The voice

I have this rather bland voice. It isn't squeeky, but it isn't deep and velvety, either. So when the persistant cold, which I have had the pleasure of enduring for a few weeks now, dropped my voice down to a smooth baritone, I was happy as a clam. My wife maintains there is nothing that can be done to make the change permanent, except taking up serious whisky-drinking and cigar smoking. Which actually doesn't sound that bad. Except I couldn't really do that to my little girl. So I am just enjoying this while it lasts.

What do you do with a temporary baritone? What use can I put The Voice to? Sure, I could record myself, singing a few songs. But the cold hasn't cured my terminal off-key singing, so that really isn't appealing. I could do some James Earl Jones impressions. If you're in the market for that, drop me a line. I'm cheap. But I thought of an even better use for The Voice. I have been calling people. On the phone. Not random people, mind you, but some of my people. People that are used to my rather featureless day-to-day voice. To treat them to a suave and silky-smooth colloquy. And the results? Well, I've talked to maybe a half a dozen of my friends, on the phone, over the last couple of days, and none of them picked up on The Voice thing. Except my wife. She says I can weaken her knees with that Voice. Which is fun. But the rest of them? Well, granted, some of them are guys. And they probably wouldn't admit to finding The Voice attractive, even if they did. And people generally were busy. Or had a lot to say. All good explanations for actually listening to what I was saying, instead of what I was saying it with.

Which leaves me here. With my bountiful baritone.

"Oooooold man river, that ooooooold man river..."