sparquelito
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Days Won
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Posts posted by sparquelito
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No apologies necessary.
Your chapter was sublime, and (come to think of it) all my bits were a form of hijacking something that probably should have been deleted anyway.
I take great pleasure in writing stories and songs, and when inspiration strikes, you have to go with it, no matter where it leads you.
I once woke up with a song in my head, and I wrote it down and recorded immediately (sang it into an iPhone, of all things).
It's a really good song, come to think of it.
Dierdrre agrees, by the way.
:)
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Brilliant!!
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Okay, I'm gonna shut up now.
:(
![[unsure]](//content.invisioncic.com/p286412/emoticons/default_msp_unsure.gif)
[unsure] -
Deidre entered, and paused to greet Sparquelito.
“Hello, Uncle. It’s been far too long.
She kissed him on the cheek, and then turned and faced the Master of the house.
She spoke.
“My Lord, I know ye have a lot on your plate, but here it is plain and simple,” she paused and gulped.
Her eyes were fixed forward on the wall.
“I have an opportunity to better myself, and I would ask your blessing to depart this house, and to attend the University. I have secured a scholarship, and if all goes well, I will in two month’s time, be in studies at the local college, and that will remove me from my duties here, sir.”
She gulped, and continued on.
“I would ask for your support in this endeavor. You have always been so kind and benevolent, and since the passing of me Mum, and most tender and good-hearted in all things large and small. I ask for more of the same, good sir.”
The man was floored.
He blurted, “Of course you have my support, and your leave of this place, though disconcerting to me personally, will pay dividends far beyond our mundane and even selfish routines here at Gibson Forums. Please know that you will go to school with both my blessing and my heartfelt wishes for much success!”
He halted in his speech, and took the time to blot a tear from his eye.
“And you may go forward with this endeavor knowing that we will personally cover all your miscellaneous expenses, such as books, lab fees, and meals.”
The man then directed his gaze at his old friend John.
“And we will be most grateful of you would continue to reside here, and allow all of us in your circle of family to assist in your studies and preparations for exams.”
He continued to stare at Sparquelito.
“It was rumored that your father was quite the academic genius, though a bit of a rogue and a renegade cadet.”
Deidre gave pause.
“My father, sir?”
“Yes, I think it’s time that you came to know who it was that sired you, and who romanced your mother, the chief of staff of the kitchen of this good house, and then who departed so unceremoniously not long after you were born.”
The girl blinked.
“I’m not sure I understand, my Lord. My father, though not one to admit openly his paternity, was very much present in this good house, all the way until his passing just four years ago.”
The man blurted out, “What in blazes are you talking about, girl? Your dad is standing right here in front of you!”
Sparquelito advised, “Steady, old sport. Things aren’t always as they seem.”
Deidre softened her tone.
“I apologize, my Lord. It appears that the entire house has gone out of their way to spare you this disconcerting revelation. But the truth is……”
She took a deep breath, and endeavored to elucidate.
Sparquelito spoke up instead.
“My old friend, Deidre’s father was your father. You and she are brother and sister.”
He coughed. “More like half-brother and half-sister. But whatever the case, she’s not my daughter. Deidre is the offspring of your old dad, the creator of this entire enterprise, and Gertrude, the mistress of the kitchen staff. Everyone knew, including your long-suffering Mum, but they never informed you for fear of harming your lofty opinion of the grand old patriarch.”
He chuckled.
“It was easy money to blame the parenthood on me, considering my reputation for wandering about with the ladies, and my great affection for Deidre’s mum.
The man slumped in his leather chair.
“My God, how could I have been so blind? All the signs were right there in front of my eyes, and I never caught on, never once!”
He swallowed, and then rose to his feet.
“Deidre, come here, girl. And please accept my apologies for my ignorance and my blindness. I have always loved you like my own kin, and here it is that you are very much my own flesh and blood!”
The girl fell into his arms and he embraced her with enormous affection.
He kissed her forehead, and murmured, “And to think I have been operating under the assumption that Uncle John was your real father. And holding him accountable for horrible crimes of negligence, a lack of caring, and cavalier nonchalance. My sweet baby sister!”
He stared into Sparquelito’s eyes.
“John, can you forgive me all this, my old friend?”
“I already have,” exclaimed the dusty wanderer.
