Songwriter

What are you doing?

This is my honeymoon!

You just bought yourself a real bull.

When's the last time

you bought any bull semen, pal?

This is a $100,000 bull.

It started, three of us: me and Doc and Honey.

Doc and Honey got married,

but it was still the three of us.

Honey got pregnant again.

Pretty soon,

it was just me and Doc out there,

hacking our way through showbiz hell.

There you go, Doc. My pleasure.

Thank you.

Get 'em to get out of here.

That's all. You know who I mean.

Everybody?

Yes, everybody.

Everybody out? Yes, everybody.

Everybody, out. You heard me!

The lady said everybody out.

Everybody, out.

Out!

Bye, Daddy.

What am I doing wrong?

Do it like you did it last night.

Oh, hurry, honey!

Doc's got a real healthy imagination,

which cost him a couple of wives

and most of our money

before leading him to the stunning conclusion

that songwriting

was making somebody a whole lot of bucks.

Since it obviously wasn't us, it had to be "them,"

he immediately quit the road forever

to be a mogul,

leaving it up to me and the boys out here

to be the keepers the flame.

You want a statement? I'll give you a statement.

Our relationship is going to last forever,

maybe longer.

Doc, does this mean

you're not gonna sing anymore, you're just gonna produce?

Is Blackie on his own?

One more time, son.

We're with you.

Pick up that guitar.

Doc's ace in the hole

in this world full of wheelers and whackos and dealers

and old obligations and too little time

is a burning commitment to living by his wits

without stooping to work.

Good morning, Doc.

So far, he's semi-succeeded,

thanks to innocence, audacity,

and a flat refusal

to let himself be out-gangstered

by some fat guy in a suit.

This one fell asleep with his beer in his hand...

You see, in the music business, just like in real life,

it's a day-to-daily war

between the sorry and the soulful.

No rule says the righteous gotta win,

but I'm putting my money on a con-man gypsy

bad-ass true-blue legendary bandit hero,

and when it's all over,

they can say he did it for the love,

but he was not above the money.

Well, you know, next party we have,

we ought to get us a valet.

A valet with a mallet.

Mobile operator. May I help you?

Hello, operator.

Get me the Ramada Inn in El Paso, please.

Hello, Ramada Inn?

Hello. Get me Blackie Buck's room, would you, please?

Yo.

Hello, Blackie. I knew you'd still be up.

What time is it there?

How did it go?

Oh... Full house.

They got a little rowdy.

I bet you didn't have nothing to do with that, did you?

I did the second set with my back to the audience.

Glad you haven't lost your sense of humor.

You need anything?

Yeah, my old singing partner.

He went on to bigger and better things.

Bigger?

By the way, if you hear of a girl singer, let me know.

I need one. I'm looking for one to produce.

Matter of fact, I got one with me here now

who sounds a little bit like Hoyt Axton.

Here in the heart of Nashville country,

it's 57 degrees with partly cloudy skies,

clearing up this afternoon to let the sun shine through.

The high today in Nashville should be around 62 degrees

with overnight low in the upper 40s.

The morning traffic report...

Good morning, Doc. Good morning.

What do you want to hear?

I don't know. How'd I do on drums? Great.

You played your ass off on the bass last night.

I can't play bass.

You played bass last night.

Is my guitar hooked up? Sure is.

Good morning. Sorry I'm late.

You're always sorry, and you're always late.

You're playing everything else in this here supergroup.

Why don't you play the fiddle too?

Because you play better fiddle than I do.

Also because I want to stack some fiddles

when we get through.

Since it's just two of us in the group,

how about me naming the band? All right.

The Eleven Dixie Mudcats.

Hi, Roy.

That is not what he said.

He said you've got to pay me $1800 a month

on an every-month basis,

not just every now and then.

How much do I owe you? You're back five months,

and you wrote me a check, and it bounced.

Bounced? The bank must've screwed up.

I sent it back to you. It bounced again.

I'll write you another check.

Honey, how do I know that ain't gonna bounce?

Anita, I'm not intentionally gonna write you a check

that will bounce.

Doc, what happens to all your money?

Good morning.

I drove my blind brother Tommy 2000 miles

on prayers to God you'd listen to his song.

I'm listening.

Hit it, Tommy.

Listen to me, Doc.

I'm talking about rent money, car payments, food, and clothes.

I don't understand

how I got behind in your alimony.

I'll damn sure bet

you ain't behind in Honey Carder's alimony.

She never asked for any.

Mm, Doc...

You know, I think you loved me about 10 percent of the time,

hated me about 10 percent of the time.

I never hated you. I couldn't hate anybody.

Oh, yeah? You hate Rodeo Rocky.

I've never hated a real human being.

When are you gonna grow up

and be a responsible person?

I'm president of my own publishing company,

got my own studio.

How grown up do I have to be?

You know, I think you and I probably just got married

the wrong year and a half of our lives,

and I'm sorry it didn't work out.

Oh, Doc.

Why did I leave you?

Why did I leave you?

I left you.

Doc, that Cajun creep is here.

All right, Mulreaux, send him in.

And get Hogan over here.

Well, you take the ITC, you deduct all the interest.

You write off your fuel and your maintenance...

I don't care about...

How much money are you talking about?

Hogan, you know Mulreaux.

Mulreaux, you know Hogan.

Hey, Hogan. How d'you do, my friend.

Chicken-fried German food to go.

That was a long time ago.