New Year

Be safe in your merriment tonight kiddos.

I'm giving the spousal unit a big kiss come midnight. Of course, I'll have to wake her up to do it and she'll be peeved until New Years next year, but tradition is tradition darn it.

Here's to you. May you be kissing someone at the appropriate hour. Oh the heck with it, start the kissing now.

Peace.

Bowl Bound and Down

Took the family down to San Antonio for a couple of days. We went to see the Tigers play in the Alamo bowl.

For the record, it’s 13 hours one way. Enjoyed the game, enjoyed the River Walk, enjoyed the time with the family in warmer weather. The drive, not so much.

We traveled all that way to watch my Tigers almost give it away. Putting a game into the hands of our defense to win is a bit like telling the wolf to watch the hen house. They got it done. Doesn’t matter how pretty I guess.

We were down in Mizzou end zone after the game. Little guy got to high-five the players as they left the field. He was stoked. Good times.

Best Of

From the best of 2008 files...

Go Figure.

“What you hear on the radio today is 1/2 marketing, 1/2 public relations, and 2/3 timing. And if that math makes sense to you, you no doubt work in the royalties department of a P.R.O.”- Dennis Miller

I read this the other day and made me laugh.

Best Of 2008

From the best of 2008 files...

Well folks, it happened. In a fit of shaking, belching, rattling, and vibrating the old girl finally gave out. I sent my wife and young one away, couldn’t bear to have them watch. Sadly, at 11:10 pm last night, I had to put her down. She’d been with us for almost 15 years, a wedding present. Never complained, always faithful, and reliable right to the end, she was, indeed, a valued member of our family.

Yes, gentle readers, the washer is dead.

She’s bad sick and I have no elixir
Shop soon you must for I cannot fix her
Repair man, no, we all shouted in shock
Who’ll clean our pants, shirts, underwear and socks
Come to my store see Maytags and Whirlpools
That’s when my dear, sweet wife started to drool
Her resolve began quickly eroding
Amid talk of new units front loading
You Judas, traitor, how quickly you forget
It’s not time to close the lid on the old girl yet
Honey, this is the way it has to be
She’s been with us since nineteen ninety three
Repairman had brochures, glossy and slick
This ultra deluxe one should do the trick
Efficient, sleek and not very pricey
It will fit into your home quite nicely
With much glee he took my wife by the arm
Intent on doing my credit card harm
Alas, dear friend, it is the end I see
Of faithful service to our family
May you dream in bold colors while you sleep
Rusting with your friends in the garbage heap
Forget you I shant as they close the deal
On too big a one clad in stainless steel
Goodbye to your buttons and clunky dial
Dealing with your loss will take me a while
Sad, but this is the spin cycle of life
I’m off now, to argue with my wife………

Best Of...

From the best of 2008 files...

Mr. President, can you tell us if the troops in Iraq will have to extend their tours of duty?

Heh-heh, he said "doody"

Best of 2008

Let's take a look back at some of the Best of the Blah over the last year. Shall we??? Enjoy.

Too Sexy For My Anger Management Class
http://www.welt.de/english-news/article2047038/Naomi_Campbell_charged_over_Heathrow_rage_incident_.html

Seriously, what does Naomi Campbell have to be so angry about? She works maybe 100 days a year in places like London, Paris, Rome, and New York City. People pay her vast sums of cash to wear their clothes, walk runways, and appear in magazines and on talk shows. She’s fabulously wealthy and extremely attractive.Why she gotta be a hitter?

Come on everyone, put on your leather bomber jackets and mirrored shades, grow out your three day stubble, clap your hands, and sing to the tune of George Michael’s “Faith.” This one’s for you Namoi.

I know you’ve looked in every crag
And yet you still can’t find my bag
Want to see me turn into a hag?
You better look again now

Jerk Wad

I’m going super model diva all up in the place.

So I punched him in the face, face, face,
I punched him in the face
So I punched him in the face, face, face,
I punched him in the face

Jerk-Wad

It’s Christmas people. Soon the New Year will be upon us. Time for elastic waist bands and fruit flavored Tums. Time for good cheer and reflection.

2008 was a mighty fine year. The spousal unit continues to let me live in the house. We have a great, great little guy, healthy and smart, to pal around with and to love on. I have a job and continue to pay the bills. All the family is well and accounted for. Progress was made on the song writing front. Even began, in earnest, to write a little fiction, something I’ve always wanted to do. All in all, I give it a solid 9 out of 10.

To all the readers out there, all seven of you, please have a happy and safe holiday season. And wherever your holiday travels take you, there you will be. Remember, climbing utility poles is really dumb and your mother loves you.

Most of all…peace.

Cranky and Deaf

So we had an alarm system installed over the weekend. One of the control panels is located right outside the bed chambers. Coincidentally, so is the alarm’s horn

A bleary eyed, slow shuffling head of the Royal Household, clad only in boxers and a t-shirt, attempted to set the alarm to allow him to walk about his castle early, early Sunday morning whilst the queen and crown prince slept in. See the King is wise. He knew that he could sneak down, get the coffee going, slink back in bed and snuggle with the queen for about 30 more minutes before having to get back up. Weekends were made for such finer things, would you not agree? Needing two things to execute his plan to perfection, a bathroom and the coffee maker, the King punched in the appropriate code and set off down the stairs.

Behold, I say unto you, the wrath of the Security Gods came upon the King by the third step unleashing an auditory fury the likes of which have never been experienced before. Not 1.2 seconds later, the crown prince, in a panic, unleashed his own fury matching the wails of the horn note for note and decibel for decibel. Shortly after that, perhaps, as time and relativity were no longer working together as brains and senses were being crushed under the weight of the ear bleeding wall of sound, the queen emerged from her slumber, disheveled and angry, much like a furry grizzly woken early from hibernation. With hands over her ears, and already stamping her feet, her sweet loving voice could be heard above the cacophony tenderly urging the King to quote “turn that _____ thing off!” Ahh, soft and sweet as the coo of the morning dove.

With no glasses on, and sleep still heavy in the eyes, the King stumbled up the stairs, yes up the stairs, making his way to the control panel. Attempting to appease the angry Gods, the King’s hands flew over the key board. Pleased with the many bleeps, bleets and beeps being heard, the King knew the displeasure of the Gods would soon be redirected and peace would be restored. Yet, there was no relief from the horrendous shrill accosting him. The alarm was obnoxious too. The King soon realized that in his haste and haze he was entering his junior high locker combination, his first telephone number back when he still had a party line, hello Martha-Jean, you can click off now, the pin number to a bank account long since closed, and his social security number for good measure. With much wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth from the crown prince, and with the seething, perturbed grizzly approaching with claws at the ready, the King finally remember the right key combination and entered it just in the nick of time.

