Talk Back: Ain’t no sunshine when it’s gone
Got your tickets for Monday’s concert yet? You’d better hurry. They’re going like hotcakes. And after snagging front row, center section — we know a guy — we couldn’t be more geeked. Talk about a momentous occasion. Aside from a few spontaneous moments on stage together in 2005, no one’s seen hide nor hair of the opening act in nearly 30 years. But now they’ve reunited. And it feels so good.
And we’re not talking Peaches and Herb either.
We can’t wait for those heartbeats, ticking clocks, and manic laughter as the band takes the stage for a 43-minute and 50-second gig featuring the greatest rock album of all time. But if you’re going, be sure to don those funky 3D glasses they’ve issued just for the occasion. They’re the only safe way to view Pink Floyd. And that thing that’ll be moving across the sky high above them.
The dark side of the moon.
Yes, the biggest celestial phenomenon since E.T. phoned home — at least that’s what everyone who’s been going goo-goo gah-gah about it for the past couple of decades would have you believe — is only about a hundred hours away. Which may explain why a whole passel of folks have lined up along the Great Wall of Texas for the world’s fastest 3,200-mile cross-country marathon — Great American Race-style — along the path the total eclipse will follow. While singing the official theme song, of course.
About being followed by a moon shadow.
Much ado about nothing, some say. Sun goes up; sun goes down. The same way garage doors do on The Simpsons. Perhaps. Still, it’s hard to top the wow factor of Jonathan Edwards strolling onstage at the appointed time, pointing dramatically skyward, and uttering the world-famous magic words that have never been known to fail. “Sunshine ... go away today!” And just like that, the place instantly plunges into total darkness. Even though we know how it’s done — think remote control light switch — it’s a pretty good trick.
Even fooled Penn and Teller.
But the truth is these Bonnie Tyler total eclipse of the heart occasions really aren’t all that rare. In fact, they roll around every 18 months or so. So the only reason April 8 has become the biggest thing since Skylab’s falling — or Y2K frying our computers — is that it’s happening just two doors down. At Dolly Parton’s place. Which is why people are carrying on like they’ve never known what goes on when the sun goes down.
Or when the lights go out in Georgia.
Now, there’s no denying that a total eclipse is pretty cool. But we think the partial ones are lot more fun. Who needs Atari when you can use a pin to poke a whole bunch of holes in a sheet of paper, then hold it up to the light while jiggling it back and forth and watching the scalloped-shaped images on the surface below gyrate around. Pac-Man hungry!
Wocka-wocka-wocka.
Alas, most folks today aren’t so easily amused. Which is why they’re all stuck in a traffic jam on a highway heading south somewhere to Ohio in hopes of experiencing something they’ve never seen before and never will again. Three to four minutes of total darkness. We hate to break it to them, but there are lots easier ways to do that without leaving the comfort of their homes. Just plug in your coordinates on the eclipse simulator website, toggle that slide bar back and forth, and faster than you can say, “Pat Travers” ... Boom boom! Out go the lights. Or better yet, simply close your eyes.
And fall asleep.
— Talk Back with Doug Spade and Mike Clement is heard every Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon Eastern Time at localbuzzradio.com, Facebook Live and dougspade.com.
This article originally appeared on The Holland Sentinel: Talk Back: Ain’t no sunshine when it’s gone
