B E B E R E

Pablo, the Late-blooming Karaoke Fiend

Don’t look now, they have created a new monster at Pizzeria Uno.

So I sang George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone” last night, after the host let everybody know that I was a karaoke VIRGIN.

I did it almost all without looking at the prompter. Still I flubbed one line (“I’ll make a young girl squeal”) and I reentered one measure early after the second instrumental break and then repeated the line. But nobody really cared about that. And boy, did I growl my heart out. More than one person told me I was a great mimic or that I out-Georged George. (“Who knew?”) And I air-guitared too. And I don’t mean just wheeling my right hand around. I had listened obsessively enough to that track that I could anticipate where every up and down glissando and tremolo was in the main solo so I could move my left hand just so. I got a comment too about that from a friend.

Somebody was screaming for me, and not just my ladyfriend. I think. One of the familiar waitresses hugged me when I returned to my seat and said “I’m in love!” (“But I’m taken,” I said.) One of the regular singers told me that the host told him that he was truly blown away.

And when the night was over, and the host awarded his (totally subjective) $25 prize, guess who got it.

Yeah, I brought the house down. I am going to be a tough act for me to follow now. But if I sing again, it will be something in a wholly different veWhat constitutes a suitable repertoire addition in this genre?in. The folks there who know me could appreciate the irony of me singing a bad-boy song. They know that in real life I ain’t even bad to the skin. I don’t want to get type-cast now as the act that I’m not. It would get tired.

So, maybe a silly humorous song next week. Suggestions?

I wouldn't even know where to begin.