Calm descended upon the castle. Sort of. No bloody siren call, but where once could be heard the steady breathing of peaceful dreamy sleep, now there was the hyperventilating spasms of child like cries from the Royal Family. Deep breathing, trying to squelch the affects of the adrenaline dump into his system, the King’s vision began to clear just as the downstairs phone rang. Running to catch it, reaching it just in time, the King heard a bubbly teenager happily state “Hello this is Brinks Security. There’s been an alarm tripped sir. May I have your name and code word please.” Let’s see, the code word. Hearing aides, perhaps. No. Um, Cochlear implants then. No again. Could it be soiled undergarments? No. At last the King remembered the code word only to hear. “So, is everything OK sir?”

Summoning his most gallant, stately voice, the King regally replied, “Madame, I’ve somehow managed to bang my knee so hard that tomorrow I’ll require surgery. My inner ears are now a pulpy mess of blood soaked goo. Moreover, the crown prince screams like a little girl, the Queen cusses like a sailor on leave, and I have to go to the bathroom so bad my bladder is sagging into the floor of my pelvis….and, by the hammer of Thor and for the love of all things holy, I’ve missed my snuggle time! So, no, dear child, everything is most definitely not alright.

Moved

Further to its insidious plot to rule the world, Google has converted another.

http://seventhrowmusic.blogspot.com

Not my work, but too funny to pass up. From Craigslist:

NINJA HAULER: 2005 Nissan Xterra - $12900 (Ronan / Lake County)

Date: 2008-11-19, 10:04PM MST

OK, let me start off by saying this Xterra is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). My friend, if it was possible for a vehicle to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Nissan would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that manly.

It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Linens & Things. No, that's what your Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. I mean it. Just stop.

This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja super-warriors in the highest mountains of Japan to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what the hell On Star is). No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 265 HP engine to outrun the cops. It's got special blood/gore resistant upholstery. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself.

The Xterra also has an automatic transmission so if you're being chased by Libyan terrorists, you'll still be able to shoot your machine gun out the window and drive at the same time. It's saved my bacon more than once. It has room for you and the four hotties you picked up on the way to the gym to blast your pecs and hammer your glutes. There's a tow hitch to pull your 50 caliber anti-Taliban, self cooling machine gun. I also just put in a new windshield to replace the one that got shot out by The Man.

My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $12,900, but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $5,000 for it. That's liable to earn you a Burmese-roundhouse-sphincter-kick with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Coldplay concert anymore.

There's only 69,000 miles on this four-wheeled hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo. Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then contact me. I might be out hang-gliding or BASE jumping or just chilling with my ladies, but I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about a price over a nice glass of Schmidt while we listen to Johnny Cash. To sweeten the deal a little, I'm throwing in this pair of MC Hammer pants for the man with rippling quads that can't fit into regular pants. Yeah, you heard me. FREE MC Hammer pants. Rock on.

Location: Ronan / Lake County
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interestsPostingID: 926508578

Bon Voyage....Soon

With white stuff on the ground, temps in the low 20’s, and more junk predicted for later today, I thought it appropriate to remind myself that in less than 60 days I’ll be aboard a cruise liner headed for tropical climes.

Not bragging, just reminding myself the sun will shine again. I intend to chase it down come Valentine's day.

The brochure calls it the Southern Caribbean. I call it the three Saints and a Virgin tour.

My wife in a bathing suit, me in the Hawaiian shirt du jour, little guy running wild on the Lido deck, sand between our toes, and umbrellas in our drinks.

Oh yes. Yes, Indeed.

Back and Thawing Out

Been out of pocket for a few days. Took a quick trip to Canada. Yes, that Canada. Cold and snow up there. Go figure.

First things first, to all in Montreal, how you can put cheese curds and gravy on French fries is beyond my understanding. Frankly, I think you should have your own country there in Quebec if you’re going to act that way. That’s not just wrong. It’s a classification busting type of foulness that defies explanation.

Secondly, rental cars have the speedometers in kilometers. More than once I slammed on the brakes to slow myself down completely surprised to find myself driving 100, or 60 for those of us stupid English standard only Americans.

When in Ontario, you can never go wrong with jokes about beer or hockey (Maple Leafs in particular), just FYI. Any joke with New Foundland in it seems to be a hit as well. Recycled the same material over a day and a half with much success.

Spend any time in Toronto and you can clearly see that you do not know diversity like they know it. There’s nothing homogenous about any of it. Finding any three nationalities alike in a group of ten is a rarity. Helped an elderly Japanese man fill out a customs form, spoke to an Indian customs agent, asked questions of a Latin security guard, had dinner with two French speakers from Quebec, and met a transplanted South African. All very Canadian, yet different.

It’s easy to tell the Americans in Canada. Yes, Indeed. They’ll be the ones with their mouths agape, revulsion in their eyes, doubting they actually heard correctly when someone asked them if they wanted cheese curds and gravy on their fries.

Seriously. That’s not right.

You've Been Warned

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SecVCh9dg4I

Old Man Winter

Every year it happens, the first real snow, and every year I say the same thing. I hate winter.

This white, frozen reminder of why deductibles exist began around lunch time and is still going some five hours later.

Yesterday it was 50 degrees. Seriously. Today I get this.

Seriously, what’s the deal?

That’s three songwritery types I know now that have gut troubles. They're dropping like flies.

My guts and I might just stick with sales where its safer, thank you very much.

On Vocations

I'm at a holiday party mingling, grazing, and generally having a good time. I stop to shake hands with the host and chit chat a little.

Turns out he's a board certified equine surgeon. The only one within a four hundred mile radius. He just recently finished construction of his multi-stall horse hospital and will be bringing in interns from around the country to train under his leadership. Of course, come spring, he'll be very busy bringing in foals all across the country. He's also working on some neoplasm treatments for horses with various skin cancer lesions. That's a new and very exciting develpment for horses who are getting older, extending their lives like never before.

"So, what do you do Bill?"

Right...

Health Bass-ics

Fish oil: miracle cure or an evil plot by mouthwash executives?

You decide.

Thirty minutes after you take a capsule, you burb bait.

Yummy.

Smooth and Creamy Stupidity

I just found an allergen warning on my peanut butter. It states: Contains Peanuts.

Seriously, gentle readers, I weep for our country.

By the way...I'm fully aware that Satin is a comfy fabric used for bedding and finer things. Satan is the ugly guy down south.

I'm just not going to edit the previous blog out of spit, or spite, whatever...

Enabler, Thy Has a Face and a Name

I was watching MNF last night.

Don't exactly know why, but Plaxico Burress is big news. Haven't heard...He's a receiver for the Giants. He brought a gun into a night club and then accidentally shot himself with it. News? Someone from the NFL involved in an incident with a handgun. How is that news? Seems to me that's de rigeur.

