Country Artist Jones Gets Behind Water
Ambrose
"edonline" <edonlineSPAMOUT!@comcast.net> wrote in message
news:e8se601l7hd8o12hn...@4ax.com...
> http://www.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml?type=musicNews&storyID=4677792
>
> Country Artist Jones Gets Behind Water
> Sat Mar 27, 2004 08:13 PM ET
>
> By Phyllis Stark
>
> NASHVILLE (Billboard) - Country icon George Jones is introducing his
> own brand of bottled drinking water, George Jones' White Lightning
> Tennessee Spring Water.
>
> The product is named after Jones' 1959 No. 1 hit "White Lightning."
>
> The water is the latest entry in Jones' line of food products, which
> includes sausages, biscuits and sauces branded with the artist's name.
> The products are available in more than 5,000 U.S. grocery stores.
>
> In April the line will grow to include precooked sausage links and
> bacon.
>
> The water initially will be sold at grocery and convenience stores
> throughout the Southeastern United States. Pumped from a natural
> spring in rural Tennessee, it is bottled by Hohenwald, Tenn.-based
> Sweetwater Corp.
>
> Williams Sausage distributes the water, as well as Jones' breakfast
> food and sauce products.
>
> Jones recently recorded with Jerry Lee Lewis in Memphis for Lewis'
> upcoming duets album.
>
> Reuters/Billboard
As far as I know I'm the only alcoholic of Charles Bukowski proportions
here, so I'm probably the only one in this newsgroup who knows where to go
in most cities get actual home made white liquor. Not proud of it, but back
when I was doing serious drinking and got to the point where Everclear
wasn't strong enough the 190+ proof home made stuff was about the only way I
could keep a buzz. Say, I was finishing a gig and I had money for a
kitchenette motel and maybe three gallons of white liquor and maybe ten
cases of Olympia, some Cheez Whiz, Deviled ham and soda crackers. That's all
I would need. Once in a while there was a girl who could drink seriously
with me for a week or two without trying to stab me because she believed I
was a demon from hell.
There was one with me on a real bender. And I was drinking and staring
at TV when she fell asleep and when she woke up and I was still awake
drinking and I was watching The Price is Right and laughing at Bob Barker's
jokes, and for four or five days we went through the same routine, and after
the fifth or sixth day, not only had I not slept yet, but I was catching my
second wind, and I got shaved and showered and suggested we go roller
skating or to Tower because I had a sudden desire to buy some Ernest Tubb
cassettes and after we went back to the motel and I played Ernest and I sang
along and I knew all the words, and I tried to get her to sing along, but
she kept having to run to the bathroom to throw up, and she was suffering
bloody diarrhea because her guts were so burned from the white lightning.
And just when she thought she was going to die, I got a burst of energy
and insisted we go two-stepping or somewhere I could slam dance, which
resulted in my being arrested for slamming several people unconscious. And
when they released me, I insisted on a road trip to Vegas, and we rode
through the desert in my un-air-conditioned Plymouth Fury, and I played the
kill a can of beer before the next mile marker game, and I insisted she
drink along, and then we got to Vegas, and I tried to get her to sample
everything on the buffet, because it was so cheap, and then after some
gambling and visiting some of my more repulsive friends in town, I insisted
we renew our vows at one of those little wedding chapels where the minister
was wall-eyed and smelled of winter-green Lifesavers and the music was Three
Little Fishes in a Itty Bitty Pool. Looking in each others eyes, we said our
vows, and I put the Masonic ring I won in a card game on her finger because
I still hadn't gotten around to getting her a real wedding ring.
Well, I know she thought I was from hell, but we had our moments, like
when I dedicated songs to her, or those nights, those long, long after
midnight nights when we lay entwined on cheap motel sheets, our skin covered
with pearls of sweat, our mouths hungry, seeking, our bodies pasted
together, and afterward, when we lay in the dark, talking about our hopes,
sharing the dreams we could never tell anyone else, there were fleeting
moments when we almost merged into being one person.
And somehow, I know she hasn't forgotten that I wrote her one the best
songs I ever wrote. She stuck it out with me for nearly four years. She was
a tough girl. She deserved better. I hope she's happy.
Ambrose