And now, Shickley Mix. Ready, Mr. Shickley?
The answer to that inquiry is yes. Here's the theme.
Hello there, I'm Peter Shickley, and this is Shickley Mix, a program dedicated to the proposition that all musics are created equal. Or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good.
And I'd like to take a moment here to point out, with a good deal of gratitude, that our bills are paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by the National Endowment for the Arts,
with additional support from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. And from this stellar station, whose state-of-the-art studio is studded with stunningly sturdy stories.
Oh man, there goes the alliteration alleviation alarm. So let me just say that what's produced here is distributed far and wide by PRI, Public Radio International.
I'm one of those people. I'm one of those people who hardly ever remember their dreams. I know that you can train yourself to remember them better, you know, writing them down and everything. And I guess if I cared enough, I'd do that.
But I've always thought that one of the things that makes remembering dreams difficult is that you're trying, in a logical frame of mind,
to reconstruct things that are inconceivable in a logical frame of mind. I'm not talking about things that defy the laws of nature, but you could represent them, say, with an animated cartoon.
I'm talking about things that you literally cannot imagine in a logical frame of mind. I caught onto the tail of such a dream once. It was when I was a student at Swarthmore College.
And just as I was falling asleep, something woke me up rather suddenly. And because of that, I was able to capture the inconceivable thing I was dreaming. I dreamt that I was on the front lawn of the campus.
And I was thinking to myself, now, I wouldn't really do this, but if I wanted to make a big impression on campus, I would wear this certain musical chord around.
I remember exactly what it was, G6 in the first inversion. It's just like this. It's a sweet chord. Maybe even a sexy chord.
But also a chord that's been used in a lot of, well, trite and kitschy music. And the point is that I wasn't thinking about wearing a big piece of paper with the chord written on it,
or wearing a loudspeaker that was playing the chord, or anything like that. What I was considering was, what I was considering doing in that dream was actually wearing the chord in a way that I can't describe because in a waking state,
I can't picture it. I can't imagine it. It's logically inconceivable. My description of that dream may tell you something about my deep down desire to make a flashy impression on campus,
but it doesn't begin to let you in on the actual experience of the dream itself because that is inherently irretrievable, even in any detailed way by me.
But what also interests me about that dream is the sartorial ambition it reveals. I think of myself as pretty much of a slob. It's not that I don't care at all. I like my favorite clothes.
It's just that I hate shopping for clothes. That is, I hate finding nothing I like and then having to go somewhere else. So I've become one of those catalog cowboys. And then when I do find something I really like,
I hate giving it up when it starts to wear out, as, like the rest of us, it will do. So I end up wearing things that are a little bit frayed around the edges. But I shouldn't complain. As a man, I've got it easy.
It's much more complicated for a woman. After all, one of the things that clothing is about is sex and power. Two things.
Two of the things that clothing is about are sex and power, especially sex. And since most men seem to react, shall we say, more directly than most women do,
notice how carefully I phrased that, since that's true, women, if they care, have to figure out how to be attractive without being too attractive.
That is, attractive enough to be attractive but not so attractive as to attract trouble. Men behaving badly often hold women responsible for their manly bad behavior.
But even if you believe, as I do, that men are behaving even more badly when they do that, it remains true that women's clothing, or lack of it, can have a megatonically powerful effect on them.
Obviously, in addition to being protection from the elements, clothing can be a weapon, or a tool, or even currency, as the three songs in our first suite demonstrate.
See you in about eight minutes.
Thanks for watching!
It's goodbye to Indiana, proud I.D., to keep all the married men home.
These winter nights she's out to catch a cold. That's not the only thing she'll catch, I'm told.
Why, just a slight description of an Egyptian makes Papa leave Mama at home.
Oh, my husband, who never spent a nickel before, paid ten bucks, and the bum didn't even get sore.
Papa could put an I.D. on a proud I.D. to keep all the married men.
Ten bucks, he paid ten bucks, I could use that ten bucks. I wash, I iron, I cook, I clean the house, I take care of the kids.
Hardly ever go out to a kitchen.
Expensive, he says, but he pays ten bucks to go see some bluesy shimmy like a tin lizzie.
He says it's art. Art, ha! The only art they got at that place is the guy who takes the tickets.
I'll show him Aphrodite. Hi, honey, I'm home.
