Horse Operas in G-Flat and Four Octaves...it's all equal temperament...friends like Trump

It’s Thursday, we’re sailing past another week! It was another night of violent storms here at The Compound and across this region. I very much appreciate the rain, but how about a day or two of non-stop gentle rain…nah, I’d complain about that too, I suppose.

The Wife leaves on another of her fabulous vacations today. Cousin Fred has already asked if, once she’s gone, he can bring his new electronic keyboard into the main house. He says the hairdressing hydrologist Gigi is complaining about the noise in Das Boot.

I pointed out that most electronic keyboards are equipped with headphone jacks, but that seemed lost on him. Before I agreed to anything, I insisted that he tell me what he’s up to with this latest project of his.

Hopefully, you’re all sitting down.

He’s writing an opera. No seriously.

And, not just any opera. He already has the title picked out: Temple Houston: A Horse Opera in G-Flat and Four Octaves.

I can’t make this sh*t up!

For those of you not familiar with the life and legacy of Temple Houston…here’s the 50-cent tour (look up the rest). He was the youngest son of Sam Houston (of the Texas Houstons). He became a famous lawyer, moved to Northwest Oklahoma, spoke several languages, was (by nearly all accounts) a brilliant orator, was highly entertaining when he lectured rooms full of people on everything from astronomy to deeper question of faith.

He was best known for two things: 1) the Soiled Dove defense; and, 2) a shoot out in the Cabinet Saloon where he was defending himself against two other lawyers bent on killing him (maybe Shakespeare was right). That he was something of an enigma becomes apparent when you juxtapose the brilliant lawyer thing with the fact that he was also a bad drunk, a womanizer, and a little too fast to settle a score with the business end of his Colt Peacemaker.

But, I digress…

I pointed out to Cousin Fred that his opera’s title is a bit lengthy and I’m not altogether certain it could be fitted on the front of any modern playbill. Cousin Fred is not to be swayed.

Temple Houston: A Horse Opera in G-Flat and Four Octaves, it is.

I next pointed out to Cousin Fred that he doesn’t know squat about writing music, let alone opera. Not a problem, he assured me. He is already at work on the libretto and is bringing in someone to hammer out the arrangement.

That someone is a local hammerer, I presumed? No chance.

He’s bringing in someone schooled in the classics who was rejected in the first round of the 2017 America’s Got Talent. Oh, perfect…an AGT reject.

Cousin Fred asked if Montague (Monty to his friends) can stay in the main house while he’s here.
That’s when I began to realize that I’m being hornswoggled. Fred was waiting for the Wife to leave town before starting this project. I said fine but pointed out that Montague must be gone before the Wife returns, knowing full well there’s no chance of completing an opera in a week.

We’ll see.

In the meantime, are any of you following the rekindled drama surrounding Attorney General Jeff Sessions extremely tentative fingerhold on his job?

So, Rep. Trey Gowdy (Mr. February in the upcoming hottie conservatives calendar photo shoot) went on morning television yesterday and commented that if he had been in The Trump’s position, he would have fired Jeff Sessions first thing.

Well, that got The Trump fired up and soon it was all blazing thumbs as he started Tweeting hate and molten lava at Sessions for recusing himself from the so-called witch hunt (aka, the Russia investigation) underway in the Justice Dept.

And, it’s still going on, spilling over into today. I guess The Trump forgot about Sessions (he hasn’t been invited to the White House for quite awhile now). Gowdy’s comments have The Trump fired up and he’s making Session’s life a misery once again.

For whatever reason though, The Trump won’t fire Sessions. The thing that kills me is that Sessions won’t quit. I mean, how much public humiliation can one person endure? You know everyone in DC is snickering at him behind his back.

Maybe, Sessions is waiting for some date in the future when he’ll hit an administrative gate, so he can retire as AG and go back to Alabama to sip moonshine on a porch somewhere and say, “Well, when I was AG.”

That creepy fool Giuliani says Sessions sticks around because he and The Trump are such close friends.

Some friend, eh?

​That is all!

---