From a friend:

As a bagpiper, I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man who had no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a new cemetery way back in the hills and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost and being a typical man, did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late.

I saw the backhoe and the crew who were eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.

I apologized to the workers for my tardiness and stepped to the side of the open grave where I saw the vault lid already in place.

I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, but this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I played out my heart and soul.

As I played the workers began to weep. I played and I played like I'd never played before, from Going Home and The Lord is My Shepherd to Flowers of the Forest. I closed the lengthy session with Amazing Grace and walked to my car.

As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, "Sweet Jeezuz, Mary 'n Joseph, I have never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."

You have no idea how close to the truth this is.

I'll explain tomorrow because I'm too tired tonight...

Dave (imported) wrote: Mon Sep 21, 2009 8:38 pm You have no idea how close to the truth this is.

I'll explain tomorrow because I'm too tired tonight...

Hurry and Wake UP, Dave.

Never buy an autistic kid a set of bag pipes. My neighbor bought some for her son. He played and played. Eventually someone turned the kid onto pot. THANK GOD. That was twenty five years ago. He still lives with his mom but instead of blowing his bag pipes he sucks his pot pipe and the neighborhood is peaceful ever after.

"Everythings better with a bag of Weed"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgcaUsnpToQ

chilli-

Let me start off with the statement that there is no place in a marching band for a keyboard player. At least before MOOG, there wasn't even a one in a million chance. So you're truly took up bagpipes and found the fingerings easy and the memorization easy. the marching, well, that worked too.

So I get a call the summer before my third year. The Pipe Major needs a piper to play at Freshman camp. Now I hadn't practiced because I was working out of town and didn't take the pipes on vacation. So we spend three hours playing in the parking lot at the college getting the pipes and lips and fingers in shape. And then, we drive an hour to get to the Camp Whatsa-Matta-With-You (not the real name) and find a way to change from street clothes into Kilt, spats, plaid (that big cape like thing) caps, badges, flashes, hose tops, skean dhu, dirk, sporan and all that stuff. then drive to where the freshmen are doing things outside.

Yes by this time it was dark. So Chuck and I are standing in the parking lot getting ready to march across a field and we need fifteen minutes to retune the pipes. There are four reeds in bagpipes -- three drones and one chanter. The chanter is in the hands and produces melody and the drones rest in the tubes on your shoulder. The "AIR" is supplied by blowing into a "goose" made of sheep skin under your left arm and squeezing it against your side. THese are important details. And we played war-pipes not parlor-pipes. That's like big, loud and obnoxious versus small, loud and obnoxious.

After all that work, we start to play "Scotland the Brave" and march across the field in tune and walk through a mist. Well the pipes just go so far out of key with each other and themselves that when we stop at the Freshmen, the people who are supposed to hear this, it's like the worst of atonal music gone into blackboard scratching... The Pipe Major talks and describes some of the uniform and Andrew Carnegie (our namesake) and then announces a rather complex pair of songs that he knew (I didn't, but I could stand there looking pretty)... I knew he couldn't take the off-key sound more than the march into the crowd. The freshmen liked it.

When he is done, we go to march off to "Scotland the Brave" and as I strike the goose to start my pipes, a drone reed falls into the goose and the pipes go limp, impossible to play. Since we were marching away, I just march and pretend. Who the hell was going to see.

Chuck and I get back to his car, open the trunk and start to pack the pipes. He asks what happened and I rather colorfully tell him about the reed. I was so disgusted, that I took of the plaid (That cape thing) the doublet (jacket), the sporan and the Kilt and lay them in the trunk. I'm standing there in t-shirt and tighty-whiteys and Chuck says -- "you can't stand there in your underwear." I said "BET ME! curse curse curse"... and proceeded to remove the spats and shoes and pull my pants on. I don't think anyone else but poor Chuck was around to see that display of anger and frustration.

Six hours for one song. Remember, if a piper tells you that he has been playing twenty years, ten have been spent tuning up and the other ten have been spent playing off key.

Hurry and Wake UP, Dave.

Are you a Scot? If so, shame on you for inflicting that cruelty on dead sheepskins and reeds...;);)

There is nothing wrong with the pipes or the Scott's but there are other country's that love the pipes.

Just to let you know I am very proud of the different bloods that I have all 57 of them and I am most proud of the Scottish and I really hate saying this at least one Frenchman got in there several generations back and some of those trees come from a single branch.

Which should remind us that.

Nobody is perfect.

River

If memory serves me, the Bagpipes were invented in Ireland then brought to the Scots.

Yes, Dave, I'm a proud Scot. My Scot ancestors were part of the Highland MacDonalds.

As far as sheepskin goes, this wolf only chases attractive maidens (age 18-30) wearing sheepskin minis

Then the Scot's brought us golf, how luck we are.

Pipes and clubs

River

l will learn the pipes!!! In fact, I will be the best. Yes, the most famous bag piper on the planet. I will play them morning, noon and night. I will play them during board games, football games, and head games. I will play at the board-room, the head-board and the foot-board. I am determined. I will play and the people will come. They will come for miles when they hear me suck. I will suck and suck and suck. I will go to class where my passion to suck and blow will be nutured. When times are good I will suck and blow. When they are bad I will suck and blow harder. I will suck and blow in my sleep. Indeed, the minute my head hits the pillow or the peace to lips I will begain to suck and blow! Yes, the people will love me. I will never let them down. When all else fails they can come, and see me play! My mind is made up, I will throw down my arms, reclassify and join the Scottish Military Marching Band.

besides...my butt hurts

chilli-