Happy New Year...
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Never can resist a used record store and in the hip little neighborhood we recently stayed in in Chicago had one. It also had a Guitar Center Store which is kind of like the Wal-Mart of instrument shopping, nice stuff at all price points which if I had been buying, just like at Wal-Mart there would have been something there for me. In fact it was kind of frighteningly like the Guitar Center on 1960 in Houston which I recently visited and did not stock the item I wanted. At least in Chicago they were nice enough to let me browse around carrying two go boxes of Eduardo's pizza. The Guitar Center not the record store which is really what I started to write about. I did not get the guitars or the records greasy with pizza even though I have proved that a bucket of fried chicken eaten before each gig gives a maple Fender guitar neck a yellow shine that some mistakenly call "mojo." That same bucket of chicken also makes my belly shine out the untucked tails of my snap button western shirts making me understand more so the immortal words of Guitar Slim when it get in the the way of the "Things That I Used To Do."
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