Funky Handyman

It's one of dem bomp chicka WAH WAH chick-a-chick-a-chick-a WAH WAAHHH Wednesdays.

At noon today our maintenence man, Hajj, buzzed the door to come fix our "vintage" oven; if the stove is plugged in, any one of the four burners will every so often light itself. This is rarely a good thing unless you can plan to install spontaneous combustion machines into the homes of your enemies.

After I answered the door in my jammy-jams, Hajj came in and, after a brief how-do-you-do, preceded to the kitchen, home to the offending appliance. Whilst walking through our [impeccably-decorated] parlor, he started, well, grooving. Head-bobbing, backside-wagging. The mixtape from an earlier post was playing on the hi-fi, and he was diggin' that strange.

"Never heard this version before... that Ike and Tina?"

Over the next 30 minutes I sipped a cup of ultra-yummy joe whilst Hajj made things right and talked tunage. It turned out that my unassuming handyman, née Rodger Collins, released several well-received albums, toured with some big, big time acts, and even had an extended stint in Vegas with some guy named Elvis. In a remarkable coincidence, he mentioned he was a pallbearer for the late Ike Turner.

So Hajj, thank you kindly for putting the strut in my step today. I encourage all my loyal readers to funk along with me and the Foxy Girls in Oakland.

That's right he said it.