“Now, can we alert the kitchen that it’s time for a grand supper? I am getting hungry, and I think that the Gibson Forum staff is more than ready to accommodate a long overdue celebration!”
:lol: :P :o :) 
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The two men chatted amicably, though warily, and eventually enjoyed a lunch of sausage, kippers, brie, and thin, lightweight rice crackers. With a bottle of white wine from the Nahe Valley of Germany.
At one point, the man folded his napkin, enjoyed a swig of the Müller-Thurgau, and then cleared his throat.
“So, there’s just a bit of the website business, and then we must really address the topic of your daughter.”
“What’s on with Gibson Forums? She’s the flagship of the guitar web enterprises, to be certain? What on earth might come about with it that you should make it so that I were dragged here in the boot of a Citroën Bertone Xantia of all things? And after nine years away, no less!”
Sparquelito was clearly agitated, and poured himself another glass of the white.
The man leaned forward, “What is on is that we have had yet another of the cryptic postings that begin with one thing, end with zero content, and then follow with an admonition to simply delete the original thread altogether. It stinks of Moscow, and either the KGB or the Spetsnaz (Russian: спецназ) web interlopers.”
“And so what’s that got to do with me?”
“You spent many years traveling about in and out of Ukraine and Siberia. You know these people. What’s your take on it, John?”
Sparquelito smiled, and helped himself to a daub of brie on a double stack of rice crackers.
“These communion wafers really are quite tasty. Much better than the ones we served to the flock as altar boys back in the mid-1960’s.”
He chomped the lovely mixture, and swilled some more of the wine.
He continued, “Serving Father Walter, as I recall. A lovely man, though overly fond of the Scotch whiskey.”
The man at the oak desk blurted out, “They were all given to the drink, John. As are the two of us, truth be told, to this day! What’s that got to do with the curious web postings, the requests to delete, and the KGB-tainted IP Addresses?”
Sparquelito leaned forward, “Nothing, good and dear friend. My advice is to let it go. Just assume that some sad chap began a fresh web posting with all good intentions, and then changed his mind about it. Do the right thing. Delete it.”
“Can you guarantee that there is nothing untoward going on, nothing that threatens the sanctity and integrity of the Gibson Forums??”
“I can guarantee that much. Yes. Just delete the damned thing, and you may sleep the sleep of the righteous and just web forum owner and chief executive.”
The man sat back and digested the information brought to him by his old school-chum and former web forum partner.
He sighed.
“Right. And so now we must discuss Deidre, and what is to become of her. She really deserves the opportunity to finally learn who it is that………”
At that moment, the girl herself rapped on the heavy door and entered the man’s chamber.
“My Lord, may I have a word?”
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The late morning sun cut through 16th century glass, and illuminated the dust motes on the bookshelves, dancing odd, prism-like shards of colour across the man’s desktop.
The writing paper was most posh, and each sheet of parchment spoke of old money and glaring sun beams on white Egyptian cotton.
He squinted and longed for a brandy drink, but knew that lady of the house kept a close ear to the gossip and the slur and innuendo of the hired help. And he knew just how much they disapproved of his love of the spirits.
“Best to just wait until noon,” he remarked to no one in particular.
He drummed his fingers on the stout oak desk.
Suddenly the door to his chambers burst open with a stout thump, and two rough men entered with a vagabond figure.
The taller of the two men threw the unfortunate fellow harshly onto the floor.
Both employees turned on their heel and began to exit, but the shorter henchman lurched back, picked up the reprobate, and then threw him to the floor yet again.
“Teach you to make a run for it, you scurvy fopdoodle!”
The testy man stood then erect, straightened his cap, and departed the room with his surly partner in tow.
Sparquelito brought himself to his feet, and then righted his top hat and his dusty Inverness jacket with great care.
“How are you, John?” inquired the man at the large oak desk.
“I have been better,” the scuffed-up wanderer offered.
He turned his head slightly then, and contemplated the view out the window.
“But then again, I have been much worse.”
He paused, and then remarked, “I love what you have done with the parade grounds. Yer dad would be proud.”
“Yes. He would be.”
“And the house is in tip-top shape. And the web forum, I hear. Everything in Bristol fashion.”
“Yes.”
“And Diedre. She has grown to be quite the young lady.”
