Sameish

Note Taped To Stall In Public Restroom At Corporation

Content? Gross.

Again!

Knowing When To Hold Them

The Claw Machine was recently saddened to find that one of our favorite records, The Gambler by Kenny Rogers, is broken. The disc is snapped off at the edge, forever ruined and unplayable. While we're not entirely sure how this happened, we suspect that it may have occurred during a recent move.



Let it be clear that we have no sentimental attachments to this particular copy of The Gambler. It's one of millions sold worldwide. We found this copy, a 1980 Liberty re-issue, in the dollar bin at the local thrift store. Another could easily be bought and no doubt we'll be tempted at the next swap meet, rummage sale or record store. But why buy it twice? We all know the songs -- they're part of our collective cultural unconsciousness. This is the chart-topping crossover album that effectively relaunched Kenny Rogers' career, bridged the gap between outlaw and pop country, garnered numerous industry awards. Rogers' warm voice, Don Schlitz's eponymous composition and its simple advice, Larry Butler's smooth, pop-influenced production, all can be recalled as easily and clearly as playing the record. With a bit of concentration, we can even remember the track order:

SIDE 1:

1. "The Gambler"
2. "I Wish That I Could Hurt That Way Again"
3. "King of Oak Street"
4. "Makin' Music for Money"
5. "Hoodooin' of Miss Fannie Deberry"

SIDE 2:

6. "She Believes in Me"
7. "Tennessee Bottle"
8. "Sleep Tight, Goodnight Man"
9. "Little More Like Me (The Crucifixion)"
10. "San Francisco Mabel Joy"
11. "Morgana Jones"




Just as easily remembered is Reid Miles' airbrushed chiaroscuro cover photo, with its warm hues and poker felt greens. (It was this photo, as much as the song, that inspired 5 Gambler TV movies with Rogers in the starring role.) We know every baroque curve of the typography. We've memorized the endless list of guest musicians and have even made note of "The Friends of Kenny Rogers" fan club address.

And should we forget, there's always the Internet. What makes us sad is that we don't need this record anymore. It's broken, so into the dumpster it goes. And it just doesn't feel right to throw a record away.

Hey, Those Wall Sockets Aren't Even

And why are they in the middle of your wall like that?

It's Merely Trash

Mere, as in "just only, nothing more than", as in "a shallow pool or marsh," as in "a Maori war club", or maybe as in the French "mère", meaning "mother".

400 Paul Avenue

Paul Avenue runs through some far-flung industrial park hugging a middle-class suburb north of the city. 400 Paul was once the home of Universal Match, the Diamond Match Company, and until recently, the Memorial Tabernacle Christian Life Center. In this building, matches were made and people were saved. It's empty now, quiet.

The Match Collector

It's a Quaker Oats can filled with matches. The Claw Machine bought it at a junk shop's "Going Out Of Business" sale. There, amid the pressboard dressers, sewing machines, paperback novels, and brass lamps were 2 more identical cans that could have been purchased but regrettably were not. These 3 cans represent someone's life collection of matches. In this can, there are 66 matchbooks and boxes, too many to list or show here. Representative pieces include:

• The Carnelian Room - San Francisco
• Steak and Ale Restaurant - Atlanta
• Salute Trattoria Italiana - Fort Lauderdale
• Gasparilla Inn and Cottages - Boca Grande
• Dayton Airport Inn
• Hutchens Mortuary - St. Louis
• Westborough Country Club - St. Louis
• Holiday Inn - Westport, St. Louis
• Holiday Inn - Glasgow
• Holiday Inn - London (Marble Arch)
• Trader Vic's - London
• Ledoyen Hotel - Paris
• Hotel Jagdschloss - Netherlands
• Concorde - Air France
• Hyatt Regency - Maui

The majority of the collection comes from businesses in US, but as a whole represents matches from around the world. Many of the businesses advertised on the matches no longer exist or have moved. The matchbooks come all sizes - 20 head, 30 head, even a few 48 head. Almost all books are intact, with very few or no matches missing. The matchboxes are all full. Printing is done using 1 to 4 color processes and the papers used are brightly colored matte, glossy, or metallic stocks.



Who was the collector of matches? Why did this person collect them? The matches are undated, so if a timeline of the collection were to be created, it would have to be by best-guessing the age of each by wear (such as fading or yellowing), typography or technology of printing. However, since almost every matchbook lists an address, we can still chart the journey of an anonymous collector through restaurants, steak houses, lounges, hotels, country clubs, and mortuaries. Through research and analysis, 3 profiles have been created, all of equal probability:

1. The collector, likely a white male, was a smoker, a drinker, a traveler. Judging by his frequent trips to non-vacation regional destinations such as Paducah, KY, he was a salesman of some kind. He was a veteran, at one point serving in the Navy (a detail derived from Matchbook #45, "US Navy Seal"). He enjoyed golf, steaks, country clubs. Judging by the (estimated) age of the the pieces in the collection, he was born in the 1930s, died in the 90s. He may have been a philanderer, as the only duplicate matchbooks in the collection came from hotels within a 20 minutes' drive from where the can was found. Since it seems unlikely that this collection traveled far after the collector's death, we believe that the collector met some secret lover at hotels in the city, away from his suburban life, and kept matchbooks as souvenirs of each tryst. One such memento, from The Greenbriar Hills Country Club (#21, Kirkwood, Missouri) has a telephone number written on the back. What his relatives thought when going through the matches he left behind, one can only guess.




2. Approximately 30% of all matches in the collection carry the Universal Match or the Diamond Match Company imprint. Both are defunct businesses that shared the same address, 400 Paul Avenue in St. Louis. It seems possible that the can(s) of matches may have served as a portfolio of sorts for a matchbook graphic designer, now retired or deceased. The remaining 70% of the collection not manufactured by the Universal Match or Diamond Match Company can easily be explained. Not all matches carry an imprint, and therefore could still be products of Universal Match or Diamond Match Company. Matches carrying a competitor's imprint may have been collected as inspiration for materials, printing processes, designs, etc.




3. Some combination of both profiles above. We imagine a swinging matchbook salesman/designer, traveling the world, puffing fat cigars, getting sloshed with his clients in the corner booth at the hotel bar. It's Friday night, and he's buying. At closing time, the lights come on and out comes the pen and order form. Hoteliers and restauranteurs, he sells them all, scoring the big orders from famous chains with his charm and stunning designs. Living hard and fast, he dies rich and too young, with nothing but oatmeal cans full of colorful matchbooks to show where he's been.

Who, me?

Just down the road from Time.

Empty Bottle of "Canadian Superior" Found In Bushes Near Side Door of Corporation

It's some kind of scotch. Was it emptied before, during or after work?