Pub Prep

Ah, Friday night. National Party Night. At least it was when I was in school. Nevermind how long ago.

And so a playlist. Tuneful titillations for libations preparations.

And as always may the sidewalks of your pub crawl be soft & smooth and rise gently to meet you.

Joe Bonamassa. Some interesting ax work then Mountain Time

Walter Trout with a Robert Johnson song, but Johnson never did it like this. . .

Stevie Ray. . . Crossfire

Buddy Guy. . . Tramp . . . if you've never felt the sonic assault of his Sweet Tea album at live volume, well, it's an event. It registers about an 8 on the Richter.

And Finally Muddy Waters from the Newport Jazz Fest 1960. Don't laugh too much at the guy giving the intro. This one lovely lady my wife and I drink with insists I play this on the jukebox every time we hit F--na-a-'s Pub.

So there you go, Infidels.

I say at 10:00 Eastern tonight I'll raise one to all of you & each of you raise one to all the others . A Nationwide Toast to The Infidel Life!

Cheers!

Infidel Disclaimer: Now listen, all you crazy Jihadis out there. We Infidels, especially we Infidels who really like this kind of stuff, the stuff you just watched but won't tell your bosses you did, we're an affable fun loving bunch. Hell, we might even let you buy us a drink. But we take our fun seriously. So you just mind your manners because if we see the haft of a knife, the thread of a ripcord or any hint you're up to your shenanagan's you may quickly find yourself on the naughty end of a snubnose .357 realizing, in one final moment, that you've suffered "a catastrophic failure of the victim selection process" and there really aren't 72 virgins waiting for you. Just the Devil himself with his poker commanding you to bend over. . .