There were barely enough customers at the jazz club to fill a family photo album — even a modest-size farm family. The jazz trio playing deserved a bigger audience. Keyboard, electric guitar, and drummer delivered smooth, smile-inducing original music. I watched the drummer effortlessly do all sorts of cross-over pattern drumming to accomplish innuendo in the beat. At one point, he literally knocked a stick from his hand but kept the timbre going will scooping up the fallen timber. Very cool. There was a couple sitting in one of the four known Votexes of Love located in the club. The Vortexes are cosmic anomalies where PDA (public display of affection) occur. When they sat there, I kept an eye on them to see how long it would take for the magic to occur. They were a bit rough looking and could easily fit into a Charles Bukowski poem. Sure enough, it happened. They were making out like they were in the backseat of a Camaro. Later, I was starting to shut down the door for the night when the guy motioned for me with a “Hey youse, come here.” I figure when a guy with tattoos on his hands beckons, it’s best to listen. His face softened into a 10-year-old boy when he gently asked: “Couldya take a pick-ture of me and my girl?” Sure. “And HEY, show her legs!” He handed me a cheap point-n-shoot and I tried to get her race-horse gams prominently in the frame. Click. I looked at the shot and saw her hiked-up short-skirt legs draped over his. They filled the filmy viewer, but their heads were cut off. Got it, I said and handed him the Walmart shooter before quickly beating ass to the other side of the bar for a shot of Jack.