So it's three in the morning on New Years' Day and Joanne and I are standing just outside of the Casbah Lounge in the Sahara in Vegas. On stage, and I swear this is true, is "Cook E. Jarr and the Krums." And they're rockin' the house.

Cook -- Mr. Jarr -- is a rapidly-going-to-seed white guy with violently teased long black hair. He's got on knee-high red leather boots, black Spandex pants, and a loose-fitting red coat. The jacket is open to his navel and a dozen or so gold chains and medallions are hanging where a shirt should be. He's got two chins.

Cook thinks he's just the funkiest thing in the world.

"Everybody in the house now, say 'Yeah!'" he says, and holds the mike to the audience.

A guy in the back coughs and says "Yeah."

"Everybody in the house now, say 'Yeah!'" And he holds the mike out again.

[Silence.]

Cook ignores this and bobs and weaves and just generally shakes his aging groove thang.

I think the "E." is for "Earl."