What would be newsworthy would be a week in which someone from the NFL didn't do something stupid.

Then Plaxico's agent got on the mic. Oh, what have we become people? I don't say this lightly, but I swear this man may be one of satin's ambassadors.

Please America, Take it on Faith..That's Really Her!

My left butt cheek that’s really her.

She’s wealthier then you’ll ever be, she’s a super star married to a super star, and now she’s got a photo shopped six pack.

Now all you “other” girls out there hurry and get this magazine. Feel horrible about yourselves, you fat cows, and then buy the crap that’s in here.

Why do this people, I ask you? “A present to myself”, she says. (Yes, I actually read the article) My left foot.

I’m just as much a guy as the next dude. If Faith’s going prance around in her bikini, then chances are I’m going to look. But come on…

Tiger Trouble

Did you see the game? All I want for Christmas is a defensive secondary.

Dear Mother of Mildred, Oklahoma is going to murderize us.

I hate the Jayhawks.

Sad. Just sad...

Oh Yeah, Another Thing

Ms. Parker’s story reminded me about something I wanted to post.

Usually I’m leery of songs that are supposed to tug on your heat strings. Often they end up just being overly sentimental cheese fests. But…

Brad Paisley’s Waitin’ On a Woman” is pretty darn good. Great hook, nice internal rhymes in the lyric, singable melody, and a great bridge.

I’ve read somewhere statistics show
The man’s always the first to go
And that makes sense ’cause I know she won’t be ready
(Waitin’ On a Woman-Don Sampson, Wynn Varble)

Come on…how good is that?

Then they go and put Andy Griffith in the video. I know. I know. You can see it coming. But I’ll tell you this: it works, at least on me anyway. By the end of the video I’m all types of gooey. Good stuff.

Which leads me to the old joke: Know why its always the husband who dies first? Cause he wants to…He-he.

Age

"We don't know why she's lived so long. But She's never been a worrier and she's always been thin."-Don Parker on his grandmother.

Formerly the oldest person alive, Ms. Edna Parker lived to be 115 years, 220 days old. She passed away on Wednesday.

Never been a worrier and always been thin. Hum...

Corrections, Errors, and Omissions

Gentle Readers.....Although I believe I vetted the Chinese Thanksgiving piece to the best of my abilities, and found it to be appropriately offensive without going over the top,and alert reader indicated that the father in the last sequence utters a word that could possibly misconstrued for something entirely inappropriate and not fit for public consumption. I've re-listened to it, and can see how the words could be misunderstood.

So in the interest of public safety, and having my mother return to earth to put the beat down on me, I have removed said entry.

So whilst I deal with the FCC, please note that I will immediately fire the editor of this humble publication and beg your forgiveness.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Recipe Cards and Labels

My spousal unit is gone. No, not permanently, just gone for a few days. Back Tuesday.

Gentlemen, like me, I'm sure you ask yourself when the wife's gone, is it two cups of Motrin every six hours or two teaspoons?

Another thing: what in the heck could possibly take 45 minutes to cook at 350 degrees? I'm not smelting iron for the love of Pete. However, just FYI, when it says 350 for 45, trying 500 for 20, is not a suitable alternative.

On the bright side, I've now found something to patch the cracks with in my driveway.

Captain Dork Strikes Sgain...

Cold last night. First real cold snap. Moving stuff, getting gas, in a hurry, and not paying attention.

Still cold today. Now I'm not just cold, but cold and torqued. Lost my stupid wallet in the melee last night. Credit card, social security card, debit card, gas card, license, and pictures of my little guys, everything.

Spoke to Raj Macan'tpronounceya this morning to cancel the credit card. Ever so helpful he was. In the midst of my troubles he wanted to sell me fraud protection. Sort of like offering me a fire hose after the house has burned down.

That's just the beginning I'm sure.

Wanna Get Away

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27808624/?gt1=43001

(Ding) We’d like for you to stow all carry-ons in the compartment above you or under the seat in front of you. Please turn off and stow all electronic devices at this time, and bring your tray tables and seats to their upright and locked positions. Thank you.

Aaaaaaaaand if anyone on board has any commercial flight experience, carries any Xanex, Prozac, or Morphine on your person-no questions asked, happens to be good with a lasso, or managed to sneak a stun-gun past TSA-again, no questions asked, please be sure and ring your flight attendant call button.

..Oh yeah, we’re gonna go ahead and turn on the fasten seat belt sign at this time. We’ll be landing shortly…very shortly.

Busy week. Very busy.

Indulge me, if you will, and allow me to preach... just a little.

You know not the hour.

Been one of those weeks when the gravity of that statement sinks in clearly telling you that you have to pick a side.

Me? Well, no question here. I’m a card carrying member of the let nothing be left undone camp. As President and Chairman Emeritus of this club, one of my duties is to explain the basic rules and regulations to perspective members. They are few and easy to follow.

#1) If there’s a song to sing, a neck to hug, a baby to hold, a hand to shake, pie to eat, a slow dance to be had, or a person to kiss, and you knowingly choose to do something else, passing on even one chance for any of the above, you are not induction worthy and membership can never be conferred upon you.

#2) Refer to rule number one

Life is short, yes, but not short on opportunities.

Thank you. That is all.

Good Vibrations...Me Thinks Not

I was in the mood to have a good scare last night after I got the family in bed. M. Knight Shamalamadingdong’s “The Happening” was on. So, what the heck.

He likes to be called Mr. Wahlberg, but his acting was so bad in this one that Mark is now, and forever shall be, Marky Mark as far as I’m concerned. I mean honestly bad, first day on the set, so unbelievable that I’m amazed it survived dailies, ugly bad.

People have become a threat to nature. Nature, plants, trees, bushes, and grass begin to release chemicals into the air that make humans go crazy and kill themselves. Not only was it badly acted, it was a badly acted, thinly veiled political statement.

Know me now. I'm no high brow snoot. I’ve sat through most of Shamalamadingdong’s work; Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs, The Village, and enjoyed them all. Sometimes frightened to the point of literally squealing like a little girl. No so much with this one.

It stunk people. Dear Gracious.

Father-Daughter Advice

Dad, I want to be a country music star. What do I do?

Well hon, you have to have talent, of course. But you also have to willing to toil undiscovered for a long time, be persistent, hone your craft day after day and night after night, and you have to have a little bit of luck.

Oh yeah, you also have to look like this...

Apparently Nashville A&R folks have declared war on brunettes.....apparently.

Makes you want to adopt one don't it, take em home, feed em a cupcake or something.

Please call now. Help stamp out hunger on tour buses all across America. Call 1-800-eat-food (328-3663) today. You can make a difference...