Read in the morning those legs that were tied.
That's meant for pedicures, beautiful dames dressed in their underwear drive me insane. Oh, that's the way that it goes. Oh, don't it get up your nose?
Oh, don't you love all that gaudy sherry?
Yes, sir.
I spilled my hot coffee right down my pants.
Jump out the chair, now I'm doing a dance. Round the kitchen. 8 a.m., I must be mad, mad for those girls in the lingerie.
Oh, that's the way that it goes. Oh, don't it get up your nose? Oh, don't you love all that gaudy sherry?
Yes, sirree. Tea kettle's whistling, my tie is a noose. Orange juice juicer is juicing that juice. Toaster is popping.
Toast, give me some air.
I love those ads for ladies' underwear.
Oh, that's the way that it goes.
Oh, don't it get up your nose? Oh, don't you love all that gaudy sherry?
Yes, sirree.
He bought me the fur coat five winters ago.
And the gown the following fall.
Then the necklace, the bag, the hat, and the shoes. That was late 48, I recall.
Then last night in his apartment, he tried to remove them all.
And as I ran down the hall,
take back your mink, take back your pails.
Made you think that I was one of those gales.
Take back the shoes and the hat, I saw that.
I thought that each expensive gift you'd arrange was a token of your esteem.
Now when I think of what you want in exchange, it all seems. It all seems a horrible dream.
To from whence it came. And tell them to hollander on. For some other day.
Make you think what you want in exchange.
It all.
Our first suite was called To Clothe or Not to Clothe. It began with David Duesing's arrangement of a song from 1920 called You'll Have to Put a Nightie on Nightie.
By Walter Donaldson, Sam Lewis and Joe Young. That was the Robert de Cormier singers from an album called Oh You Beautiful Doll. Next was Ladies Underwear by the group called Drink Me.
I say group, it's only two guys, Mark Amft and Winn Evans. And if you're up for a laid back but rather strange ambience, try to catch them live sometime. They're out of New York, I don't know how much they tour.
But I tend to like their stuff. Then last we heard Take Back Your Mink from Guys and Dolls, one of the great works of art of the 20th century. This was the original cast album that was Vivian Blaine and the Hot Box Girls.
Music and lyrics by Frank Lesser. And I'm sure you all know about his vicious twin brother Hank, who was known as the evil of two Lessers. I myself am known as Peter Shickley because that's my name.
And the program is Shickley Mix from PRI, Public Radio International. You never know what you're going to encounter on Shickley Mix. And today we're encountering clothes,
which is why the show is called Clothes Encounters. At least I think that's what it's called. It looks great on paper, but it sure is hard to say. Clothes Encounters. Well, so far, so good.
You know, I read once that a famous author of books on children was such a controlling husband that when he and his wife were going out for the evening, he would select the dress that she was to wear.
He'd lay it out on the bed and I guess that was that. Well, I'm nowhere near in that class, control-wise speaking, but I have to admit that I do care what my wife looks like
to a sometimes surprising and even perhaps embarrassing degree. Now, of course, one of the standard explanations of this phenomenon is that the husband regards the wife as his property
and he wants everybody to see what good property he owns. Well, okay, I'm not saying that there's no element of that involved whatsoever,
but it really doesn't feel right as the major factor in my own attitude. As I said before, most men are very affected by a woman's appearance.
And although I hope I'm cool and hope I don't disrespect women's privacy, I can't pretend that I don't do a certain amount of glancing around. There's an old saying, when you're through looking, you're through.
And that may be true for women as well as men, but men do seem to be especially enthralled by appearances. And speaking as a man who has been sharing a spirited marriage with the same woman for several decades,
it's really nice to look at your wife and be attracted all over again. And I do mean all over. Now, I'm not going to get into the old nature-nurture thing here. I don't pretend to know what is due to upbringing.
I remember my father once telling me that when he passed a woman on the street, he inhaled. That was when women wore perfume more than they do now. And what is due to the DNA each of us came into this world with.
Better men than I have been arguing strenuously about that for centuries. And recently, it has even occurred to them to listen to what women might have to say about it.
I also don't mean to imply that women don't care about how men dress.
