Clamato-clamahto, Kristofferson, Cash, and Frankie

So this week quite a number of things were called to my attention.

For starters, I have a good number of Canadian commenters! I love this! I always like Canadians. Always. I know for a fact there are Porsche driving assholes up there (harassing my Hillary!) as well, but I've never met one.

Also: the Clamato Caesar! Which initially sounded terrible to me. But now I feel like I must try it. And now Nick is going to try to bring back some Clamato Bud for us. The store he went to only had it cold, and he thought that skunked Clamato Bud would probably be a bad introduction.

Also also: Nosefrida! It arrived last night! I haven't used it yet. Mostly because J is doing better and I'm trying to give him a break from the trauma. And, I don't know, the physical snot sucking, even though I know that I'm not actually going to come into contact with the snot...Not that I haven't had snot all over me at this point.

Enough snot talk.

I further learned that Kris Kristofferson wrote Sunday Morning Coming Down. Not Johnny Cash. Huh.

Here's the thing. I was raised so musically unaware. As I've said many times, my dad listened to opera and show tunes. I've been told by a number of gay men that he had the gayest taste in music. In fact, my father was told that by some of his gay friends.

And Betty never turns on music. I'm like her in that regard. I listen to music in the car or when I'm working out. Otherwise, it's more noise than I want. My head is busy enough.

So whenever I hear a song, I assume that's the artist that sings it. Basically, whoever sings it first - not first in the world - first in MY world - is who sings it.

I mean, it used to be that way. Until I realized that lots of people cover lots of songs. This is probably the most egregious example.

In the 80s, I loved Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Loved. I listened to their album Welcome to the Pleasuredome 73 katrillion times. Now, everyone knew Relax and Two Tribes, and maybe The Power of love.

But did you know that this album also included the songs Born to Run and San Jose?

Right. So for years, I just assumed that those were Frankie songs. No matter that Bruce Springsteen was insanely famous. And had an album called, uh, Born to Run.

The moment of realization arrived yeeeaaars later, when Maude and I were driving cross country and hit California and she put on Dionne Warwick singing "Do you know the way to San Jose? I've been away so long..."

I was all, "Oh, she's singing Frankie's song!"

Happy weekend, all!