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The Monday Morning Memo

“Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” sounds like a song about a guy who is hung up on a girl, but it’s actually about a drug dealer trying to push heroin to a skittish new client. The tip-off is the line “Slow Hand Row.” Eric Clapton, a notorious heroin user, earned the nickname ‘Slow Hand’ back in the late 60’s. Back when this song was written, ‘driving on Slow Hand Row’ was a code phrase for shooting up heroin. Likewise, “I have a friend in town, he’s heard your name” is code for, “I know you’re not a narc.”

We hear you’re leavin’, that’s okay.
I thought our little wild time had just begun.
I guessed you kind of scared yourself, you turn and run.
But if you have a change of heart
Rikki, don’t lose that number,
You don’t wanna call nobody else.
Send it off in a letter to yourself.
Rikki, don’t lose that number
It’s the only one you own
You might use it if you feel better
When you get home.

I have a friend in town, he’s heard your name
We can go out driving on Slow Hand Row.
We could stay inside and play games, I don’t know,
And you could have a change of heart.
Rikki, don’t lose that number,
You don’t wanna call nobody else.
Send it off in a letter to yourself.
Rikki, don’t lose that number,
It’s the only one you own.
You might use it if you feel better
When you get home

You tell yourself you’re not my kind
But you don’t even know your mind
And you could have a change of heart.
Rikki, don’t lose that number
You don’t wanna call nobody else
Send it off in a letter to yourself
Rikki, don’t lose that number
It’s the only one you own
You might use it if you feel better

When you get home

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Random Quote:

“No, no, people in our country don’t have the ability to club together to form a community, not even under the banner of the penny bun. This is a land of neurotic egotists, each of whom, as soon as he finds himself among others, starts to instruct, criticize, offend, and show off his undoubted superiority.

I think in the Czech Republic it’s totally different. The people there are capable of discussing things calmly and nobody quarrels with anyone else. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t, because their language isn’t suited to quarreling.”

- Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, p. 187, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature

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