Crappy Cell phone series of the Motor City Madman. Chuck Pace © 2007
Last night was the ear splitting, side splitting, by god gospel of Soul music as delivered by Uncle Ted Nugent, this was the 6th time I have seen The Nuge, and the closest I've ever been to the stage. He had very kind words to say about the military, the freedoms we observe as Americans and his birthplace in Motown. He had a few criticism of the Democratic front runners in the upcoming battle for the next Presidential term. He rocked the house. He is Uncle Ted, that's what he does. "No Sh*t!"
Phil Gibson, Jeff Mongan, Jay Woodworth and I were there with a bunch of Uncle Ted Virgins, namely Jenni, Rich Culy, Jo Mongan, and Rita Morris. Jeff and Jo both caught guitar picks, and Phil had one of the drummer's drum sticks in his hand for a half second before it was grabbed away.
The opening act, Alex Winston, a young female rocker and her band rocked as well and played for almost 45 minutes, then a half hour of roadies and weapon specialists later the ears were assaulted like Anzio Beach when The Nuge went on. The crickets underwater ear treatment from close proximity to Uncle Ted's amps and stacks has lasted through the sleep cycle, and Jenni says "If this is permanent I'm gonna be pissed," pointing to her ears this morning (it's a good thing she pointed, otherwise I might have had to say "Huh?"). Today is in fact the anniversary of my Jenni's birth and we plan on a quiet, calm celebration at home after a brief visit to the Chatterbox this evening. Given the comparison, it is sure to be a quiet evening. Hopefully the whoosh, rush cricket fest will be over by then.
Happy Birthday Jenni, We'll learn sign language together my dear.
WHAT? I'm sorry one more time, What?
Chuck Pace © 2007
|