“Yes. John, listen to me, speaking of Diedre, she ought to be afforded the chance to get to know her father. You know?“
“The hell you say.”
“Don’t bandy about with me, old friend. You have been out and about on the Continent long enough. Germany for the past few years, or so I heard, right?”
“Jawohl, mein lieber freund.”
The wanderer then brightened. “Say, speaking of Deutschland, what say we have a bit of this? It’s Asbach Uralt from the Rudesheim bend of the Rhein river. The very best brandy ever.”
He produced a bottle, set it on the man’s desk, and uncorked it.
“Will you join me?”
The master of the house gave with a sigh, and bent over to his lower desk drawer, and produce a stout pair of drinking glasses.
“Okay, I’ll have a drink with you, and then we must get down to business. Do you hear me, John?”
Sparquelito poured an even measure into each glass, and then raised one of them in a toast.
“I hear you, old friend. Here’s to getting down to business.”
Outside, the hounds began to bay, as though some disturbance had arisen on the grounds.
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The girl knocked tentatively at the door, and then rapped just a bit harder.
"Come," was all she heard.
The young maid opened the massive oak door and let herself into her Master's chambers, juggling her tray.
She presented herself to the man with a brief nod, and offered, "Good morning, sir. Your coffee, eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes".
"Just set it there on the corner of my desk, Diedre. I will get to it directly."
She did as directed, and left the silver cover over the breakfast offering, so that it would remain reasonably warm.
He resumed his pensive study of the computer screen.
"Something troubling on this morning, my Lord?" she queried.
"Ah, it's this blasted new thread, entitled, 'Delete'. A new poster began to write something, and then apparently thought the better of it."
"Most vexing, then."
"Yes, indeed."
The man paused to gaze out the window at the dawn arising.
The staff and cadre of Gibson Forum moderators were at their morning exercise, and were about on the vast parade ground, snapping through their calisthenics with military precision.
He smiled. Comforting to know that things were in order at the grand old website, this morning as ever.
She ventured, "Your Dad, he started this web forum, sir. How would he have handled such a thing?"
"The Old Man? Ha, I venture to say that he would have deleted the blasted thing without another thought. But still, there's something about this thread that merits further contemplation."
His finger hovered over the Delete button, gently wavering.
Finally the girl relieved the moment. "Here, sir. Let's just you have your morning meal, and put this off until later. Give it an hour or two to stew in the backdrop. What's the worst that could happen?"
She set about making his tray.
The aroma of rich Columbian coffee and crisp, apple-smoked bacon brought the man out of his reverie, and he smiled.
"Yes. What's the worst that could happen?"
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:mellow: -
NO!!
This thread deserves to live!!
:o
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Hi Gals & Guys,
My Writing Muse hit me late in life. I'm just a retired sofa blues player, not interested in recording myself or thrashing around on stage. Over the past 8-10 months I've been waking up with lyrics in my head that I had to write down to shut her up...
I've got lyrics for 4 songs;
A traditional slow blues tune
An old fashioned folk ballad (true story)
A uptempo humorous song
An easy going laid back song
If interested message or email me. If you hit it big, you can have the fame & glory. I'll take writing credits :)
Thanks, Jenny Jenny
Jenny,
My band and I are in for the uptempo humorous song.
PM me any time.
www.capshawroad.com
We don't care if we make any money off of it (we rarely have ever before) but we would enjoy the challenge and the enjoyment of working on somebody else's songs.
:)
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Man.
When I get home from a gig, there ensues about an hour and a half of putting the gear away, followed by an hour or two of drinking good beers or better whiskey.
If I try to go to bed too soon, I'm wide awake and buzzing all night.
:blink:
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Planning to go motorcycle riding with the wife later on, and catch an early lunch somewhere in town.
Just to tide me over, I had some low-carb goodness for breakfast;
Ham slices wrapped around dill pickle and cheddar cheese, dipped in guacamole ranch dressing.
Good stuff!!
:)
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Crimson And Clover - Tommy James and the Shondells.
:)
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Ever blend 5 raw eggs together and drink it like Rocky did in the movie? I had to do that once to see what it was like, then went to the gym for a serious workout lifting weights. I had a left over slice of homemade pizza for breakfast.
The pizza I can get behind.
The raw egg, eh, not so much!!
