John S. Glas Fieldhouse in Bemidji, Minnesota
SS: These are the good years for Jim and me. He slipped on the ice and twisted his back and luckily for him it was at the mall and he remembered to lie down and groan and cry out Oh my god Oh my god and so forth and so we got a very nice cash settlement which could have paid for two weeks at the Rancho las Paradiso resort and spa in Palm Springs but it was Jim's money and he invested it in a CD and not a Certificate of Deposit CD ---- no, a CD CD by a waitress named Amber Buxtehude who also plays guitar ---- none too well, if you ask me, but it makes Jim happy so what the heck. (SPA GUITAR UNDER) I listened to it for 38 times and then I couldn't deal with it anymore. ---- Jim, put on your headphones. Please.
TR: Barb, I'm meditating.
SS: You're meditating about Amber. Take it somewhere else.
TR: I listen to it and I feel connected.
SS: Connected to Amber, right.
TR: It's helping me get through the winter.
SS: Oh please------
TR: There's no such thing as cold and darkness. There's only being. Fullness of being. It can't be expressed in terms of temperature. Life is not about comfort, Barb. It's about acceptance. We're all one, Barb.
SS: Not with Amber, we're not.
TR: It's one world and we are one with it. A unified universe. The great Oneness of Everything.
SS: Jim, it's one waitress who knows one chord on the guitar and she's playing it over and over--
TR: Repetition is a tool for entering into the divine.
SS: Then repeat after me: the house is infested with mice. We have to set traps or poison------ mouse droppings on the kitchen counter-----
TR: Barb, mice are creatures too, they want the same things we want: food, warmth, acceptance.
SS: The music is making you stupid, Jim. And that's why I'm turning it off. (SNAP, MUSIC STOP) The music is off, Jim. It's stopped.
TR: I can still hear it in my heart.
SS: It's February. The mice are eating our lunch. The sidewalk needs to be scraped and sanded.
TR: I feel warm and happy.
SS: I don't think you're getting enough ketchup, Jim. Ketchup is filled with natural mellowing agents that give you inner peace and tranquility but without making you an idiot and irritating the people who live with you. I'm going to give you a big dollop of ketchup and then we're going somewhere warm in March.
These are the good times
Spring is coming soon
Maybe by April
Maybe by June
Life is flowing
Like ketchup on a prune
GK: Ketchup for the good times.
RD: Ketchup, ketchup.
Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).