Monday, 2 February 2015


  • Bang, we're in February. Exciting supernatural days we're heading into. My new album (the one with Brian on drums ) is ALMOST finished and I can hardly wait for you to hear it.  Spring tour dates are also coming together.
  • Tomorrow, Tuesday  the 3rd, is not only Full Moon ( "AAAAaaaaaaooooooOOOOO!" )  but also that strange case Joe Meek/Buddy Holly death anniversary that inspired my song 'Joe Meek Warns Buddy Holly' (released on this day in 2009). 

Of course all this foretelling strangeness pales (as it does every year) when compared to what is going on in Wowtown today, where - like every year on this date - it is of course Groundhog Day. So let's head over there shall we?

People often get this Groundhog Day stuff confused but the tradition goes like this:

Sun today is bad. 

Groundhog scared by own shadow results in prolonged winter. 

This presumes, of course, that you are more fond of summer than winter (which is not actually true for everyone).

Sporadic cumulous clouds have been accumulating sportingly all morning, but it is anyone's guess if they'll lay it on thickly enough to block the sun consistently.

Al the Groundhog crawls out of his hole eventually with a sigh, pretending not to notice the large circle of hundreds of hushed townsfolk surrounding him.  He shakes open his portable mini lawn chair, puts on his shades, lights a cigarette and reclines. Reflected in his glasses a train of conjoined clouds move slowly like a line of aerial snails across the sky, trailing a milky, slimy path from west to east, always just blocking the sun.

Suddenly Al jumps up from his chair, yanks off his sunglasses and screams "What do you people want??!!!" He turns around slowly, his little head thrust out, scanning and scrutinizing the horrified eyes of the gathered throng, squinting menacingly.  "How would YOU like it if you woke up peacefully after a long nap, half way between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox - haven't even had your coffee - and the whole friggin' TOWN is there, staring down YOUR hole?!"

The townsfolk exchange startled wide-eyed glances with each other for a second but otherwise remain motionless, dumbstruck.

A few moments later Al sighs, says "Hmmph!", then resumes his reclining and cloud gazing.
Ten minutes later he jumps up again.  "AND ANOTHER THING!..." he exclaims.
But before he is able to finish, a dazzling beam of sunlight pierces through a tiny accidental hole in the aerial snail slime, hitting Al like a spotlight from God. He bows his head and screams in terror as he sees it: a horrifying dark menacing hairy shape on the earth before him, its arms outstretched, the shadows of its hundred fangs dripping with the silhouettes of the blood of a thousand virgin Groundhog maidens.  "AAAAAaaaaaaaaa!" he cries, as he leaps back into the safety of his hole.

Wild applause ensues.  It was a good show. Everyone loves Al. 
The skiers thrust their mittened fists to the sky, victorious.

Happy Groundhog Day,

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