We heard a chick just the other day Cooling out her boyfriend in every way She kept on a-quonkin' full of complaints
Like she expected folks to be saints She insisted that he be me So this was her complaint complete Report to the nation
I like the dimple in your chin I love the tricky way you grin Still, you ain't no kind of catch
You know why, don't you? Tell him. Boy, your socks don't match The teeth you have are pearly white Oh, both of them Your lips are sweet and they're from pucker rice
You're the kind to lift my latch But doggone you, boy Your socks don't match
The shoes you wear reveal your holes One red and one bright blue
They're strangers And I suppose you should introduce those two You've got two eyes of lovely blue
Continue, Lou A pug knows I could go for two Though you're the best of all the batch Take no use, son Cause your socks don't match
But your socks don't match
Where reveal your hoes
One red and one bright blue They're total strangers And I suppose
You should introduce those two You got two eyes of lovely blue Keep talking A cute little pug knows I could go far too
How did Hope get in here? Though you're the best of all the batch Can't know you some Cause your socks don't match You got a red one A blue one
Ain't gonna do some
Your socks don't match
Bing Crosby and Louis Jordan singing Your Socks Don't Match. The band was Louis Jordan in his Timpani Five with Jordan himself doing the sax solo. That had a word in there that is new to me, quonking.
She was quonking. I guess it's complaining or what? Razzing? Anyway, I'm the kind of guy who can buy a sport coat in a store and not notice till I get home
that the outside pockets are fake, there are no inside pockets, and two of the buttons are already beginning to come off. But a lot of guys do care, care a lot about their clothes,
even if it sometimes wouldn't be obvious to a Brooks Brothers salesman. Just as my daughter inadvertently saved our family a lot of money by being into second-hand clothing as a teenager,
there are some very hip second-hand stores in New York that are almost like costume shops. Anyway, a lot of urban guys affect a look which, were one to label it casual,
would leave one open to being charged with indulging in a considerable degree of understatement. But which, nevertheless, is arranged with just as much care by its wearers as is the Brooks Brothers look
by its wearers. They say that clothes make the man, which happens to be the name of our second suite. It's got four songs in it, and I'll be back in less than 11 minutes.
I'll be right back.
We'll be right back.
When I come walking in, in my pair of big chinos The fan's gonna hit the wall
And I wear them because they're humongous
And I wear them because they are tan And there's nothing else in my whole wardrobe I wear Makes me feel like a man No, they're just not prepared for my
Big, my pair of big chinos My big, my pair of big chinos My big, they're so damn big
Now I wear a size 34 in the waist They're a size 88 and a half
Yeah, they're fatty, I buckle On chaplain-sized chinos, but
Don't you laugh, don't you laugh
And you ain't gonna see my shirt pocket
Don't you laugh, don't you laugh
Cause I buckle them up at my chin And it's only my arms
And my head that sticks out
And the rest is all khaki
You'd better watch out for my
Big, my pair of big chinos My big, my pair of big chinos My big, they're so damn big
No one understands me
No one understands me No, I gotta break out and express myself
So I bought me a pair of reading lamps
And I strapped them both onto my belt
And I'm going out dancing tonight at the club And all you will see are my wiggling self
And my Big, my pair of big chinos
My big, my pair of big chinos My big, my pair of big chinos My big, my pair of big chinos
My big, my pair of big chinos My big, my pair of big chinos My big, they're so damn big
I was shopping for a suit the other day
And walked into the department store He stepped on the elevator and told the girl, dry goods flow.
When I got off the cell and he come up to me, he said, now what can I do for you? I said, well go in there and show me all his sports clothes.
He said, well sure, come on in buddy and dig these fabrics we got laid out on the shelf. He said, pick yourself out one, try it on, stand in the mirror and dig yourself.
That suit's pure hair and bone. Yeah, that's a suit I'd like to own. Buddy, that suit is you.
Yeah, I believe it too. I see for the business, man, you're featuring the natural shoulder that retail, wholesale is in need. It's got the custom cuffs and the walking short, he said. I'm going to let you have it at a steal.
And for the playboy, you have the latest in tweed with the cutaway flap over twice. It's a box back two button western model, he said. Hmm, now ain't that nice.
Ooh, them buttons are solid gold. Ooh, you made a deal, so.
Ooh, that collar's pure camel hair.
Ooh. Ooh. Ooh.
Well, you can just sit that right there on that chair.
