Skip to main content

EJ impersonator visits winery

Good Superbowl, yeah?  I was rooting for the Cardinals, of course, but it was a great game, down to the last seconds.

Last Friday, a man came into the winery looking very much like Elton John.  It wasn't, of course.  If anyone would know the real Elton, it would be me.  A few of the customers did double takes and we heard them whispering, "Is it really him?"  Personally, I figured the guy for a flaming, overzealous fan.  He had the orange-tinged helmet hair, jewelry, earring (although in the opposite ear worn by the real EJ) and even a slight gap between his front teeth, but no English accent and the wrong voice altogether.  Turns out he's worked as a body double for Elton for 17 years.  At least, that's what he claimed.  His stage name, as he referred to it, was Eldon John and he had a few autographed photos of himself to share.  I have an autograph from the real Elton, so some chicken scratches from an impostor did not interest me much.  My co-workers dug it, though.  One lady in the gift shop even took a picture of him holding her baby.  He was a nice enough fellow and I had a good time chatting with him.  One of his companions was a spacey, middle-aged blonde who didn't seem to grasp much of what was going on.
"Don't mind her," he said.  "She used to be friends with Jerry Garcia."  'Nough said, though it probably wasn't true.
Anyway, Eldon, a.k.a. Richard something-or-other, hails from Ferndale, California, in Humboldt County, which could also explain his friend.

One of the regular tour guides who brings vans to our winery vowed yesterday, "I'll never complain about the rain again."  It was pouring.  She takes visitors on bike rides in Volcanoes National Park and the air has been awful these past weeks.  Now, the trades are back and it's raining, but getting wet is apparently better than sucking sulphur dioxide fumes.  So when those are your only two choices, you learn to embrace the rain.

Little minnie Winnie is sitting in my lap right now.  She loves me.  Her big, fat brother, Mr. Sox, is on the couch at my side, snoozing.  He's still none too happy about sharing his digs with these upstarts.  

Hoppsy goes in for surgery tomorrow to remove a weird growth on her eyelid that the vet thought looked suspicious.  

Speaking of dogs, the state of Hawaii is considering a ban on Pit Bulls.  From what I've observed, that would wipe out about half the dog population here.  People are protesting, of course.  To me, it sounds like just another law they won't be able to enforce.  Does the state really have the manpower to go door to door to see if a pit bull lives there?  And if they find one, are they really going to make those residents euthanize the family pet?  Heck.  I would bet that half the cops on this island own pit bulls, along with their cousins, brothers, uncles and aunties.  Please.  Of course, a bill to hold pet owners responsible for their dog's actions died last year in committee.  Got forbid we should actually blame the responsible party here.  Let's just punish all the dogs for the irresponsible actions of a few bad humans.  

Who elected these people, anyway?   Shoots.  Maybe I did.  I don't remember anyone running on a 'No More Pit Bulls" platform.  Or a 'Let's pay the legislature a lot more money' platform either.  They recently voted themselves a 34% pay raise in the middle of a recession.  Time to kick their okoles out to the breadlines with the rest of us.

A hui hou.  Aloha!



 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fruity booty

It was a long drive from Glenwood to the northern tip of the island -- three hours -- so for sustenance, we stopped at Baker Tom's for malasadas on the way. My pal Kathy and I were headed to Kapa'au for a hike, one we'd read about in the local newspaper. The couple who run Baker Tom's (not sure if the husband is actually Tom or not) are delightful, with enduring stamina. They're as old as radio, yet they're always on duty, ready to serve behind the counter, as they have for many years, frying, baking, brewing and smiling, there in Papaikou , gateway to the Hamakua Coast. The malasadas are enormous, cheap and delicious, the coffee OK, the tourists all happy to have discovered this place, buzzing with sugar and caffeine. They make a killer pumpkin cheesecake at Baker Tom's, too. It's always a pleasant stop. Ahapua'a . It's a Hawaiian land division, usually a strip or wedge, stretching from mountain to sea. Hawaiians lived in villages wit
3 comments
Read more

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud
4 comments
Read more

On Tennis and Writing and Being Too Nice

I've recently been recruited to play tennis for a local 4.0 ladies tennis league team, referred to as either "Team Debbie" for the nice woman who manages us, or "Have Fun," which is our pre-match chant. We're still looking for a proper name. But we do have fun, despite getting creamed most outings. Last Saturday, we played in the Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium in Hilo. Good thing, too, since outside it was pouring, complete with thunder and lightning. It's a substantial structure, covered, yet open all around, most famous for hosting the annual Merrie Monarch Hula Festival in April. It was about 85 degrees outside and 100 percent humidity, air so thick it took three sucks of my albuterol inhaler just to breath. Several of us arrived early to warm up, but after twenty minutes' steady rallying with my teammate, Keiko, the human backboard, I was drenched. I played doubles with a nice, extremely fit and excellent ground-stroker named Cynthia from Pahoa.
4 comments
Read more