A man needs something he can hold on to. A nine pound hammer or a woman like you.

Great couplet.

Anyway, so I'm in the award-winning Albany food co-op with the annoying name of "Honest Weight Food Co-op."  Which has that same gleaming hubris as a good Ray LaMontagne song.

Talk about a guy who's full of himself.
Tell me about it.  It's no accident he looks just like Jesus Christ.

Anyway, I went to the co-op to buy some food.  Lots of great things.  I love those machines that let you pour as many lentils as you want into a bag, weigh it, write a product-code number on the sticker and on you go to the granola.  Of which they have plenty.

So I'm almost done and I remember I want some chicken stock.  So I go to the information desk and ask where it might be.  She tells me that they have some in a box, which is good, but also some frozen stock in the back, which is awesome.  Her word, not mine.

So I go back there and find a quart of frozen chicken stock.  As is typically the case in situations like this, it's priced way more than the box.  But okay, it looks great.  Awesome, even.  And then I spy something even more interesting.  Duck stock!

Wow!  Duck stock!

Rufus T. Firefly: Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot, but don't let that fool you: he really is an idiot. I implore you, send him back to his father and brothers, who are waiting for him with open arms in the penitentiary. I suggest that we give him ten years in Leavenworth, or eleven years in Twelveworth.

Chicolini: I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll take five and ten in Woolworth.

That's Duck Soup, not duck stock, just so we're clear.

So I buy a quart of that as well and go home.  And now all I can think about is the quart of duck stock in my freezer.  I wish I'd bought two pints -- that would be more convenient -- because I know that once I thaw the stuff the clock starts ticking.  And how much duck stock can one guy use?

I'm thinking of making some vegetarian split pea soup with smoked bacon and duck stock.

Here's the lyrics from Jolene ...

Cocaine flame in my bloodstream
Sold my coat when I hit Spokane
Bought myself a hard pack of cigarettes
In the early mornin' rain

Lately my hands they don't feel like mine
My eyes been stung with dust and blind
Held you in my arms one time
Lost you just the same

Jolene, I ain't about to go straight, it's too late
I found myself face down in a ditch
Booze in my hair, blood on my lips
A picture of you holding a picture of me
In the pocket of my blue jeans

Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene, Jolene

Been so long since I seen your face
Felt a part of this human race
I've been living out of this
Here suitcase for way too long

Man needs something he can hold onto
Nine pound hammer or a woman like you
Either one of them things will do

Jolene, I ain't about to go straight, it's too late
I found myself face down in a ditch
Booze in my hair, blood on my lips
A picture of you holding a picture of me
In the pocket of my blue jeans

Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

And a video ...



Great song.

Even if the man is a pantload
Even if.