Friday, April 09, 2021

Redneck Mothers And Catty Honkytonk Women

 April 9, 2021

   I've been having a total blast revisiting all my Hayloft-Honkytonk adventures and I have a hunch everything will be in a book one of these days.

Confessions of A Honkytonk Drummer

How to survive nympho rodeos, barroom brawls and live happily ever after.

   Here is a scene that takes me right back.

Daily Whip Out:
"The Heatwave On A Saturday Night"

   Hot neon and a sea of trucks and one Caddie in the parking lot of the Heatwave Cafe. Oh, and an A-1 Pilsner Beer sign hanging over everything.

Here's another scene I saw plenty of times in my honkytonk years:

Daily Whip Out: "Catty Honkytonk Women"

I'll buy you lunch if you can tell me what they're saying.

And, here's another scene I witnessed a couple thousand times in my honkytonk career. A stoved-up cowboy hittin' on a waitress. What are the odds?

Daily Whip Out: "Pinball Cowboy"

Alternative title, or caption, via Juni Fisher: "She Apparently Has Not Gotten Her Tip Yet"

This was at the legendary Tara's Mineshaft Bar & Restaurant in Cave Creek, Arizona back in the Naughty Nineties.

Wild Women of The Wild West

I met some very wild women in my crazy honkytonk years, and the good news is, at least for me, is that I married one of them. Of course, there were other women, including this gal, who I ran into way back in the Savage Seventies.

Daily Whip Out:
"Knockin' One Back In The Parking Lot"

   Yes, that would be Honkytonk Sue a young cowgirl dear to my heart and my pocketbook. Which, come to think of it, who in the hell calls a wallet a pocketbook anymore? Except in the slang cliche, "Well, that hit him in his pocketbook". Oh, really? He had a book in his pocket? Did it stop the bullet? Hope so.

Last Call
   At 12:45 A.M. at every honkytonk I ever played, the bartender would yell out "Last call (for alcohol)," because in Arizona, anyway, you legally couldn't serve alcohol after one A.M., or on Sunday until noon. The drunks, who were already trashed, ordered a double, or two, and the drivers got one for the road (this was light years before the "designated driver") and, after that rush of activity, even the stragglers started to clear out, but not everybody. In my experience, there was always this one drunk guy (never a girl) who refused to leave, smashed stuff, often in the bathroom, and the bouncer(s) had to beat his ass and physically take him out to the parking lot. One time I was loading out my drums and I had to step over the bouncer grappling on the floor with the drunken galoot in the front doorway. The drunk was screaming about being a veteran and how it just wasn't right to be treated like this since he fought for his country. I kind of agreed with him, but I stayed out of it and when I came back in for the second load, I used the back door.

Daily Whip Out: "Redneck Mother"

"And it's up against the wall, redneck mother. Mother who has raised her son so well. He's thirty four and drinkin' in a honkytonk, just kickin' hippies' asses and raisin' hell."
—Ray Wylie Hubbard

   And, if you are not familiar with the song, or just want to get a big, fat grin on your face, here's the tune in all its glory.

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