El Dorados - Tears On My Pillow/A Rose For My Darling

I could’ve used a gospel 45 this morning — really could’ve strutted in with some sanctified reverb — but nope. Not a single one ready. My gospel bench is emptier than the McDonald’s promise of “order ahead for convenience,” which, by the way, they spectacularly failed at yesterday. I tried to get a sandwich with the app, they couldn’t get it right, and I took that as the universe tapping me on the shoulder saying, “Hey… buddy… you don’t need a sodium‑brick disguised as breakfast.”

So I drove off, slightly hungry, slightly smug, and went to pick up Tazzie’s urn from the vet — which was its own emotional weather system — and then, because my life is a collage, I hit an estate sale. Naturally, I met someone who wants to call me about her records. Because of course I did. I can’t go anywhere without accidentally networking like a man who smells faintly of 45 RPM destiny.

Then I got home, looked around, realized I had zero gospel ready, and immediately judged myself. I should’ve recorded at least one. I used to be so good — had ideas lined up a month at a time like a responsible adult who knows what he’s doing. Now I’m winging it like a possum who found a flashlight.

Busy day today, but maybe I can squeeze in a few recordings. Wednesday’s wide open, so maybe I’ll actually get my act together then. Maybe.

And as always — I’ll throw this out there again — any requests? Now’s the moment to speak up and say, “Hey how about some more Herman’s Hermits,” or “Hit me with some Dave Clark Five,” or “Do you have (insert obscure group here that only three people on Earth remember)?”

Otherwise it’s up to me… and you know what happens when it’s up to me. I might go down some weird direction that makes you pull out your hair and run screaming into the night like you just witnessed the Exorcist.

So what do you do on a Sunday morning with no gospel 45s ready? Easy — doo‑wop R&B and a Vee Jay promo. I always pick up obscure Vee Jay stuff, and finding a promo feels like winning a tiny lottery only record nerds understand. Someday maybe I’ll luck into a Beatles Vee Jay promo to go with my two Capitol “real” Beatles promos. A man can dream. And I do. Loudly.