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I just diced up a tomato and stirred it together with some sliced celery, ranch dressing, greek dressing, sunflower seeds, shredded cheddar, and black pepper.
Great breakfast salad at 4:45 a.m.!
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Gotta try
A Parker Fly.....
![[thumbup]](//content.invisioncic.com/p286412/emoticons/default_msp_thumbup.gif)
I agree.
A Parker Fly fits all the requirements.
Problem is, in a band that plays mostly country music, it would stick out like a sore thumb.
Unless you go for one of these koa models.
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David Bowie's Let's Dance.
We rocked that one for the first time on stage the other day at a big Christmas gig.
Very fun song to play live, especially when people are dancing and enjoying the groove.
The chords are a little tricky, but once you get used to them, it gets easier and easier.
Nile Rodgers crafted those chords for Bowie while producing the album.
David's original treatment was in some fairly standard B cowboy chords, and Nile didn't think that the song had much punch.
The finished product was much better than the original demo!
:)
This morning I was working on improving my ability to play Stevie Ray Vaughn's signature lead licks from the radio version of Let's Dance.
I'm slowly getting there.
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I have played outdoor gigs (albeit with those tall propane heater dealios going) with temps as low as 45 degrees F.
It's a real challenge keeping the guitars in tune, I guess that's the main thing.
Amplifiers and PA heads are happy in the cold.
Singing is no problem either.
But guitars go out of tune really quickly.
:unsure:
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That year of Gibson Melody Maker can go for over $1,300 in mint condition, and with all-original parts.
That one looks to be in good to very good condition, however, and I do believe that is an after-market bridge.
The seller should probably expect to let it go for right around $700 at the very most, provided that the neck is true, and that all the electrical functions work when it is plugged in.
In my humble opinion.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The above posting is the personal opinion of the poster Sparquelito, and his alone. No connection between his opinions and the Gibson Guitar Corporation and/or the Gibson guitar web forum is implied.
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BB,
I support you in this.
The bottom line is that each player has their own set of preferences, and if you are going to spend top dollar for a great Gibson Les Paul, it ought to be exactly they way you want it.
My own personal preferences would dictate that I never buy a G-force guitar in the first place, since I am not a fan of ANYthing on the headstock of my guitars, even a clip-on tuner or spare capo.
It's a strange pet peeve of mine.
Re; tonal qualities with and without the extra weight on the headstock.
If it sounds better to you with the lightweight (standard) Gibson tuners, then that's all that matters.
I knew one player who refused to wipe-down or apply wax or polish to his guitar because to do so would 'wreck the perfect tone' of that guitar.
(It was a mid-1970's Gibson SG.)
Who was I to argue with him?
It was his guitar, and he knew what he wanted.
I just knew that I never wanted to play his SG, since I didn't feel safe touching it without a current tetanus shot in my medical records.
:unsure:
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Friday evening here.
Too hot outside to grill the chicken, so I'm going to throw some leg quarters under the broiler, turning often, and basting with a mixture of soy sauce, brown sugar, black pepper, and olive oil.
A romaine lettuce salad with fresh tomatoes from my garden.
Lots and lots of ice cold beers.
:)
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Tomorrow morning, a firm (not quite ripe) tomato before my cardio swim.
Afterwards, a grilled steak with scrambled eggs and shredded cheddar, with spicy salsa.
![[flapper]](//content.invisioncic.com/p286412/emoticons/default_msp_flapper.gif)
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Turkey burgers, stir-fried in olive oil and garlic, with sliced cherry tomatoes and jalapeño peppers, fresh from my garden.
Topped with cheddar cheese and pepper-jack cheese and black pepper.
With some ranch dressing on the side.
Man.
So good.
Here are the leftovers.
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[unsure]
:lol: :P :o :) ![[scared]](http://content.invisioncic.com/p286412/emoticons/default_msp_scared.gif)
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:mellow:![[thumbup]](http://content.invisioncic.com/p286412/emoticons/default_msp_thumbup.gif)
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What's for breakfast,lunch, or dinner?
in The Gibson Lounge
Posted
I'm headed to Bojangles this morning on the way to work.
Three scrambled cheesy eggs with two of their cajun chicken filets on the side.
Lots of Texas Pete's hot sauce, and *boom*, that's breakfast!!