Now, you go back there and you get that peep and let me sign on the dotted line. And I'll meet you. I'll get all my paintings in right on time.
Now, wait a minute, brother.
Let me go back there and do a little checking on you. Then the man, he come back, he say, I'm sorry, my man, but you, uh. Your credit didn't go through.
Why, what you mean? Ooh.
Ain't this a shame My heart's in pain
Pure, pure heaven bone
But that's a thing you'll never own Lord have mercy
I got a good job
Oh, my jeans are too tight
I can't feel my feet If I don't keep on dancing My legs will fall asleep
My tiny bombs are better known Than even man or wife
I stand up day and night Cause my jeans are too tight
Well, how did you get your big break? The DJs all inquired Oh, my jeans are too tight
Just buy your jeans
Two sizes small Throw them in the dryer Bleach them till they're paper thin Make sure the knees are ripped
Just hire yourself a roadie Just to help you get them zipped Cause my jeans are too tight
I can't feel my feet Oh, my jeans are too tight If I don't keep on dancing My legs will fall asleep
My tiny buns are better known Than even man or wife I stand up day and night
Cause my jeans are too tight
Boots can be real wobbly Your hat can be too big Just make sure that the jeans are too tight And those Levi's fit Like pigskin on a pig
If they're on you like a blue tattoo Baby, you can be a star
Go buy yourself a busload
Of those denim leotards
Oh, my jeans are too tight
I can't feel my feet If I don't keep on dancing
Just keep on dancing
My legs are gonna fall to sleep My tiny buns are better known Than even man or wife
From the back I'm dynamite
Cause my jeans are too tight
Pass out
My jeans are too tight
To the John in six months
My jeans are too tight
Like Mammy Yoakum said to Dwight. Good line. That suite was Clothes Make the Man.
We started out with Elvis. Elvis Presley singing Blue Suede Shoes. And then from a CD called Greenwich Village Folk Festival, we heard Jim Infantino singing Big Chino's.
I guess we're talking about Infantino's Chino's here. And then that very poignant song called Shopping for Clothes was The Coasters.
It was written by the team that wrote most of their hits, Lieber and Stoller. Maybe all their hits. What do I know? Most of their hits.
And then finally we ended up with My Jeans Are Too Tight by Jerry House. Well, you know, when you look at that, when you look at pictures of Elvis from the 50s,
you realize that men's appearances are often just as highly stylized as women's. It's like a badge or an ID tag. Take me, for instance.
When I look in the mirror and I see those faded jeans with the 15-year-old belt and that corduroy jacket without any lining and that pretty nice shirt whose pocket, however,
has worn through where the points of the scripto pencil and the pilot pen rub against it, I think to myself, hey, that must be Peter Shickley, the host of Shickley Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
If you've ever seen Carousel, you'll remember this song.
June is bustin' out of bushes And the rompin' river pushes
Every little wheel that wheels beside a mill June is bustin' out over The feeling is gettin' so intense
Carousel opened in 1945. And a few years after that, we had an assembly in my junior high school that featured a comedian. And he had a routine about his girlfriend, June,
who bought a dress that was two sizes too small. And when she put it on, he said, June is bustin' out all over. And there was this intern teacher.
You know, he was a grown-up to me, but I suppose he was in his early 20s. And that joke hit his funny bone like a 10-ton truck. And he could not stop laughing. I mean, everyone else finished laughing
and then turned around and looked at him at the back of the auditorium, his face red, gasping for breath, very embarrassed, but unable to stop. Now remember, this was the late 40s.
That joke was considered a bit on the edge for a junior high school anyway. So his paroxysms of laughter were particularly inappropriate for a teacher. I've always wondered what became of him.
Did he go ahead and make teaching his career? Or did he opt for a more solitary path? Or did he opt for a more convivial profession, like gem cutting? Or a more convivial profession, like bartending? But if you're not going to get into trouble with your potential employers,
it's wonderful, isn't it, to laugh so hard you have trouble catching your breath. How often does that happen? Not often enough, as far as I'm concerned. Today's program is called Clothed Encounters. Get it?
