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Road Reports By Steven Sweet - Red Rock , OK April 2009  E-mail
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"THE SWEET SPOT"

Steven Sweet Road Report: 7 Clans Paradise Casino, Red Rock, OK.

 

The date? I don't remember and really don't feel like retracing my mental steps at this point to write it down here. Because after all, in the grand scheme of things does it really matter what number the calendar read when the happenings of this report took place - or is it enough to just sit back, relax (perhaps with your favorite hot tea, ice cream... jerky? my favorite's "Bridgeford Farms" Smoked Squirrel, 'case you're wondering) and read on in sublime leisure.

 

Oh yes, welcome back for another fresh-steamed literary platter of random imaginings from my personal recollective experiences of Rock N Roll travelogging with Warrant. This time the big jet bird took us to Oklahoma (... again) to a wonderfully rain-soaked suburb of Oklahoma City, called Red Rock, where, once again, they've erected a casino seemingly in the middle of this great Country of ours (ha, some of you might have thought I was going to say "nowhere" as in the middle of...). (Strange, that last sentence was randomly placed in the middle of parenthesis brackets... as was this one!?) NO, I would never refer to any locale in all of these United States as the middle of nowhere because that would be like proclaiming that all of us in the good ole U. S. of (freakin') A actually live IN "Nowhere". As a proud native United States-ian, (NOT Native American) I will tell you that the Natives are ALWAYS restless and this evening I am about to tell you of was no exception. Now let me set the mood for you, after a 1 plus something hour drive from our home-base in Oklahoma City, we arrive at the "7 Clans Paradise Casino" (Not to be confused with the 7 CLAMS Paradise Casino on the Atlantic City Boardwalk, next to but enormously overshadowed by, Trumps). The casino is nothing to sneeze at unless of course, you happen to be suffering from a nasty head cold and facing in the general direction of the casino, then there' s just not a whole lot else that you can do. Full of the usual smoking, gambling, drinking, buffet-eating (tonight was "Sea food" buffet night - just like "7 Clams", come to think of it), ATM-bleeding, risk-taking, casino-thrill-seekers (and a whole slew of other un-mentional hyphenates)- but with one added twist... they were drawn out into the elements by a common primal need to hear some good old fashioned, melodic rock. Tonight's bill consisted of Great White (Unfortunately it WASN'T Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, but damned if we didn't all just want to pretend anyways), and Skid Row making a Rock and Roll sandwich with Warrant as the meat in the middle ("... did he really say "meat in the middle"?) YES HE DID (er, I did!) and He's (I mean I'm) not afraid to say it again, don't temp me (HIM!!!) I mean ME!!!

 

The big problem as I saw it, and anyone who was there feel free to write in and add your 2 cents (Actually, I'm just saying that, don't write in because what's done is done, and there's no fooling mother nature)... yeah, the big problem was that the skies loomed heavy with storm clouds as the evening sun set nearing show time. There's no way to predict the weather no matter how we try, with our Doppler forecasts, Uncle's trick Knee that aches when the weather changes, watching the mating pattern of fire ants on the prairie kick into overdrive (just my little forecasting trick) to tell us whether a tent is going to leak or not. (WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN... you ask). I'll tell ya, I downed a 2 liter bottle of Niquil about a half an hour ago (it's Monday evening so what the hell right?) and I'm waxing prophetic (or as I once said many, many years ago when responding to something Jani Lane said) feeling "Full-a-Shitacle". The rain just came anyway, as if to say, here's what you get for making fun of our Rain Dancing, and our Casinos in the middle of no..., I mean, EVERYwhere, and for bringing your Devil's music to our sacred lands and corrupting the people with your messages of "Swinging it to the left, and swinging it to the right". As the slot machines poured out their war cries and the roulette table rattled it's hypnotic, red, black, red, black, red, black,... occasional green, then red, black, red, black again all the while pretending to be our friend - When all along you could have just gone to Best Buy and purchased a Plasma instead of second-hand smoking for hours on end only to wind up penniless and Plasma-less.  Why is that? (Rhetorical question, don't answer, don't write back, just ponder)

 

Meanwhile back at the tent-site... (oh yeah, they had erected a giant Circus tent - see road report about "Lucky Star Casino" - I just wanted to type Circus tent again) it was raining like cats and dogs but not just any ordinary cats and dogs like people always say, but like big genetically mutated, perhaps by gestating in close proximity to a nuclear (NOT Nuke-you-ler) reactor and overgrown, Saber-toothed uber-cats. I'm talkin' hard rain. It was also a little cold, so cold even the toughest nipples stood at attention for fear of being told to "drop and give me twenty" by a manicly overbearing drill sergeant. The entire set I felt like I was being subjected to some sort of Chinese Water Torture because there was this ONE DRIP of water coming through a pin hole in the tent roof above that kept hitting me square on the right shoulder - no matter how I shifted on my drum seat, it kept pelting me insistently in the same place at about a 30 second interval. DROP, DROP, DROP... for a half an hour I was poked by drops of water. Now you might think that this is no big deal, "what are you complaining about, you're sweating anyway, aren't you"? Yeah, but the difference is (well, there are several) that my sweat is warm, for one, and two, it doesn't hit me in the same place like a poking finger for a half an hour straight as if to say, "HEY YOU... you're not busy are ya? you don't mind my reminding you that it's raining outside, oh, let's say... every thirty seconds??? DO YA! HUH, HUH, HUUUUHHHHHH????!!! Besides, I'm made of water soluble material and might be reduced to nothing more than a pool of ectoplasm on the drum stool if subjected to too much rain water, as in this case. ( I know that's all B.S. - I'm actually made up of mostly water as are all of you - don't be scared it's perfectly normal, this is a well established biological fact - look it up).

 

Sorry to do this to you, but my daughter is looming about and it's her "Shower" time, I think she just read this last bit and got a little worried (no, not about dissolving in the shower) but that her dad might be a little crazy, so I must see to it that I confirm this fact with her (no, not that I'm crazy) but that it's time for her to take her shower - so, gotta go - thanks for reading and look forward to our next story time!

Nite, nite - Steven

 



 
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