so there I am sitting at the bar sipping on an El Tesoro staring at the TV wondering why on earth Trent Lott would be in such a danged hurry to leave the senate ( it can't be because his brother-in-law and his nephew have  just been indicted for bribery, that's small fry for these boys). No, when CNN mentioned as an afterthought that the law concerning members of Congress becoming lobbyists will become much stricter come January 1st, it all made sense. Hell his term ain't up for something like six years. But don't it speak volumes about the rats leaving the sinking ship of state that is the Bush White House. Not that I have anything against rats, in certain cartoons they are pretty good cooks...
      Anyways, it's the last Tuesday of the month, so I took the subway to my favorite subterranean bar to substantiate a rumor about a substitute manner with which to fill the evening. What I found quite subtle and sublime. A whole world of music, well maybe a subcontinent: Rose Polenzni's Sub Rosa.
   The Session Americanians were there. The Champenois too.  I think I heard the sound of doom...it was  Rose singing with a saxophone quartet. And boom I was dead on the spot. She sang with with Aoife O'donovan and 'interviewed' Calley Lipton about secrets, lies and how to part your hair like that. Yes it was all over the map. Feist made an appearance as Jennifer Kimball for a couple of songs, or was it the other way around? And then there was the seven hushabye baby's singer. I don't even know her name but it don't matter 'cuz I know what I am doing on the last Tuesday this month. Do You?
Now on the previous Tuesday I stumbled down those same dimly lit stairs to find a house packed. This was the day before the day before Thanksgiving, or as we call it at work: what wine goes with turkey eve. And yes the session boys were there, booked for a couple of sets.
   Milton Berle kicked thing off. I was so suprisised, my enthusiasm got the better of my harmonica. It was bleating like a lost lamb looking for little Bo Peep all the way through She Thinks I Still Care. But then Ry got to jam with Mr. Ohu and Joe Sieders, who was working overtime to keep the raspberry beret from sliding off during the drum breaks...Dinty and I sang an old Sandman tune together. It was pretty smooth until a spinout at the end, but that always happens the first time it snows. Sam Bigelow hit the piano like a hurricane on Hey Pocky Way. And when Dan Fram picked the fiddle he and Sean had the ladies sailing away...but for a strange sound coming from the pump organ. Oh that's  just Dinty warming up for the next song! Har har har... But seriously I can't wait until January when I know where I will be every Tuesday night...