Y’all remember this?
Perhaps you don’t know what dulcet joys you are missing? Or I could serenade you with my 1910 satin silver Conn tenor to the tones of Love Supreme by Coltrane?
All of it?
Why do I now feel I might be uncomfortable with the answer?
I’d like to ask you a series of questions: question number nine, are you prone to having blackouts?
Did you take time out of your workday to investigate that issue in depth?
Should he provide more penetrating analysis?
Did you know I’m a secret hurdy-gurdy fan?
Guess it’s not so secret anymore, huh?
Why would you need to hide that?
Do you have teenagers?
Does it look like my etchings?
Why is the first question number nine?
…
Are you prone to having blackouts?
So… I’ll put you down for ‘maybe’?
(And would you prefer soup or salad?)
Has anyone else ever wanted to say, “I’ll take the ‘souper’ salad”, or is that just me?
It ain’t me? It ain’t me? I ain’t no fortunate son, no?
Do you even need to ask?