No, I don’t have a speck of dust in my eye……I’m blinking my eye flirtatiously at you, as a clue about the identity of today’s featured artiste. You, know, so no one will be able to find this post from searching and my blog will be safe from those evil-doers who seek to shut me down.
Despite excessive surface noise that I made no attempt to mask, this record is surely low mileage, only taken out for a spin on Sundays by a little old grandma. To annoy her ungrateful family, no doubt. “No Grandma, please not the Dink Mockingdale album again noooooooo….”
It’s all here….stories of miners dead bones being picked clean by buzzards, a grotesque and grandly awkward Negro preacher (hey, it’s HIS story, not MINE, “sho nuff”), a poem by a man named Joyce, baby-snatching angels, and a serviceman threatened with the stockade after committing the worst crime ever, namely taking out a deck of cards in church. And all in the dulcet and stentorian tones (heartfelt spoken word to music, no singing) of a noted American game show host.
I don’t know what to make of the liner notes except that they start off with a paradox:
‘Names make hits” is an axiom in the fabulous world of records. Conversely, it is equally true that hits make names.
OK, you first say you have to be famous to make a hit record, then you say it’s equally true that if you get a hit record then you will be famous. I don’t think you’re being paradoxical after all, I think you’re just being half-assed with your writing. And, Dink, I think this slow paced recitation along to music is lazy too, go ahead, try to hit a note, I dare you.
How DARE you! I thought DECK OF CARDS was long gone and just a figment of my imagination. But, NOOOO, you had to find it and bring it back to life.
Actually, this is a great find. I had a 45-rpm of DECK OF CARDS, but I didn’t know it was an entire album. I’m really anxious to listen to this one.
Just remember, I was that soldier!!!