Hit or Bust?

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/3444912/Victorias-Secret-sued-after-bra-made-women-ill.html

We now join Heidi and Seal at their country estate in Yorkshire...

Umm Seal, like what are theeze?

Well Luv, they appear to be boobs.

No, Like I mean under them, ya know?

Yes, I see. That’s glorious suffering, you know, like a kiss from a rose on a grave.

Wow! You’re all like, so deep and I’m like all wow and stuff. But my rose grave thingies itch.

Don’t move luv. I’m going to grab my guitar and pen. I haven’t had a hit in years, one that anyone understands anyway, and your pain is just what I need to create my “art”.

Um, like, OK, but hurry. My friend Naomi Campbell is coming over and, like, when she sees this, she's going to be all like I’m kicking someone’s a#*. She might like start hitting you and stuff, and I’d be all like, Naomi, don’t hurt him, he’s a brooding artist and using my rose thingies as his musk, or must. What do you call the thing I can’t ever understand? Muse? Yeah, whatever, I’m like all about your muse.

Does it really hurt luv? Can you feel it in your Soul?

Um, like , No. Mostly it’s my rose grave thingies. Um, like, I could so go for like a tall soy skinny latte, and some, like, you know, Benadryl right now…

Much Respect

Happy Veteran's Day!!

Let's Review, Shall We?

Calling an illegal alien an undocumented immigrant is like calling a drug dealer an unlicensed pharmacist.

Thank you. That is all.

Well Excuse Me

Little guy woke up early this morning around 1:00 am. Came in to tell me he had a bad dream.

Not yet awake, and groggy, I kissed him on the head, told him to not to worry about it, you’re fine, happens sometimes, yada, yada, yada. My final piece of advice was to get back in bed, cover up, and close his eyes. We’d talk about it in the morning. He trudged back to his room mumbling under his breath.

About two minutes later, just long enough for me to snuggle back down, I heard his footsteps in the hall. He came in to the room, got within two inches from my face, gave me the stink eye, and said very plainly, “That’s not a very good answer dad”. He did an immediate about face and left just as quickly as he came in.

Tonight, about 1:00, I’m going to his room and wake him up. I think I’ll ask him about re-allocating my 401(k) in light of the recent market woes. Maybe ask his opinion about a possible slant towards more income oriented funds.

Let’s see how he likes that…

I Weep For The Genre

"Most new artists don’t get to open for superstars like Brooks & Dunn and ZZ Top before they release a single. But don’t tell that to Justin Moore. With breakout digital singles “I Could Kick Your Ass” and “Back That Thing Up,” Justin landed those coveted opening slots and got a record deal with Valory Music Group."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWq_nWZzlpY

I don't want to write country songs anymore. Apparently this modern day Shakespeare has said it all. This is why people lampoon country music. Seriously.

Shut Up, All of You!!!

There’s nothing more frightening and exhilarating then the inner dialog where the heart speaks up telling you “you can do this”. How many things, great and small, would we have missed, had it not been for the little voice between the ears?

Michelangelo staring at the ceiling and scratching his head when the little voice pipes up and says “Go ahead man. We got the scaffolding in the wagon, the Monsignor gave you the keys to the place, and we’re not scheduled to be anywhere for the next decade or so. Go ahead, you can do this.”

Maybe it’s the Middle-America working class family of four, solvent, but stretched, finding room for the orphan from Uganda because mom heard “There’s room. You’ve got all the baby clothes in storage, car seats in the basement, and Jimmy and Jack can share a room. Tom would love to build the bunk beds anyway. You can do this.”

Little Joe carrying a bad report card all the way home on the bus knowing what waits for him at home steals himself up for the inevitable by the mantra playing in his mind like a looped recording “Don’t lie. You earned it. Playstation is gone for a while, probably going to have to quit the ball team for a semester, but you can do this.”

Great and small.

Recently, very recently, like within the last 18 months, my looped recording keeps encouraging me to write. Not songs, strangely enough, but fiction. Without much warning and forethought, I’ve been burdened with several rich story ideas that I would very much like to get down on paper. In truth, they’re coming faster than song ideas. Burdened is a good choice of words. I can tell the stories, sure. I can get them down on paper, but I can’t “render” them like the ideas deserve. Make sense to anyone? No? OK, yeah me neither really. Suffice it to say that I think encouragement is rounding the final turn and abilities are back at the gate. Good times.

Do you think Michelangelo, flat on his back a hundred feet in the air, with paint from elbow to butt hole, ever heard that same voice utter, “Whoa! You know, there’s no shame in being a farmer” or maybe “Hey, Mikey-baby, is that..it’s that’s aunt Cecelia from over at Paloma isn’t it. She needs to be a little fatter and with a bit of a mustache, but that’s not bad..no wait, is that a cherub? It’s a cherub isn’t it? My..my bad. Keep going. You’re doing great.”

I hear momma again. Funny how and when she shows up. “If your friends told you jump off a bridge would you do it?” Momma’s got a point. As usual. The voice can say all it wants. Doesn’t mean I have to listen. Then again, maybe there’s too many competing voices in my head. Ooh, that’s deep and kind of interesting. I should write about that. You know, I think I can do that…

New Braunfels, Texas today kids.  That's right.  Another road trip.   

The winds were so bad this morning that I thought the tail of the airplane was going to wrap around the front.  Nick LaPointe, an aeronautical engineer by the way, would call it "Pitch and Yaw".  I call it MD-80 rodeo and it's not that fun.

Got word from my brother after a gig in Columbia early in the week that a couple of our songs made people cry.  Out loud, for the world to see crying, after a couple of songs.  Is it wrong to take satisfaction in making people miserable?

I miss my son and La Quinta is not Spanish for speedy Wi-Fi.  Just FYI...

Decision '08

Had some decisions to make this morning at 6:00. Important ones. Stood there flanked on the left and right by others in the throes of exercising their rights, with long lines of eagerly awaiting citizens behind me. Shoulder to shoulder, we intrepid early birds, took upon us the heavy mantle of the idealistic concept of choice, our right to vote.

Studying all the positions, listening to all the rhetoric, cutting through the bull, looking past what the media tells me is right and wrong, digging deep down into my very being looking for direction, and knowing that the decisions I make today carry far reaching implications, I cast my ballot. I made my choice.

I chose the vanilla latte and the blueberry scone with the cinnamon-sugar crumbly things on top...Starbucks rocks!

Equal time here for the other side.

Come on...it's funny. You know it. Laugh.

The End

Guss died. I cried. Again.

Old West, the best. The End.

Toliet Tumble

Ever fainted? It’s a very, very strange sensation.

Just finished up in the bathroom, not quite buttoned up, and the lights started to go out. I somehow made it to the living room and landed on the couch. I whacked my shin on something and have a nice bruise to show for it. No clue what I hit.

