Bee's brother said, “But Mama, he used a fucking nail!”
Bee can tell a joke better than anybody I know. He really gets into it.
BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI, is one of my favorite places. I was in the air force there in 1950. I fell in love with Mississippi—Gulfport, Biloxi—and the whole coastal area.
I first saw Dave Gardner in a place called Gustevens in Gulfport. Back in those days, Biloxi and Gulfport were big gambling towns. They still are, maybe more, now that all the casinos are legal.
Air force days
I was stationed at Kessler AFB for a while. I played at the Airmen's Club, a club for the enlisted personnel at Kessler. I had a lot of fun playing around Biloxi, but I didn't really like the military life. It didn't take long for me to realize that I wasn't cut out for it. But, I still love Biloxi.
Protest Song
I WROTE “JIMMY'S ROAD” when my friend and bass player, David Zettner, was drafted into the army during the Vietnam War. I could have called it “David's Road,” but “Jimmy's Road” sounded more euphonious. Thank you, Chet Atkins, for that big word. He said that one time about some line I had written. At the time I didn't know what it meant—words that go together—but I said, “Alright Chet, thanks.” I was relieved to find out later it was a good thing.
Jimmy's Road
This is Jimmy's road
Where Jimmy liked to play
And this is Jimmy's grass
Where Jimmy liked to lay around
This is Jimmy's tree
That Jimmy liked to climb
Then Jimmy went to war
And something changed his mind around
This is the battleground
Where Jimmy learned to kill
Now Jimmy has a trade
And Jimmy knows it well—too well
This is Jimmy's grave
Where Jimmy's body lies
And when a soldier falls
Jimmy's body dies—and dies
But this was Jimmy's road
Where Jimmy liked to play
And this is Jimmy's grass
Where Jimmy liked to lay around
I think tonight we're playing at the Grand Casino, and it will finally be warm. I'm sick of all the cold and rain. I've had a couple of relapses trying to play golf in that kind of weather. This will give you an idea of how smart I am: If I had to work outside in that mess I would bitch and moan, but there's something about golf that makes idiots of us all I suppose.
Rainy Day Blues
Well it's cloudy in the morning
Gonna be raining in the afternoon
I said it's cloudy in the morning
Gonna be raining in the afternoon
And if you don't like this rainy weather
You better pack your bags and move
But if you're running from it, brother
The only road that I can see
If you're running from it, brother
The only road that I can see
Is the road that leads to nowhere
And nowhere is a fool like me
Rain keep a-falling
Falling on my window pane
Rain keep a-falling
Falling on my window pane
Never seen so much rainy weather
Guess I'll never see the sun again
Better save those dimes and nickels
Save 'em for a rainy day
You'd better save your dimes and nickels
Save 'em for a rainy day
It ain't gonna keep the rain from coming
But at least you know you've paid your way
THESE GUYS WERE playing golf one day when a funeral passed by on the road next to the golf course. One of the players took off his hat and waited until the funeral procession passed. One of his fellow golfers said, “John, that's mighty respectable of you to do that.”
The guy said, “It's the least I can do for her. We would have been married twenty years today.”
11:45 P.M., May 3
THIS WAS A DAY OFF IN BILOXI. It turned into a long drive from Richmond. I spent the day, well what's left of it (we didn't get here until four), swimming a little, running a little, and practicing my tae kwan do. David Anderson and I walked next door to the Waffle House before watching the last of the Mavericks basketball game. What a game! The Mavericks pulled it out after being down seventeen points at halftime. I was happy for Don Nelson and the Mavericks. Don and I are very good friends. He has a house in Maui and we have some fun poker games at my place on Monday nights. He's a wonderful person and I'm proud to call him my friend.
David Anderson is my long-time trusted friend and employee, whose talents are many and who does so many different things well, from computers to settling up with the promoter. His birthday is just before mine, so he always manages to get overlooked. He wants it that way, but happy birthday, David. I don't know how old he is but he was a child when he came to work for us, and he's no child today. None of us are. The road has a way of aging you a little faster.
David and I cowrote a song together.
My Broken Heart Belongs to You
I lost my mind so long ago
I wanted everyone to know
I wanted everyone to see
My broken heart belongs to me
I'd go beyond the thought of you
And a broken heart was nothing new
I wanted everyone to see
My broken heart belonged to me
And now that autumn fills the air
I feel your presence everywhere
Now my fears are coming true
My broken heart belongs to you
Talked to Ray Price today. We're going into the studio this Monday to do another album. I'm sure looking forward to that. He's still the best singer in country music. He wants to do an album of songs written by Texas writers and call it “The Texas Album.” We'll certainly have a lot of writers to choose from: Floyd Tillman, Leon Payne, Lefty Frizzell, Bob Wills, and many, many more. We'll record it at World Headquarters in Luck, the same place we recorded Rainbow Connection. It's a small, all-digital studio, and the sound is fantastic.
