Было время - любили гармониста, а теперь время настало - любят тракториста.

I have gone down the gritty Soviet realism path here with Henry today. I think that he evokes an image of a rough hewn, long-haired Czech beat poet railing against Brezhnev’s tanks rolling into Prague (minus the flowers in the one hand, and the Molotov cocktail in the other). Change that shirt to a Dukla Prague away strip and we’re talking turkey.

You might have some trouble with the title today; it is an old Soviet proverb that I think captures the spirit of the time well:

There was a time they loved an accordionist, and now the time has come where they love a tractor driver.

I’d like to think that the ladies – and the people more broadly – will love Henry regardless of whether he is driving a tractor or driving a piano accordion (or at least that they will tolerate his piano accordion-ship and not accost him with rocks and burning stakes).