When things started making sense again, I was on the couch with a startled wife and a curious six year old looking me over. The very next realization was that my pants were around my knees. Excellent.

Don’t remember much from episode except I swear I heard crickets. Loud, obnoxious crickets, like a raucous bug rock concert between my ears. Try explaining that all jacked up on the couch with your britches down and your eyes half closed.

Note to self: A week of late to bed and early to wake-y, make Billy all fall down and very shaky.

Hulking Kisses

Home. At Last.



I'm going to throw my suitcase as far as I can throw it. Then I'm going to sneak up on my wife and give her one of those World War II vintage kisses.



After that-Man time with the little guy. Trick-or-treating tonight. Incredible Hulk this year. The little guy, not me. I'm going as an unshaven, road weary sales guy with bad breath. After that it's dinner on the floor in front of the TV, some Wii, followed by dueling toothbrushes before bed.




I'm probably not the first person to think this, but coming home almost makes you you want to go back on the road just so you can come home again...

Gus Fuss

On the road this week. So I brought an old movie to watch. Hadn't seen it in a very, very long time.

Lonesome Dove. Love it. Even though it was made in '89, it's still great. I swear Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones aren't even acting. Duvall's character, Gus, should go into the smart a** hall of fame. So good.

When the TV mini-series first aired, I watched the finale at my then girlfriends house (now my wife). I remember unashamedly crying for the world to see when Gus died. Going to tear up again I bet.

Whoa!

Sports fans...spending the week in Georgia attending a trade show.  Been out of pocket for a little bit.  

Lots of funny stuff here on the road.  I'll try to turn them into blogs if I can.  That is if I don't pass away stuck on I-85.  People, Atlanta's traffic stinks.  

Cracked and Broke

I have a leaky A-Coil. Shouldn’t I be much older before I have to start worrying about that kind of thing…Wait, that’s not my A-Coil.

The leaky A-Coil dripped water into the furnace and burned out a circuit board. Furnace not-worky so good with out the aforementioned board. Thank goodness it was still under warranty. Didn’t cost anything. This time.

Between a couple of new water heaters (don’t ask), a new sump pump, and a new furnace, my cellar looks like a plumbing and HVAC showroom. I’ve pumped enough money into that sinkhole over the last 18 months to literally make me cry.

Now to my A-Coil. Apparently you have to have a good working A-Coil or your air conditioner is basically useless. A leaky A-Coil also means bad things for your furnace. To top it off, the compressor fan on the air conditioning unit is so bad off that it makes babies cry and dogs howl for about a three block radius every time it comes on.

So this summer I get to buy a new air conditioner. And the Pointer Sisters say “I’m so excited.” Amen ladies. Late this summer I’ll be giving tours of my ultra-modern new appliances. $15 for the hour long tour with commentary by the newly minted millionaire local heating and cooling guy. $25 gets you the tour, commentary, and pictures of what should have been my son’s college education.

"Five."

"Five Dollar."

"Five Dollar Foot" right to the kiester of the person who wrote that jungle.

Please Subway, mother of Mildred please, stop it. Just stop it.

Manchester Meltdown

Yes, you’re a world power. Yes, you have a very rich history dating back several centuries, much longer than we do. Yes, our country was populated by your castaways. However, I still see no reason for the arrogance. Why are all the lymies so full of themselves?

See, I don’t really care that you backpacked your way through Marrakesh when you were in college. Doesn’t make you worldly in my eyes. Just means your parents have money and you don’t mind amoebic dysentery all that much. Yes, I know that you’ve traveled extensively throughout France and Germany. Let’s see, your country is the same size as Louisiana. You can hop a train, cut across the Chunnel, and be from London to Paris in 2.5 hours. Catch that same train and get to Germany, via Brussels, in a little over four hours. I would hope you’ve traveled through Europe.

See pal, I don’t have high speed trains. By car, I can barely be across my own state in four hours. Now, I can get to Arkansas in about three hours, which is like a whole other country. No, it’s not Paris. There’s no Louvre or the Eiffel Tower, but they do speak a foreign language. I’m sure to you, you pinky finger extended while you drink your tea type, that it's not the same thing. Whatever.

My point in all of this is to say, keep talking to me in that tone and I’ll personally insure your family tree appears vertical hence forth. Thank you that is all.

Tonight the Role of Fuzzy Headed Dude Will be Played by Fuzzy Faced Dude

An alert reader pointed out that the creepy fuzzy headed painter dude is dead. Oops.

Filling in this evening, dancing with Elle, will be the incomparable Wilford Brimley...

Up Next on DWTS...

Be sure to tune in next week. We have Mandisa and Verne Troyer, Chuck Norris with Richard Simmons, and Elle Mcpherson paired with that creepy, fuzzy headed, painter dude from public TV.

WAJ Wrap Up

Back. Co-wrote with two people that I had never sat with before. Great sessions both of them. Both sessions started with nothing more than an idea, had to grit out everything. Loved that. Had some great one-on-one sessions and met with a publisher. I call it three for three in terms of accomplishing goals for the weekend.

It’s never easy hearing the word no. You would think that a lifelong career in sales and being married for 15 years would equip a fella to deal with that dreaded word. Still. It’s tough. So, a little disappointed, but it’s all part of the process. The business reasons behind it were irrefutably sound. So, stick and move, stick and move. Just keep punching until the bell rings…Just keep writing.

If you go to WAJ, at some point during the day take a moment and just stop and listen. You can so tell you’re with a bunch of music nerds. 6 out of 10 people are walking around humming something. Two people are singing right out loud, one has an iPod going so loud that they couldn’t sing over it if they tried, and the tenth, well, they re too busy trying to find the choir room to sing or hum.

Great weekend.

WAJ Day Two

The Friday night concert was great as always.

When I hear a great song, two things happen:  

#1) I think holy crap, I could never have made that happen like that

#2) Without fail, it makes me want to pick up a pen and write

Don Poythress' "Joseph" was nails tonight.  There's money lines threaded throughout that thing.  You know its good when all the writers near you let out an audible sigh when the song is over.  The guy's delivery is amazing as well.  Yes, I do hate him.  Hate.  Indeed.

Phil Mehrens shared a great one, as did Gina Boe.  Kevin, oops, I mean Benton Stokes was great as always.  I've noticed that he brings something to a live performance that is usually reserved for studio magic.  Very cool.

Good times people.  Good times.  

WAJ Day One

It's great to see everyone again.  Sue never ages. John is a consummate gentlemen, and I still, for the love of all things holy, cannot find the stinking choir room.   

Random Thoughts:

Twila LaBar rocks the piano.  Little bitty thing, sounds a lot like Jody Foster when she speaks. Pounds the piano like it owes her money.  Awesome.