And when I started putting the show together, I was thinking about all different kinds of clothing, and we deal with hats on another program. But it didn't occur to me, that I was going to be in the show. That I'd run across a song that refers, however tangentially,
to the only article of clothing that we in this culture wear almost continuously, around the clock, when we wear it at all. Hey, it's tidbit time, folks,
and today's tidbit is called Diaper Pin. I'm so afraid
Of all the places I'm going In love with places I've been
So come and let me tell you the tragic story
Of how it began With those long pretty fingers
Running up and down my horn
The fingers that have captured me
And held me so near since the day I was born They're the very same fingers
That goes to pushing inside
Push a button and elevator starts
This lonesome ride
And then as high above the ground
I'm going round, I'm going all alone Blowing on and on to spin The diaper pin Pinning up the mood that I'm in
Up in that old
Old black tragedy called the blues How I wish I could lose All of the memories of yesterday I know all those days have gone away now
But they keep calling me back somehow There is nothing quite so soothing As all of the pleasures found in losing
Myself in the memory
Just like the time
When my baby said to me My darling, you must be the one made for me Why, yes, as plain as can be I know by your feeling Yours and mine agree
We have been so long without each other there In the gloom Doomed to destiny Take me in your arms forever Hold me tight
Kiss me so soft and light Yes, it's all right Just blame the night
Shine on, oh moon
And make the future bright
Oh, yes, it was a beautiful beginning
But, oh, it's so sad Too bad these things must have an ending The devil in words like We two won't do I'm through with you Came around and brought a change
And left me in a world So different and strange World so new World so lonely and blue I really don't know what to do
So afraid of where I'm going Wish I'd been
I'd hate to feel just like the baby Being stuck again The same old pain In the end
I think I'd rather be alone Alone with sweet saxophone To blow and blow and blow away in memory
I know I'll never be free I know But what difference can there really be If we just wait until we've made a few more trips around the sun
Perhaps I'll know much more about it then
Until then I'm so afraid of where I'm going
And so in love with where I've been
King Pleasure singing Diaper Pin, which consists of King Pleasure's lyrics to Stan Getz's
improvisation on the chord changes of Harold Arlen's That Old Black Magic. Although actually Getz himself came up with the title, since his first son had just been born when he recorded
his instrumental version of Old Black Magic. You know, that whole art form of putting words to improvised solos, I was just thinking about it as I was listening to that thing,
that that whole art form is based on the availability of recordings. Before recordings, nobody would
ever remember that carefully, what the improvisation was like. Well, now we come to clothes encounters
of the third kind. In our next and last suite, clothing is used metaphorically. Now of course, just because metaphor is a college type word, doesn't mean that metaphor is a good word.
Metaphors are only used in college type writing. I remember hearing a nice country song once, in which a guy is worried that his girl's falling out of love with him, and
the refrain went something like, well I ain't heard no thunder, but it feels like it's gonna rain. Metaphorical clothes has three numbers and lasts about nine minutes. I'll see you then.
The bride, I said the soldier, dressed in white, dressed in white, dressed in white,
dressed in his red coat. I, with my trumpet, my sword and my flag, I murdered the minute.
I took the minutes, and what could I do? For see how the black men kneel, he said. The gay
purple hours, the hours of faith. I, said the parson, in his black cloak. I, with my book, I cast my holy rock, and see how the people kneel at night.
Ooh.
You slew the year, the sweet precious years, the years of truth. I, said the lover, in
her gay gown. I, and my breasts and my eyes, I slew the year, I slew the year, I slew the
years. My silly dove, and see how you kneeled to me in love.
Through the years I go wandering once again, back to the seasons of my youth, I recall the
box of rags that someone gave us, and how my mamma put those in front of me, and how
rags to use there were rags of many colors but every piece was small and i didn't have a coat
and it was a way down in the fall mama sewed the rags together so in every piece with love
she made my coat of many colors that i was so proud of as she sewed she told a story
from the bible she had read about a coat of many colors joseph warren then she said
perhaps this coat will bring you good luck and happiness and i just couldn't wait to wear it
and mama blessed it with a kiss my coat of many colors that my mama made for me made only from bread
but i wore it so i was rich as i could be in my coat of many colors my mama made for me
so with patches on my britches and holes in both my shoes in my coat of many colors
i hurried off to school just to find the others laughing and making fun of me
and my
coat of many colors my mama made for me and oh i couldn't understand it for i felt i was rich
and i told them all the love my mama sewed in every stitch and i told them all the story
mama told me what she sewed and how my coat of many colors was worth more than all their clothes
but they didn't understand it and i tried to make them see that one is only poor only if they choose to be
now i know we had no money but i was rich as i could be in my coat of many colors
my mama made for me made just for me
me of your sweat
i don't mean that the clothes in these songs aren't real but in all three of the numbers they
obviously stand for more than just clothes me of your sweat We started out with a song from the Joan Baez album called Baptism. It's Who Murdered the Minutes.
