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Saturday we headed around the corner to Northside Tavern in an effort to
catch Mudcat and Neal "Big Daddy" Pattman, but once we got in the door
(thanks to Danny for the press pass) we remembered why we don't go see
Mudcat at Northside on a Saturday any more. The place was packed wall to
wall with tech students and alumni and sundry other yuppie scum. While I
don't like the upscale crowd in the first place, the density of the crowd
itself was absurd. We squeezed between a couple of tables for a few square
feet of breathing room but eventually we just couldn't take it. The chatty
crowd drowned out the sound and you couldn't see unless you were right up
front so we beat a retreat.
At Lenny's there were a couple of touchy-feely acoustic bands who had talent
and skill, it just wasn't the right time or place. I didn't catch the name
of the acts due to "Vin", a guy bending my ear all night about how he's got
a case of grenades and several fully automatic weapons so that "when the
goombahs parachute into my back yard I'll be ready for 'em."
Degenerates LH and JH decided they'd have an anti-superbowl gathering at
their place on Sunday so we hastily threw together a cooler full of
comestibles and headed their way. Between rounds of pool and trips to the
buffet table, I caught a few of the better commercials and the halftime
show. Shania Twain has the worst wardrobe in all of pop/country/rock, and it
continues to impress me. Last night she looked like Vampira going to the
Oscars. Surreal, but plenty of bouncing cleavage to keep my attention. But
the best moment in her set was when the fiddle player tossed his instrument
into the crowd in the middle of a song, admitting he wasn't really
playing the thing in the first place. Hilarious.

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