Jack and I were talking about how his dear friend Mitch is up for a W. C. Handy award this year, and how I ought to pimp him on my blog. Mitch is a fine musician and an upstanding citizen so you should vote for him, but not before we take a little trip down memory lane. Here we see Jack and Mitch on Halloween, oh so many years ago before I met either of them:

You can see how Mitch really took the time to develop a concept here, the concept perhaps being that here's a guy that somebody really wants dead, so much so that they came at him with multiple comedy weapons, including but not limited to: a Steve Martin-like arrow through the head, a dagger of indeterminate origin on its way through his esophagus, and a giant bolt screwed into his forehead. Man, that takes determination, but Mitch is worth the effort. Now, notice how Jack's taken the easy road with his satin-eared donkey and/or bunny hat. Lost boy? Easter molester? Take your pick, they're both right.

Here we have a shot of the whole band on a tour stop in Zurich in the early nineties:

Click to see the whole picture.

Two cheerful members of the band are bookending three other men who I'm estimating may have had a few drinks the night before. Certainly that shower cap has a tale to tell, but we'll never know what it was, for shower caps tell no tales, they toll for thee. Also, Jack is looking pretty snappy here, I must say. I believe this is post-mullet, though I can't be sure; bandannas are pretty tight-lipped, as well.

So, this got me going through the photo album, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to show you some semi-ancient family history.

Here is Jack at the beach in Malibu with his mom. Jack was born in THE FIFTIES and he hasn't taken any shit since then, so you just watch it with the comments, is all I'm saying. Look at Babs here; she looks like a model. She was, in fact, a model, so suddenly it all makes sense.