Drunks are funny...especially when you're sober. Sometimes they are ha-ha funny, mostly they are sad / funny. But last night, it was downright film noir / surreal funny.

Two musical acquaintances were in town last night (in Lincoln, Nebraska - no way that ever happens): Patrice Pike and David Zollo. Patrice (I've mentioned here before) played an acoustic set up the strip while David, and his trio, were set up at Duffy's. Patrice is an excellent talent - you listen and wonder where in this woman this enormous power, sincerity and voice generates.

David's music is equally powerful, but for a completely different reason. His trio plays piano led blues and southern rock with the energy and fire that makes unsuspecting members of the crowd holler out (much to their surprise)...with smiles and hip shakes from places deep within their musical soul. In the same reason the Brothers Robinson tried to reminded us what rock really meant, Zollo connects...barefoot and happy behind a Wurlitzer and a grin. The reaction from the crowd after the cheeky "While You Undress" gathered this response, "Well, damn. That's more than hospitable, that's down right rowdy!"

Alright, confession time. Historically, I've never watched "reality TV," but I'm caught up in this Joe Millionaire web. Yeah, I felt duped on Monday night - but a nationwide boycott the final show? Are you f'n nuts? Why else did I waste 6 (or so) nights of my life...so I can have Debi in the next cube tell me what happened? Hell, no. I'm gonna see him pick...I'm gonna see Zora cry...I'm gonna see Sarah say, "You're not a what?"...I'm gonna see Sarah slam him and leave.

And I'm gonna see the after-show where all the women call him names...and see their jaws drop when Fox gives him a check for 5 million dollars.