Spitball Army

A rare visit today to the Birmingham Barnes & Noble (by virtue of being near my doctor’s office) was cut short due to the introduction of St. Paul and the Broken Bones on their sound system. I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. I swear, that belly-flopper of a lead vocalist wants to be Sharon Jones so very badly, but only succeeds in sounding as if a boa constrictor is tightening its grip around his throat, while stealing the spotlight away from the very talented musicians in the band. This was all preceded by a toupeed wise-acre approaching the woman working in the music department while the new-ish Leon Russell CD was playing. “Who is that singing?” he asked her. She had no idea, and said so. “Sounds like Charlie Rangel!” he spouted, followed by a “Ha ha ha!” at his own joke. “Ha ha ha, Charlie Rangel, ha ha ha!” He was getting louder. “Ha! Mr. President, this is Charlie Rangel calling! I’m in a New York state of mind!” he quipped, mimicking the New York congressman’s well-known rasp while quoting the song playing overhead. “You know who Charlie Rangel is, don’t you? Ha ha ha,” he asked her. “Er, no, but would you like me to find out who IS singing this song?” “No, no, ha ha, I wouldn’t buy it anyway,” he said, and turned and walked away. A textbook example of the worst kind of retail shopper: eat up the staff’s time and energy and don’t buy a damn thing – or worse, go home and buy it on the internet. At that moment, the St. Paul singer began screeching. I grabbed my Roz Chast book and dashed to the checkout for a quick getaway. Then, in the truck, and perhaps ironically, there were Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings singing that “People Don’t Get What They Deserve,” as I headed out of the lot and northward on Highway 280.