Both Halves of the 20th Century

Last night, The Great Plotnik thought he and Ducknik would just be listening to the music of the first half of the Twentieth Century: Irving Berlin's 'White Christmas' at the Orpheum Theatre. True, the show started slow but in the Second Act exploded to a finale like they just don't write anymore. Songs like 'Blue Skies,' 'How Deep is The Ocean,' and of course 'White Christmas,' a love story where you actually care about the people, and -- Plottie wouldn't lie to you -- actual snow falling in the theatre when Grandpa throws open the barn doors. He and Ducknik defy anyone to leave this show not smiling. They smiled all the way home, and were still smiling when they parked the car in front of their house. But the finale was just beginning.

"What's that noise?" said Ducknik, as she stood on the curb.

Plotnik got out of the car: "It's just a party somewhere down the block. They're playing...I think it's 'Brown Sugar.' The Stones."

They walked in the front door. The music was getting louder. They walked out on the back deck. "Wow," Plotnik said. "Now it's 'Satisfaction.' That party is really getting louder...wait a minute...we can't possibly be hearing...this loud...could it be..."

It was. To their amazement and glee, Plotnik and Ducknik could hear the Stones' concert at SBC Park as loud as if they were two doors down. It made no sense -- The Great Plotnik World Headquarters and Meatball Kitchen is at least four miles from the stadium. Sound carries up, but this far? If Plot and Duck could hear the music, it must have been audible to half a million others all over the city. How could a band play that loud?

Easy. They're old. They can't hear squat.

Who cares? Ducknik poured a big, fat glass of Maker's Mark and brought it out to the deck.

'You Cain't Always Get What You Wa-a-a-ant!' '

Yes you can. Plotnik went to the freezer and grabbed a frozen Snickers.

'I Can't Get No...Satisfaction!'

Oh, yeah. So The Great Plotnik and The Great Ducknik put their feet up on their deck, Orion in the sky, almost full moon overhead, and listened to the music of the second half of Twentieth Century. By the time Mick got to 'Jumping Jack Flash' a good half hour had passed and there wasn't a lick Plotnik and Ducknik hadn't loved for 35 years.

"How can Keith still be alive?" Duck asked.

"How can the band still sound that good? From this far away?"

Later, lying in bed, Plotnik said "White Christmas was fantastic too. Irving Berlin and Mick Jagger in the same night. How good is this?"

Next question: why would anyone live anyplace else but here?