Seems like this whole town's insane

So, long story... I had just spent about twenty minutes fucking off at work, and by fucking off I mean sitting, alone, sheltered from the rain, but not the wind, watching dozens and dozens of geese gorging themselves on what smelled like shit, but looked a lot like wheat. The time had finally come for me to be done fucking off in that particular manner, so I put the forklift in gear a headed back for the shop. Halfway back to the shop, give a take a yard and a half, in pops "Sin City" to my head. It was like one of those epiphanies, those "moments of clarity" that alcoholics have. At the moment my brain and I weren't communicating through language, per se, but a rough translation into English might read something like "Holy Fuck! It's so fucking beautiful!""Sin City" is this song that I haven't listened to in so many decades, such an incredible duration that I had nearly forgotten about it. Although, at that moment it piped into my head pitch perfect, line for line in glorious stereo. But why wouldn't it live on unblemished in my lumpy head? A Country and Western duet by two indie darlings, no doubt topping no less than a half-dozen "guilty pleasures" lists penned by "hipster wannabes" on their "music blogs." I speak, of course, of none other than Mr. Dwight Yoakam and Ms. K.D. Lang.But seriously, kids, "Sin City" is a pretty remarkable song, originally a Graham Parsons tune, and performed by many others, none have, in my humble opinion, ever done it quite as well as Yoakam and Lang do it here. Go on, take a listen:Wonderful, no? Yeah, I know! But, its more than just the songs mere wonderfulity that made the moment so epiphanous. There is also, in fact, the fact that I have been working on a few mix cds for months, and it just so happens that this particular song works so much better in that one spot on that one disc than does that other song that I had in that spot. And that, my friends, is what you call the double-whammy. Not only was it requisite that I listen to the actual recording so as to be sure that I was not simply over beautifying it in my head, but I also needed to locate a digified version so I could make the in-progress mix cd more perfect."What luck!" I thought to myself, "I have nearly every Dwight Yoakam album right on my hard drive already." Although, at the time I was struck by a sort of curiosity as to why, if I did in fact already have the song on my compy, why had it been so long since I heard it? I couldn't be troubled by such trivialities at the time though, because, as you will remember, I was pretty busy fucking off at work.So, the next thing you know, it's five hours later and I'm at home. But, I've got other shit going on, you know, so, fast forward another couple hours. So I finally get all my other important matters tended to and I go about looking for the song, but damn if I can't find it. I start thinking maybe I've got the name wrong, I mean, the song's not really about a city, now is it? It's about a town, but "sin town" just doesn't really have that ring to it, now does it? "Fuck it," I say, I bet Encyclopedia Brown... no, that's not right... Allmusic! I bet allmusic can get to the bottom of this. So I check it out, find out that, as usual, I'm right and should never doubt myself. Unfortunately, the song never appeared on a proper album, just a greatest hits album, a greatest hits album that I had on cassette fifteen years ago, but not now. No, not now.So, damn, it's getting late, I've got work early in the morning, and I'm sure as hell not going to be able to sleep if I don't at least get to hear this fucking song tonight. No recourse other than a mad dash to the local dept. store. Fruitless! "Hey clerk, you got any Dwight Yoakam cds that might not be on the shelf here?" I ask the clerk. Well, whaddaya lookin' fer?" the clerk replies. "Well, good sir," I reply, "I'm looking for this greatest hits disc, it's called, 'Just Lookin' for a Hit'" So the dude walks over to where I'm standing, looks down at the Dwight Yoakam section, not the secret, "store-clerk only" Dwight Yoakam section, no, not that one, just the regular one, the one I was pointing at when I said, "Hey pal, you got any Dwight Yoakam CDs that might not be on the shelf here." He looks at that Dwight Yoakam section and says, "Well, yes sir, right here we have it, see, 'The Very Best of Dwight Yoakam.'" Although he presented the perfect opportunity for a "Fuck You Friday" moment, I instead thanked the young gentleman and, by talking to him, talked myself into going to Everyday Music.Everday Music is great. Really far and away my favorite music store in all of the world. So many orphaned cds just waiting to be mine for pennies on the dollar. Your kind of rolling the dice going to Everyday Music looking for Country & Western, though. They do have a Country & Western section, though, and when I arrived I made the proverbial bee-line. You can imagine my dismay when I reach the end of the rack and see that the section ends with Hank Williams III. That fucking hack! How the hell does he merit any space, but nobody X, Y, or Z does. An Abomination, truly.So I storm over to the man behind the counter and ask him where a weary man might find some Dwight Yoakam. He explained that X, Y, and Z were actually across the aisle, in the section marked "contemporary christian" (of course!), he didn't even screw his face and send bolts of you.are.a.fucking.MORON. from his eyes, which was a nice, unexpected treat.So things are looking up. I start digging through the stacks and stacks of cds and, whammo, a used copy of "Just Lookin' for a Hit." I'm feeling so good about it that I decide to pick up a copy of "The Very Best of Dwight Yoakam" just so I can give his version of "Suspicious Minds" a listen (I'm a big fan of Elvis' version, you see). What the hell, I figure, let's see if the got any Dwight on vinyl. No dice.So, I mosey back over to the rock side of the store and, just for kicks, check out the Babybird section. They've only got one disc, a promo copy of "Ugly Beautiful." They have had that disc, their only ever Babybird disc, for at least six years. It cracks me up, both at the time and now, as I'm typing this. It's just one of those funny things to me. Who knows? So anyways, on a complete fucking lark I walk over to the LPs to see if they have any Babybird, but I get distracted on the way by some other band that I am surprised they have 13 LPs of in stock. It's kind of weird that I can't remember what the name of that band is right now, but it might have something to do with the fact that I flipped back the "B" tab and HOLY FUCK!!! An original pressing of Baby Bird's "The Happiest Man Alive." You've got to be kidding me, really, in Portland, at Everyday Music? Six fucking dollars?!? Fuck, I could maybe find on on ebay for seventy-five, but here? now? why?I snatched up the album and pulled out the sleeve, both were in great condition, so I slid the disc out, expecting to find a crayon scarred copy of "Froggy Went A Courtin'" or a completely mangled Babybird record but no, the disc was fucking flawless. Unbelievable.I felt like a burglar while paying the doe-eyed blonde cashier, looking for signs of recognition and fighting the near irresistible urge to ask her where the fuck she got this record. "Bag! No I don't want no fucking bag, just let me the hell out of here," I didn't say just before I handed her exact change and burst out the door hoping to make it back to my car before anyone noticed that I had parked in front of a driveway.I realized that fate was smiling upon me that day when I got to my car and found it to be both still there, thus not towed, and unadorned with and fancy windshield fines. I cradled the fancy new LP in my lap on the drive home, took off my shirt and wrapped it around the cover so as to protect it from the rain as I walked back into my apartment. Once inside I unwrapped the protective flannel cover and gently stuffed the LP into an old paper box where it will now permanently reside, never again to be touched by human hands nor listened to by human ears, which is as it should be.