[Dixielandjazz] Fw: Gig Haikus

[Rob McCallum]

Hello all,

Hopefully these will be good for a morning chuckle or two.

All the best,
Rob McCallum

----- Original Message ----- 
From: David Wickham <wick1507@wwnet.com>
To: <lucy_rodriguez@peoplesoft.com>; Rob McCallum <rakmccallum@hotmail.com>
Sent: Thursday, December 19, 2002 8:21 AM
Subject: Fw: Gig Haikus


> > Gig Haikus
> > ============================
> > ============================
> >         Squeaking and squawking
> >      All eyes roll to the heavens
> >         The clarinet speaks
> > ============================
> >        One beat to change from
> >     Harmon to cup to bucket
> >       Hey, who wrote this s**t?
> > ============================
> >         The jam session starts
> >         Somebody calls "Giant Steps"
> >         Cold fear grips my brain
> > ============================
> >         Here's the girl singer
> >         Stepping to the microphone
> >         Pitch, Time, All gone now
> > ============================
> >         Gig is going well
> >         Some jerk requests "In the Mood"
> >         I look at my watch
> > ============================
> >         I once had a dream
> >         Big house, new car, big money
> >         Now I play the bass
> > ============================
> >       Gorgeous chick tells me
> >         "You sound just like Kenny G"
> >         My ego shatters
> > ============================
> >         Three-eight, eleven-eight
> >         Damn you Andrew Lloyd Webber
> >       Five-eight, seven-eight
> > ============================
> >         The woodwind doubler
> >       Practicing the piccolo
> >         Frustration defined
> > ============================
> >         Pit orchestra gig
> >         Days and nights become as one
> >         I have no damned life
> > ============================
> >         Bad intonation
> >         Strings are sharp and reeds are flat
> >         Brass too loud again
> > ============================
> >         Great changes, good groove
> >       A one-in-a-million gig
> >         No singer. Yippee!
> > ============================
> >         An oxymoron:
> >         "He played the accordion
> >         With delicacy"
> > ============================
> >         The accordion
> >         "Squeeze box," yes, but more often
> >         "The Stomach Steinway"
> > ============================
> >         Bassoons forever
> >         Try in vain not to sound like
> >         A farting bedpost
> > ============================
> >         The strings slowly tune
> >      When they're done the unisons
> >         Are anything but
> > ============================
> >         "I can't find my note"
> >         Bemoans the confused singer
> >         Quit now," we all pray
> > ============================
> >         The contractor calls
> >         Months of Andrew Lloyd Webber
> >         "Bird Lives" no longer
> > ============================
> > ============================
> >         Money's everything
> >         Playing any gig that comes
> >         Whores, we are all whores
> > ============================
> > ============================
> > 
> >      That plate of hors d'oeuvres
> >      Cost more than we're getting paid
> >      Think we underbid?
> > ============================
> > ============================
> > 
> >     Break time is over
> >     Rest of band is returning
> >     Now for that phone call
> > ============================
> > ============================
> > 
> >     Rock drummer, lounge keys
> >     Classically trained singer
> >     Welcome to sub hell
> > ============================
> > ============================
> > 
> >     God bless trust fund gigs
> >     Only have to eat ramen
> >     For a few more weeks
> > ============================
> > ============================
> > 
> >     My drummer helped me
> >     Count the syllables
> > ============================
> > 
> > 
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>