This just in, Lisa Qualset, from Nebr City, can sing.  Written with her on a few occasions. Never really heard her sing before tonight.  She's got game.

Had a song critiqued.  No matter how many times I do it, it still feels like you voluntarily agree to stand in front of the class in your underwear for 3:40. 

Tomorrow is random co-write day.  Your name get drawn from a hat, you get paired up with someone you may, or may not, have written with before, you go to a little room, and try not to throw up on each other.  It will be important not to suck tomorrow.  Not sucking is a good, good thing.  

Could Nick and Allie LaPointe be any cuter together?  It's just ridiculous. 

Looking forward to tomorrow. 

 

Awareness

Hello from St. Louis.  Were you aware that I'm not home right now, posting remotely?  Were you aware that a king sized Snickers and a Red Bull could cause your heart to explode through the bottom of your feet?  I can actually feel the stroke coming on right now.  Wow! 

Were you aware that 3 out of every 120 people suffer from chronic toe cheese?  I so totally made that up.

How about breast cancer?  Were you aware that this is breast cancer awareness month?  This I did not make up.   Listen ladies, go take the  girls out for a walk and get them checked.  No fooling around.  This is serious.  

...And remember, climbing utility poles is really dumb.

This is has been a public service announcement from the Blah Network.  We now resume regularly scheduled programming.

Write about Jesus time again. Never been to WAJ? Get out! You should go. Register now at www.writeaboutjesus.com. Seriously, do it now. I said now...

It’s like a very weird rehab where they actually encourage you to pursue your habits, equip you to grow in your habits, and then surround with other junkies who are all excited that somone's actually telling them it's OK. Excellent therapy. It’s like band camp for songwriting nerds. Awesome.

This year’s mission is to build relationships, solidify the co-writing network, and avoid the chicken salad. Amen.

Talk amongst yourselves for a few days until I get back.

Home Field Advantage?

So, I went to the Mizzou game this weekend. Took my son. Usually sit on the alumni side. Only tickets I could get for this one were in the student section. My son got to choose the tail-gating menu. His special day. We partied it up with peanut butter sandwiches, Pringles, and Sprite. No that’s not a typo. Peanut butter and Pringles.

Heard all seven of George Carlin’s deadly words copius quantities. Heard two or three others that should have made the list, but somehow didn’t. That was before the end of the first quarter. It got uglier from there.

The highway patrol was fairly active on that side of the field helping with crowd control. One young “lady” drew the attention of two officers nearby our seats. As she was stating her case, her boyfriend apparently took issue with the tone the trooper was using. He pointed his finger at the officer and accidentally made contact with his shoulder. Now, his finger wasn’t loaded, of course, but he was. Clearly. However, that didn’t much matter to the trooper. Kids, never, and I mean never, touch a highway patrolman while in the course of performing his duties. That was one of the only tackles made during the game in that stadium by anyone from Missouri.

Sold out defense, oops, I meant game. Sold out game. I’m talking butt cheek to butt cheek. My son and I were wedged in so tight that we didn’t have to sit or stand, just sort of moved with the collective crowd. There was a group of like six in front of us that left their seat no fewer than 23 times a quarter requiring 1,700 of us to move out of the way.

My stomach had a hard time reconciling the peanut butter and Pringles, the bile rising from the play of the Tigers, the stench of beer and vomit, and the abuse my sides took from the ding dongs next to me getting up and down every two minutes. Good times.

Kansas City to Oklahoma City via New Mexico?

You work for a long time with a client. You quote something. You convince them it’s the right thing to do. You get an order. You build it. You know there’s a tight delivery timeframe. You pick a carrier and cross your fingers. You ship it. You hold your breath.

What should have taken one day will end up taking four because, well, because freight companies are hell incarnate. They’re all permanent residents, Satan’s ambassadors, if you will, placed here among the living to remind us to get right and fear the Lord…

Just for the record, the R&L, in R&L Carriers, stands for Really Late.

New Music Tuesday

Picked up “Little Voice” by Sarah Bareilles.

Generally I have to be in the mood for smart songwriter-singer/singer-songwriter stuff. I hate not getting a song. You know? Plain lazy when it comes to listening and understanding.

That being said, there’s a couple on there that really work for me. “Fairy Tale” works. “Between the Lines” is really well done, although I’m still not quite sure I totally get it. Totally. Makes me want to take piano lessons though.

My favorite is “Gravity”. What a great song and great performance. I dig it when I actually feel the writer’s pain, ending up commiserating by the time the bridge rolls around.

Gravy

Guy had a birthday in the shop. So we brought in lunch today. His choice. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, brown gravy, and peach cobbler.

That, gentle readers, was like poetry on a plate. It spoke to me physically and spiritually.

That plate belted out Steven Curtis’ “Great Adventure”, Commodore’s “Brick House”, James Taylor’s “Steam Roller”, and Aretha’s “Respect” all at the same time.

At the end, when I needed two handi-wipes and wheelbarrow, it quietly whispered “just like momma used to make.”

Testify metloaf with the corn choir raising the roof and sister potato jumping out her pew in the back row waving her gravy hanky around.

Amen Brother!

That Old Familiar Smell

Creation of a seven-year cost recovery period for construction of a motorsports racetrack: Track owners currently follow a seven-year depreciation schedule and write each year's depreciation off their taxes. The IRS wanted to increase the depreciation timetable to 15 years, which would mean the track owner's depreciation would be cut in half. The measure in the keeps the seven-year depreciation schedule for two years and would cost taxpayers $100 million

A refund of excise taxes to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands for rum: A $13.50 per gallon excise tax is placed on rum imported into the United States. The measure extends to December 31, 2009, a refund of $13.25 per gallon tax back to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, which are both U.S. territories. The refund has been in place since the early '90s. The measure would cost taxpayers $192 million.

Provisions related to film and television productions: In order to keep movie production in the U.S., production companies would be allowed to deduct the cost of producing the films from their taxes. Rep. Diane Watson, D-California, has been one of the program's biggest supporters. The measure would cost taxpayers $478 million over 10 years.

Transportation fringe benefit to bicycle commuters: The measure would allow employers to provide benefits to employees who commute to work via bicycle, such as help purchasing and maintaining a bicycle. The measure would cost taxpayers $10 million.

Deduction of state and local sales taxes: The measure allows citizens who do not pay state income taxes to deduct the amount of sales tax they pay over a year from their federal income tax for two additional years. States that benefit include Texas, Nevada, Florida, Washington and Wyoming. The measure would cost taxpayers $3.3 billion.

Read individually, you may wonder about the validity, the usefulness, the necessity of these proposed measures. Right?

