Monday, June 27, 2011

Never Could Stand That Dog...

His wife was a spent piece of used jet trash
Made good bloody-marys, kept her mouth
shut most of the time, had a little Chihuahua
named Carlos that had some kind of skin
disease and was totally blind.

Picked up a couple of Mickey's Big Mouths the other day. Our local Tesco/Samsung supermarket tends towards the heavily advertised or toally random when it comes to foreign beer. I probably wouldn't have looked twice at them except for the Tom Waits line:

One night Frank was on his way home
from work, stopped at the liquor store,
picked up a couple of Mickey's Big Mouths.
Drank 'em in the car on his way to the
Shell station; he got a gallon of gas in a can.

I now feel one step closer to a personal hero. I always kinda wondered why he called them 'Big Mouths'. Now I know. I've also discovered what malt liquor is: cheap, shitty, slightly strong beer seems to about sum it up. That's the thing about America - you learn something new about it every day, wherever you are in the world, and it's usually something a bit disappointing. But every now and then you discover some diamond in the dung-heaps, like good ol' Tom. He makes the whole place seem worthwhile.

Drove home, doused everything in
the house, torched it.
Parked across the street laughing,
watching it burn, all Halloween
orange and chimney red.

Frank put on a top forty station,

got on the Hollywood Freeway
headed North.

Never could stand that dog.
I can even forgive the way he pronounces chimney with three syllables. Almost.

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