By Slim Man
I do a lot of driving. Most musicians I know do. It’s part of the job. I don’t mind driving, especially in California. I’m from back east, and driving there ain’t quite as beautiful. No offense to the New Jersey Turnpike, but if I had to choose between driving on the east coast and driving on the west coast, I’ll take the west coast, thank you.
I’m new out here. I’m still amazed that you can leave Palm Springs (which is a desert) and be on a beautiful beach in 2 hours. You can be on snow-capped mountains in 90 minutes. And people out here get in fistfights over which is the best route to take. It’s a California thing.
I recently drove from Palm Springs to San Juan Capistrano to play the KSBR Birthday Bash. It was held in a big park. There were probably 1500 people there. They had a big stage, a Jumbotron above it, and to the side of the stage, there was a small tent, and a large fenced-in area where the musicians could hobnob.
KSBR is a radio station that plays jazz, and they have an annual fundraiser. All the musicians play for free. At least that’s what they told me!
I got there around 3:30. There were probably 30 or so musician-types standing in the field, chatting and chewing and chugging–guitarists Peter White and Chris Standring, vocalist Maysa (my fellow Baltimorean), sax man Michael Lington–lots of jazz guys and gals were hanging out.
Everybody did a song or two. I did one song, “Kiss” by Prince. Marc Antoine, my goodest buddy, played guitar, nylon string. He killed it. Slamalammin’!
When I got to the line “You don’t have to watch Dynasty, to have an attitude,” I changed it to “You don’t have to watch Duck Dynasty, to have an attitude” which I thought was hilarious, but what the hell do I know?
We closed the show with “What’s Goin’ On” by Marvin Gaye, I sang. All the musicians came on stage and jammed. Everybody who had stayed, played.
The next day, I drove back to Palm Springs. I was listening to an interview on the radio, and I heard someone say, “I hope he wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass.”
Some people I know have Attention Deficit Disorder—they have difficulty concentrating. I have the opposite, Attention Surplus Syndrome. You know the acronym. I think about things way too long.
I started thinking about “blowing smoke up my ass.” What was the origin of that expression? Where the hell did that come from?
I mean, when someone says, “I hope they’re not pulling the wool over my eyes,” I understand where that came from. You have a knit hat on, and someone pulls it over your eyes so you can’t see what’s going on. I get it.
But, in the history of the world, when would anybody ever have the occasion to…well, blow smoke up someone’s patootie? How did that phrase ever get started?
“Excuse me, I just took a puff off this cigar, would you mind if I blow some smoke up your butt?”
Maybe two cavemen were sitting around the cave. Perhaps they had just discovered fire, and after the smoke started billowing, one says to the other, “I’m bored. Maybe I should blow some smoke up your keister.”
Was it a firefighter’s expression? A chimneysweep? Some crazed crackhead?
I thought about it for the rest of the way home. My affliction was in full effect.
When I got back to the Slim Shack, I had to look it up.
Well, Slim People, I read on the Internet that in the 1700s, doctors came up with the idea to revive people who had drowned by blowing tobacco smoke up someone’s butt. They used a bellows, thank goodness.
It turned out to be a big scam, and hence the expression.
I read it on the Internet, so it must be true.
I hope they weren’t just blowing smoke up my…acronym.
Who loves ya?
Uncle Slimmy
Slim Man is playing Woody’s Palm House in Palm Springs on Wednesday, July 27th, and has a new cookbook, Slim Man Cooks, available at slimman.com