Now consider this: they are riders attached to the proposed bailout package, the one that just passed a Senate vote. Not all of them mind, you. Just a sampling.

Can’t spin this. Can’t equate it to a bodily function. Can’t make this funny.
For the record, once again, crooks and self-styled demigods every one of them.

Where Did I Put That 1040 Long Form?

Dancing With The Stars…

To

Dancing Behind Bars …

Next partner will most likely look a bit different!

Crawfish and Killian's Principle, Part III

Now for the bail out…Once the EMS and Haz-Mat crews finished, state EPA and the Governor were called in to assess the situation. They suggested, more like demanded, that I immediately ingest a half gallon of Pepto followed by a six pound chunk of Immodium AD. They would then raid the state’s treasury to pay to clean me up and make me presentable again, and to fund the clean-up for the surrounding area. (Call it the $770 Billion bailout proposal).

As far as I’m concerned, I’m all for the bailout. Remember, I’m a financial institution that knowingly ingested way too much, but I can’t be allowed to crash and burn. Heavens no! There’s my shareholders to consider, and my executive pay that’s due..err..I mean there’s the economy’s health and consumer confidence to consider. I’d be for it as long as there weren’t any nasty riders with the bailout that led to an increase in regulation or scrutiny of my business and only in so much as I can be reasonably assured that I would perhaps be able to receive bail-out funds, be made immune to any prosecution for wrong doing, and can be relatively secure in the knowledge that the financial burden will be born by the suckers, oops, I mean tax paying citizens.

If you were Sammy’s, remember the firm packaging, selling, and making billions off of these fundamentally flawed investments, you want the bail out. You’d like it as long as there weren’t any nasty riders with the bailout that led to an increase in regulation or scrutiny of your business and only in so much as you can be reasonably assured that you would perhaps be able to receive bail-out funds, be made immune to any prosecution for wrong doing, and can be relatively secure in the knowledge that the financial burden will be born by the suckers, oops, I mean tax paying citizens.

If you were anywhere near the Texaco that evening, or let’s say the truly innocent shareholders of now bankrupt financial institutions, or those poor, poor, not-so-innocent people “duped” and “taken advantage of” who invested in these now dreaded adjustable rate mortgages, or borrowers of 125% of the value of their home, you’d be for the bailout regardless of the cost. Even if you had time to consider the fact that this will eventually come back to you in the form of higher taxes.

The rest of you, those not chemically burned from the Chernobyl like fall out, might be asking some questions:

Like shouldn’t Bill Filer help clean up and be financially liable for, Bill Filer’s mess?
Since it’s your tax dollars at stake, should you not have a say as to where it goes?
Should not everyone at the SEC, the FDIC, and the OCC be immediately fired for not stopping the train, or at least getting it to tap the brakes, before it crashed into the station?

I love Cajun food and beer. Always will. I’ll just have to wait a little while until this thing shakes out to see if I can go back to Sammy’s, or maybe find another joint to frequent. Either way, doesn’t really matter, one thing’s for sure: I’m going to eat, and eat, and eat……

The Show

One great thing about getting older is that you start to feel comfortable with the way you are. You feel a certain way about things. May not be right or wrong, but you’re at peace with it regardless.

So I say forgive me, and by that I mean hey if you do, you do and if you don’t you don’t….but I abhor politics and politicians on a national, federal level. Crooks and self-styled demigods everyone. That, dear friends, is my honest belief.

That being said, I can’t wait for the VP debate this evening. Should be good entertainment. A saying comes to mind: “Never argue with an idiot. They tend to drag you down to their level then beat you with experience.”

Which one’s the idiot you ask……..Good question.

Fourth quarter is upon us. Year end looms. About this time, many of us will be due for our annual performance review.

Top Five Things You Never Want To See Written In Your Review
#5) Sets very low personal standards and consistently fails to meet them
#4) Has delusions of adequacy
#3) Somewhere a village has been deprived of its idiot
#2) Since last report, employee has hit rock bottom and started to dig
#1) Employee should go far, and the sooner he starts, the better

Crawfish and Killian's Principle, Part II

Alright, let’s recap from Part I…

You have me as a financial institution gobbling up all the Cajun food in sight. Cajun food, in this case, being high yielding, yet fundamentally flawed mortgage backed investments and access to easy, easy credit. All of these tasty treats being served up by Sammy’s, a reputable vendor, following all of the legal guidelines for food and beverage preparation.

Now kids, what happens when you eat too much? You generally get a tummy ache, right? The extent of the tummy ache depends on the extent of the damage done to the system. In my case, I was in Sammy’s a lot, and I tried everything on the menu. No balance to my diet. No moderation as to quantities consumed. Simply focused on the bottom line, my satisfaction, with no regard for tomorrow.

It started with stomach cramps (call it the slow down in the economy). Stomach cramps progressed to gut pain (call it declining home values). Gut pain and cramps morphed into full on gastric distress (call it the poor economy, mixed with lower home values, add in increasing foreclosures on mortgages, topped with investments in mortgage backed securities turning south) Overburdened and mistreated, my system crashed about a half mile from Sammy’s on the way home one evening (call it the cycle of bank failures, stock market declines, increasing mortgage foreclosures). My disaster took place at a Texaco on the corner of Garfield and Highland. I don’t recall putting the car in park, or turning it off for that matter. I barely made it inside. Gentle readers, I brought hell with me that twilight rendering a six block area near the LSU campus uninhabitable for the next six weeks (Call it the current landscape of the financial markets today).

Let’s make this a three part deal, shall we. Tomorrow, the exciting conclusion: “The Bail-Out”

Today's Headlines

Crawfish and Killian's Principle, Part I

Everyone’s talking about the proposed bail out. What does it all mean? Why do we need it? How much will it cost us? Legitimate questions everyone, worthy of an answer. Need help? Let me break this down for you guys in a way that is easy to understand and appreciate. I’ll break it into two entries for ease of digestion, so to speak…

Go with me, if you will, back to Baton Rouge Louisiana, on the campus of LSU in the summer of 2006. Yours truly was in his third and final year of graduate banking school.

Sammy’s Grill on Highland, a local favorite, had all manner of fantastic Cajun food on the menu. Line after line, row after row of deep fried, cholesterol laden goodness. In addition, there was an endless selection of cold, gold, barley type beverages to choose from (Consider the Food and drink to be mortgage backed securities, adjustable rate mortgages, and much too easy credit and lending standards).

Several of us, when not in class or diligently studying, frequented Sammy’s. Almost, a home away from home, if you will. I was therea lot. Now I, being of sound mind and body, and having reasonable intellect, know that too much fried foods and alcohol, do not a happy colon make. Yet, while there at LSU, I chose to test the limits of common sense and personal safety by attempting to find my maximum capacity of both, repeatedly. (Consider me to be a commercial bank, insurance company, mortgage bank, or financial institution).

