National Yodelling Day!

Forget Thanksgiving. I have declared it National Yodelling Day at my digs. Partially to mask the "Reggae" music (Which, it: "really isn't at all") coming through my kitchen wall. Yea, I live in an apartment building with a Guy That Likes what he thinks is "Reggae" living next door. It ain't. It's that awful "Island meets Reggae meets Hip-Hop, Meets-Trash-Talkin'-Rap." And, it BLOWS DEAD BEARS! So. "Retaliation?" You bet. Yodelling Festival ALL DAY LONG, or, until it stops. Guys That Like Reggae, really hate accordions and yodeling. I know this from experience. Just what: "The Doctor, Ordered."

I recently met one of the men in this "yodeling choir." He lives in the same: "Almost The Pacific Northwest" town that I do and is a delightful man. He whipped out a couple of bars of beautiful riffs while we were in the bank, where I met him. EVERYONE in the joint "stopped what they were doing" and their mouths fell open. We went back to our business. I stopped him outside the bank and we had a very pleasant chat about skiing and The Alps in general. He gave me his business card, which reads: "Will Yodel For Beer." He taught skiing at St. Moritz, Switzerland, teaching along the way. He came the the United States 50 or so years ago. Lake Placid, New York, got married and came to the West Coast to raise his kids a operate a bakery. He was in the '48 Winter Olympics, Ski Jumper. At 86 years young, he's retired.  He: knows "Who he is." I: "Know who he is." Some of my family: "Know who he is." Around town, Everybody who's Anybody, knows him. 

More: 

 

"I Got Your Old Lady, Too." 

-Doc "The Asshole Next Door" Anchovy 

(More when I get out of this: "You inserted a video" format.)