Today is Rain Day in Waynesburg, PA.
Rain Day got its beginning in the Daly & Spraggs Drug Store, located in the center of Waynesburg. Legend has it that one day a farmer was in the drugstore and mentioned to Byron Daly that it would rain the next day, July 29. Mr. Daly asked him how he knew and he replied that it was his birthday and that it always rained on his birthday. He had a journal for several years in which he recorded the weather and always had noted rain on July 29th. Mr. Daly thought this was too sure a thing to let pass, so he started betting salesmen who came into his drugstore that it would rain in Waynesburg on July 29. The bet was usually a new hat, which of course he would win.
Every year, the town bets someone famous that it will rain, and usually collects a hat from them, because it nearly always rains, at least a few drops. Weather.com is calling for isolated thunderstorms, so it’s looking good for the festival!
Famous bettors in years past include the Three Stooges, Cassius Clay (Muhammad Ali), Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, the Dixie Chicks, Johnny Carson, and Punxsutawney Phil, himself associated with another famous Pennsylvania weather-related phenomenon.
I haven’t been able to attend Rain Day festivities in years. Wish I could be home this year. Keep your fingers crossed for rain! And get your Rain Day gear here.
UNLEASH THE FURY OF ZOMBIE WOMEN AS A MIGHTY FORCE FOR REVOLUTION!!!!!
Zombie women of the world, I ask you: why are we content to shamble aimlessly along behind our brethren, following them willy-nilly, eating the leftover brains, and cleaning up after they senselessly destroy some village? Would it kill them to take a turn minding the zombikins for a change? No, it would not. Because they are undead.
There I was just last week, shambling along after Nigel on Shakedown Street. Like he knew where he was going! “Would it fucking KILL you to stop and ask for directions?” I asked him for the eleventy-fucktillionth time. “I’m pretty sure we are shambling away from the Mutter Museum, not towards it.” I am sure you know what happened next. He just zombisplained me about zombie men’s superior shambling gait and kept on in the same direction.
Eventually we shambled into Rittenhouse Square, which is lovely, but definitely NOT the Mutter Museum. About the time Nigel was ready to embark upon the tenth shambling circuit of the park, hoping a sign for the Mutter Museum would appear, it occurred to me that I could just sit down on one of those darling benches in the park. I won’t lie to you: I’d taken notice of all the humans in the park and, feeling a bit famished, I wasn’t fancying another meal of leftover brains. I begged Nigel to stop the shambling and go with me but he just muttered “We’re making good tiiiiiiiiiiiiiime…..”
So Mr. Z and I went to that Phish show last Friday night. We bought our tix for that show from a ticket liquidator online. Had to call them to confirm and all because it was last minute. They were all set to walk us through the VERY COMPLICATED PROCESS of opening the email, downloading the emailed tix doc, and printing it. First thing the person on the phone said was, “Hey Phish fan, are you ready to have fun? Are you doing ‘shrooms already?” (We were not, then or later.) Then he began talking very slowly and carefully to Mr. Z. “Do you have a computer? Do you know how to turn it on? Do you have email? Do you know how to open it? Do you have a printer? Do you know how to turn it on? Do you know how to connect your computer to your printer? Do you see the email from us in your email inbox? Do you know how to open the attachment?” and so on. It was hilarious. After we got off the phone we speculated that the ticket liquidator had plenty of experience talking quite a few seriously high Phish fans through the process of printing their last minute Phish tix.
Phish, you were fabulously jamtastic, and I dearly loved that sweet cover of Joni Mitchell’s “Free Man In Paris”, but I swear there were times when your light show made me feel like I was strapped in a chair next to Karl in Room 23. What can I say? I freely bought my own ticket.
Also: I neglected to bring along a hardhat, which would have come in handy for the glow stick hailstorm during your version of the opening movement of Also Sprach Zarathustra. Everybody looked like they were having fun and the glow stick tossing was random and joyous, so it was all cool. Thanks for the show.
Oh, P. S.: I know there are those who love Big Green Furry Monster From Mars – enough to fill whole amphitheaters – but that there is a migraine-inducer, boys.
oh. my. fucking. god.
I sooooooo wish I had thought of inventing FEMINIST HULK!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am in love with Feminist Hulk. In love. LOVE! Love, I say!
Hat tip Rebecca of Adventures in Applied Math.
UPDATE: Ms. Magazine interview with my new love!
Because sometimes I need to take a breather, here’s this post about fun stuff.
(with apologies to Carl Sandburg…)
Delfest jams on little mud feet.
It dances looking
over mountain and meadow
on singing multitudes
and then moves on.
I can’t believe I have to wait a whole nother year for Delfest 2011.
What is Delfest, you ask?