Sammy’s sole function was to sell food and beverage. It’s not their job to insure that their customers are eating a well balanced, nutritious diet built upon the solid framework of moderation. In addition, they were so busy, so drunk with the success of their high flying business, that they may have, on occasion, failed to provide a sound quality control check on the ingredients they used to create the irresistible fare currently being devoured by people who ought to know better. (Consider Sammy’s to be a mortgage lender and investment firm packaging up, creating, and selling mortgage backed securities, adjustable rate mortgages, and providing much too easy credit and lending).

There’s me, eating and drinking, then drinking and eating, then, for good measure, eating and drinking some more. It was so good, time after time. How could you pass on it? Eventually, only when I consumed the maximum amount any person could consume, and my system registered dangerously full, I stopped. Simultaneously, Sammy’s found out that some of the raw ingredients they used, OK many of the raw ingredients they used, to create their culinary masterpieces had fundamental flaws in them. Significant flaws that could apparently make people sick if eaten in too great of quantities. Oops.

Part II Tomorrow…

PSA # 317

Having trouble with your kids? Do you have an unruly household? Need some shalom in your home?

Try this: Gather all your kids into the living room. Have a clip board and a pen in your hands and a very serious look on your face.

In an ominous tone, say the following: “Due to the looming economic crisis, some cut backs have to be made. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to let one of you go. I’ll make my decision by the end of the week.”

From that point on, carry your clip board and pen. One of them looks at you funny, scribble furiously. They complain about dinner, scribble furiously. Someone doesn’t make their bed, shake your head a little while scribbling furiously.

Your house will be in order inside of three days guaranteed.

Dr. Phil’s got nothing on me Jack.

Hum????

Need some guidance gentle readers.

When I posted this entry back in 2006 ("Our goal is to be published songwriters, with a cut on the radio, by the time we are 40. 1,541 days to go."-originally posted August 8, 2006), I assumed the process would work like this:

Inspiration=Song=Demo=
Publisher=Artist=Recording=Cut

As per my usual, however, I didn’t drill down to specifics.

Didn’t think about such things as does it matter who the artist is, what about a self-published song, does the radio station need a minimum wattage amount to qualify, or does it need to be a reporting station. These things matter…or do they?

“Do The Math” goes into rotation at KNMO 97.5 FM in Nevada, Missouri on Monday.

Good right? Technically, it’s our song, picked up by an artist, released as a single, and being played on the radio. Should I care that it’s a self published song, recorded by my brother, being played on a station that requires you to be across the street at the Sonic to get signal?

Accepting this as the successful completion of the goal somehow feels like cheating. Yet not acknowledging it diminishes the event entirely, making me an ungrateful yelp. See my conundrum? Can you see the smoke and hear the gears grind from there?

I’m happy for Chris. Really. No interest at all in putting on the artists pants myself. Not even to try them on. But I celebrate with him today at the news. How fun is that?

Hey, I asked for a hamburger only. Now I’m complaining cause I got one with onions. Maybe, the next time I ought to be a bit more specific…

Funny

From Conan O'Brien's monologue...

"Yesterday, the President of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, challenged John McCain to a debate. But McCain says if he wanted to be attacked by an extremist in an unfair environment, he’d appear on MSNBC."

News Flash!!

This Just In..

Water is wet!

I.E.D. Device (Inept Exploding Dad)

Last night, at approximately 11:00 pm, a cadre of malicious 10 year-olds perpetrated an act of senseless violence that has rocked our fair city to its core.

Materializing out of nowhere, hidden in the concealment of the dark hour, they emerged, enforce, and brought their considerable powers to bear on my unsuspecting vehicle as I made my way home from a late night plying the writing trade.

Without warning, without provocation, a barrage of water balloons were loosed upon me in a furry that had no equal. Besieged on both sides by these pre-teen insurgents, I was forced to lock up the brakes, fall down in the seat, curl up in a fetal position and wonder aloud as to the state of parenting in this country.

At last, mercifully, the assault came to and end with my attackers melting back into the misty night, unseen, undetected, no doubt bolstered in their resolve by the unequivocal success of their latest act of urban terrorism.

In shock, still not quite able to fully grasp the severity of the situation, I emerged from my vehicle to assess the damage. Fear turned to anger as I looked up from my water soaked vehicle and gave out my battle cry. Something guttural, something instinctive, something from deep within the subconscious requiring no forethought or preparation escaped my lips. I am certain that it struck fear into the hearts of my assailants, making them reevaluate their allegiances, their blind adherence to a code of conduct so unbecoming, so tragically untenable. Indeed.

The moon, as it crested past its meridian height, and no doubt the 10-15 nearby neighbors, felt the white hot intensity of my seething anger as I raised my clinched fist and shouted for those misguided hooligans, and hooligans the world over, to hear.

….You….Darn….Kids.

(Oh yes, they’re scared now. No doubt about it.)

It's Out...Finally

Well, we had the big party over the weekend. I stopped counting at 300 people, which was great.

I purposely stopped listening to the rough mixes coming in just so I could be surprised at the final product. I’m glad I did. It was like hearing them for the first time. Everything came out great.

Gentle readers, the CD’s arrived from the duplicator at about 11:00 pm the night before the release concert. Nonetheless, they’re here.

Just in time for the holidays, be sure to get your copies. They make great stocking stuffers, and I’m told will help with acid reflux, phlebitis, male pattern baldness, and those embarrassing night-time trips to the bathroom. Be sure to pick up one or six.

Dennis Dearing from Menace Music came down for the concert. That was a nice touch. He did a great job. If you’re looking for some help with a project or a demo, give Dennis a call.

Commercial Uprising

Seriously, I’ve had just about enough of the Viagra and Cialis ads saturating all forms of media.

In these trying times, I think it necessary that the President sign an executive order funneling all advertising monies the drug companies have budgeted for those two products into the economy. If that doesn’t get the Dow Jones average up, pardon the pun, nothing will. If you experience a Bull market lasting more than four hours, please contact an investment professional right away…blach.

Another thing, the Cialis ads featuring a happy couple soaking in side-by-side tubs seemingly out in the middle of nowhere are entirely too farcical to be allowed to continue. Any married guy worth his salt knows exactly what would happen if you showed up on a romantic get away to that.

She’d start with “I know the description on Travelocity said the bathrooms were spacious, but this is ridiculous.” Followed quickly by “look, there’s no plug-ins anywhere. Capped off by the inevitable, “Don't even think about it sparky!”

Look, I understand the need. God bless them for figuring it out-ranks right up there with frozen pizza and the remote control in terms of things man shouldn’t have to live without-but come one. Enough already.