The lyric is from a poem by Henry Treese. And the composer is the no longer young American composer Peter Shickley, who was also conducting the ensemble.
Then we had what somebody told me recently was Dolly Parton's first hit, Coat of Many Colors. And she wrote that song as well as was singing it there.
Of course, that was another version of Joseph in his Technicolor mind coat or whatever that is. Then we had, finally, Laurie Anderson doing Sweaters.
Now, most of, not all, but most of the numbers we've been dealing with on this show have been about a specific article of clothing.
A coat or some underwear or a nightie or some blue suede shoes or some big chinos or a suit or jeans. I think it's...
It's time now to go out with the whole outfit. You know, let's put on the whole dog there, as it were. Here's Ella Fitzgerald. And this is an interesting rendition of this song
because there's no doubt that we're talking about what is usually considered men's clothing here. But it sounds just fine with Ella singing it. Top hat, white tie, and tails.
I'm putting on my top hat. Hat.
Tying up my white tie.
Brushing off my tails. I'm duding up my shirt front.
Putting in the shirt studs. Polishing my nails.
I'm stepping out, my dear, to breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class.
Yes.
And I trust that you'll excuse my dust when I step on the gas. For I'll be there. Putting down my top hat.
Bussing up my white tie.
Dancing in my tails.
I just got an invitation through the mails. Your presence requested this evening.
It's formal. A top hat, a white tie, and tails. Nothing now could take the wind out of my sails.
Because I'm invited to step out this evening with top hat and white tie and tails. I'm putting on my top hat.
Tying up my white tie.
Brushing off my tails. I'm duding up my shirt front.
Putting in the shirt studs. Polishing my nails.
I'm stepping out, my dear, to breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class.
And I trust that you'll excuse my dust when I step on the gas. For I'll be there. For I'll be there.
Putting down my top hat.
Bussing up my white tie. Dancing in my tails.
Ella Fitzgerald singing Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails by Irving Berlin with Paul Weston and his orchestra. You know, this has been sort of a confessional show here.
And just listening to that last number, I'm a little nervous. I had a memory I hadn't thought about for a while. And that is that when I was in high school, my mother made me a shirt once.
And it was a little bit like a Dolly Parton situation there. I was just thinking. Because she made me this shirt from scratch. No pattern or anything. And I got to school and all the kids started razzing me.
They said, hey Peter, why did you... They probably said Pete. They said, hey Pete, why did you wear your pajamas to school? Now that's probably enough to turn any guy. Into an anti-clothes horse.
But clothes definitely make a statement. We all have friends who really don't seem to care what they wear. But that's a statement too. My specialty is buying jackets and pants separately.
And then nothing goes together with anything else in the closet. Except that just about everything goes with jeans. Which I'd be happy wearing just about every day for the rest of my life.
I wore a necktie once in 1965. Now seriously folks. I've probably worn a tie at least a dozen times since then. By the way. You know who was quite the clothes horse?
Apparently spent a lot of money on clothes? A short little guy named Mozart.
And that's Sickly Mix for this week. Our program is made possible with funds provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by the National Endowment for the Arts.
With additional support from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. And from this radio station and this program. And its members. Thank you members. And not only that. Our program is distributed by PRI.
Public Radio International. We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist of all the music on today's program. With album numbers and everything. Just refer to the program number.
This is program number 135. And this is Peter Sickily saying goodbye and reminding you that it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi. You're looking good. See you next week.
Bye. I'm stepping up my dear to breath.
An atmosphere that simply reeks with class.
And I trust that you will excuse my dust when I step on the gas.
Or I'll be there.
Putting down my top caps. Messing up my white victorious coat of arms. Dancing in my taise. Taking the
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned,
send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Shickley Mix. That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Shickley Mix.
Care of Public Radio International, 100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 55403.
PRI, Public Radio International.