12:29 A.M., May 4, same night, next day (I know, it's complicated. Just don't think about it.)
GOOD NIGHT.
Sunday, May 7, 12:25 A.M.
JUST FINISHED PLAYING MEMPHIS. We played a huge festival right downtown. Bob Dylan was playing a mile down the street on another stage, right after the Black Crowes. What a hot crowd!
I also went into the studio this afternoon with T. G. Sheppard and recorded a song called “It's Texas.” I liked the song, and T. G. and his folks were very nice. I also did a radio interview with a station here in Memphis. They had an advance copy of Rainbow Connection and say they like it.
On our way to Austin for a couple of days off before we go into the studio again with Ray Price …
DID YOU HEAR the one about Billy Roy the cabin boy?
The dirty little ripper
He lined his ass with broken glass
And circumcised the skipper
Or,
My name is Joe Bailey
My dick is a whalie
and my balls weigh ninety-four pounds
If you know a lady
who wants a nice baby
just tell her Joe Bailey's in town
I'M SORRY, but if I go ahead and get them all out, maybe I won't think of them again. I've got to remember to call preacher Gerald Mann tomorrow. He always has a couple of good jokes for me. Joke-telling is therapeutic in a sick kind of way. Laughter is still the best medicine.
If you ain't crazy, there's something wrong with you.
WE JUST PASSED Little Rock, Arkansas, and that should put us in Austin about noon tomorrow or today, depending on how you look at your watch. It's already tomorrow, but it's still tonight.
No Tomorrow in Sight
The children are sleeping
Our talk can begin
We've waited until they've gone to bed
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We knew they would cry
When we said goodbye
And I'd rather leave quietly instead
We can never be happy
We both know it's true
We've quarrelled from the day that we met
Our love was too weak
To pull our dreams through
But too strong to let us forget
I hope we can salvage a few memories
To carry us through the long nights
The clock's striking midnight
Yesterday's gone and there's no tomorrow in sight
In our efforts to break through
The thick walls of pride
With harsh words that burned to the core
The walls still remain
But the words broke inside
And strengthened the walls even more
I hope we can salvage a few memories
To carry us through the long nights
The clock's striking midnight
Yesterday's gone and there's no tomorrow in sight
I wrote that way back in the early '60s. Very few people have even heard it because sad songs and waltzes weren't selling that year.
Sad Songs and Waltzes
I'm writing a song all about you
A true song as real as my tears
But you've no need to fear it
For no one will hear it
Cause sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year
I'll tell all about how you cheated
I'd like for the whole world to hear
I'd like to get even
With you cause you're leaving
But sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year
It's a good thing that I'm not a star
You don't know how lucky you are
Though my record may say it
No one will play it
Cause sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year
Both of these songs put together probably sold about four copies. That's not the important thing. To me, just getting the words out of my head and onto paper was an exercise worth performing. Those kinds of thoughts left bottled up inside can do more damage than good, and can probably cause everything from cancer to heart break. Sometimes just saying the words can cause some kind of healing to begin. But if you sing those songs every night year after year, I believe you can also prevent a total healing because you're always opening old wounds.
So what's the answer? Who knows. If you have a hit with a sad song, just remember when you wrote it, it was for you. When you sing it over and over and over, it's for the benefit of the listener. Don't let it spoil an otherwise good night. Attempt to sing the song for the audience, and try not to get too involved in it yourself. It's a very thin line, and a lot easier said than done.
Sometimes I believe the reason a lot of country singers and writers have gone off the deep end was because they could not find that thin line, and could never fully recover from the evening that caused them to write the song in the beginning. Hank Williams, Floyd Tillman, George Jones, Lefty Frizzell, and myself included, could in some way be victims of our own words.
