Tuesday, September 21, 2010

palm beach hillbillies

Come and listen to a story about a man named Jed
A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed,
Then one day he was shootin' at some food,
And up through the ground came a bubblin' crude.

Now I'm not from West Virginny, but sometimes I feel a little like a fish out of water as I try  to navigate my new surroundings.

Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea.

At least today I found the local Starbucks, although it is practically hidden behind the designer clothing stores on a Worth Avenue via. But it's Chai, not Texas, tea for me.

Well the first thing you know ol' Jed's a millionaire,
Kinfolk said Jed move away from there
Said Californy is the place you ought to be
So they loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly.
Hills, that is.

Far from a millionaire, but there are certainly plenty around to gawk at if I choose. No hills, unless you count sand dunes. Actually it's not all that different from living in Brooklyn, or New York or Washington, D.C. Well, maybe Brooklyn.

Swimmin' pools, movie stars.

Now a cement pond we got!


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