs. "You kind of sound like Bob Dylan. You're Irish right? Yeah, I can tell you're Irish."
But on this night there seemed to be a bunch of guys who showed up for the free hotdogs. I sat down and ordered a beer. I was babying it. I don't like to drink too much before I get up. I've made that mistake before. A barrel chested fellow sang a song about tits and ass. He kept repeating tits and ass over and over again. Tits... and ass. Then he'd break into the chorus. "What ever happened to songs about pussy?" A smile came to my face. It made me laugh.
It was my turn to sing. The room was restless. People were stirring about while I was plugging in. I'd lost them before I had a chance to play a note. I blew into my harmonica, and the audience came back briefly. I got through the first song. I flubbed some words at the end, but nobody seemed to notice. A guy with a round belly started to talk to me between songs. "You kind of sound like Bob Dylan. You're Irish right? Yeah, I can tell you're Irish."
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