Man with the Blues
If you need some advice in being lonely
If you need a little help in feeling blue
If you need some advice on how to cry all night
Come to me, I'm the man with the blues
I'm the man with a hundred thousand heartaches
And I've got most every color of the blues
So if you need a little shove in foulin' up in love
Come to me, I'm the man with the blues
I'm the man with a hundred thousand teardrops
And I've got a good selection old and new
If you need some advice in being lonely
If you need a little help in feeling blue
If you need some advice on how to cry all night
Come to me, I'm the man with the blues
You Ought to Hear Me Cry
If you think I laugh louder than anyone here
If you think that my volume's too high
If you think I laugh loud
You ain't heard nothing yet
You ought to hear me cry
I go home to a home where love's almost gone
Not enough to fill one needle's eye
Then I sit down in a corner
And I turn on the tears
And you ought to hear me cry
If you think I talk louder than maybe I should
Well, I guess I'm that kind of guy
But if I talk loud and laugh loud
You ain't heard it all
You ought to hear me cry
Slow Down Old World
Slow down, slow down
Old world, there's no hurry
'Cause my life ain't mine anymore
I lived too fast
Now it's too late to worry
And I'm too blue to cry anymore
I once was a fool for the women
Now I'm just a fool, nothing more
So slow down, slow down
Old world, there's no hurry
'Cause my life ain't mine anymore
I once had a way with the women
Till one got away with my heart
So slow down, slow down
Old world there's no hurry
'Cause my life ain't mine anymore
And here's a little toe-tapper …
I Just Can't Let You Say Goodbye
I had not planned on seeing you
I was afraid of what I'd do
But pride is strong, here am I
And I just can't let you say goodbye
Please have no fear, you're in no harm
As long as you're here in my arms
But you can't leave so please don't try
But I just can't let you say goodbye
What force behind your evil mind
Can let your lips speak so unkind
To one who loves as much as I
But I just can't let you say goodbye
The flesh around your throat is pale
Indented by my fingernails
Please don't scream and please don't cry
'Cause I just can't let you say goodbye
Your voice is still, it speaks no more
You'll never hurt me anymore
Death is a friend to love and I
'Cause now you'll never say goodbye
BEE MAN WAS BACK TONIGHT! The doctors say all the tests were negative, and in medical testing, negative is good. It seems like it should be the other way around. Negative is bad. Positive is good. Oh well, I hope they know what the hell they're doing. I wonder if a doctor would ever tell his patient to think positive? Hell, in medical terms, that could maybe kill you. I never could understand why an airport is called a terminal. Terminal sounds bad to me. Terminal sounds negative as hell. It's way too deep a subject for such a shallow mind, so let's move on.
THE DOCTORS CAME in and told the patient, “Got some good news, and some bad news. Which do you want first?”
The guy said, “Tell me the bad news first.”
The doc said, “You have an incurable disease and you'll probably be dead in three weeks.”
The guy said, “What in the hell is the good news?”
The doctor said, “Did you see that good-looking blond nurse when you came into the office?”
The guy said yes.
The doctor said, “Well I'm fucking her.”
2:10 A.M., same night, next day
I'M GOING TO BED TO TRY AND SLEEP this off. Maybe I'll wake up with a clean mind, or maybe I won't. I'll be happy just to wake up. Remember, halitosis is better than no breath at all. Thank you, Lord, for making me your guinea pig. I guess you wanted to see how sick and perverted one son of a bitch can be. I'll try not to disappoint you. 'Nite all …
P.S. THE BAD part about smoking weed …
It's too expensive. It costs more than gold.
Over usage will cause you to get bronchitis.
You'll smell like a skunk.
Everytime someone says anything negative about smoking pot, you become somewhat hostile and start yakking about how hemp could save the world, and you start quoting page after page of The Emperor Wears No Clothes, and you wind up only sounding like a pothead trying to justify your habit.
My advice would be to just cut back and shut up. Amen.
AND OH, yeah—
5. It's still illegal.
So when someone tells you there's nothing wrong with smoking pot, tell them to kiss your ass 'cause you know better. But it's still the best natural medicine in the world. So use it, don't abuse it.
GOD HAS BLESSED you richly, so get down on your knees and thank Him. Don't forget the less fortunate or God will personally kick your ass. I'd love to do it for Him, but I can't be everywhere.
Amen.
TWO THINGS I can't stand. One is somebody standing there with a cigarette hanging out of their mouth and a glass of whiskey in one hand, saying how bad smoking pot is for you, and the other is a fat doctor telling you not to run because it can be hard on your knees. These are some of the guys who are in for a divine butt-kicking.
And as my first wife, Martha, used to say, “Don't worry about a thing 'cause there ain't nothing going to be alright.” Hence the title of my book, The Facts of Life and Other Dirty Jokes, and don't forget the words from the gospel according to Hank Williams, “I'll never get out of this world alive.”
3:05 A.M
OK. 1-2-3, everybody sleep.
POODIE SAYS IT'S ALRIGHT TO STEP ON YOUR DICK, JUST DON'T STAND ON IT.
1:45 A.M., May 12
JUST FINISHED A FUN GIG in Marksville, Louisiana, maybe one of our best. I also just finished the Ray Price album. It came out so good! I can tell you Ray is singing so fine you won't believe it. Only five weeks ago at Red's hospital, Hermann Hospital, in Houston, he was split down the middle for an aneurism. A few miracles later he is singing his ass off at World Headquarters in Luck, with Dr. Red Duke standing there listening to every note. I said it before and I'll say it again: Ray Price is the greatest country singer ever, period.
The Facts of Life Page 11