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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.

To Blog Again...

Hello Gentle readers. Remember me? It's been too long. I'm alive and well thank you very much. Just haven't been blogging the past couple of weeks. All sorts of reasons, none of them particularly interesting, or valid for that matter.

You know, not blogging, not venting the smart-ass valve, isn't exactly beneficial to my health. I don't feel right. Not surprising, I guess, that by seeking out stupid and happy, you end up feeling stupid and happy. Makes sense right.

I've missed both political conventions, "Lipstick on a Pig", Lindsey Lohan issues, OJ back in court, I've been to Florida, Texas, and DC recently, passed on FEMA stories, bank collapses, and Wall Street scandals. On top of that, I'm still trying to write songs. Stupid abounds people. I just need to avail myself of it.

Miraculously, I've avoided calling anyone by the wrong name, driving into anything, calling friends from Georgia claiming they are on KLOVE, stepping on myself, or insisting that Sue S. definitely wants to co-write for at least a couple of weeks now. Usually I am an endless fount of inspiration when it comes to stupid.

I'm sure I'll hit my stride again soon. As my wife will certainly attest, you can't keep me from stupid for long. If there is any consolation, the song writing machine has been in full gear lately. I hate to mess with the balance of things, but stupid is as stupid does...right Forrest?

Back, Sort Of

I miss blogging. Miss it. Seems I've been an inattentive blog parent lately. Gina, this would be a good time for you to throw that in my face. I will officially get off my blogging butt here and commence with the merriment in short order....but not today.

Gone all week at a trade show. Back in the office early Monday to dig out from under the mess on my desk only to find the Internet and e-mail not functioning and limited to only two phone lines-some sort of I.T. melt down.

The mountain of catch-up that lies before me is impressive indeed.

I shall return. Promise.

Willie Nelson Lied

"...Just can't wait to get on the road again."  Bunk.  Willie was high when he wrote that.  Had to be.

I'm in our nation's capital, as Forrest would say.  Be here through Sunday.  Missing my son's first football game.  Feel like a heel.  

I'm attending the AARP show.  There should be some blog worthy events from this.  

Peace.

Summer

This is it. Say goodbye to summer. We camped our last, water funned our last, sun burned our last until next year. The pop-up has been parked, the bug spray buried under the sink in bathroom, and the life vests neatly stowed away.

My first grader goes to school tomorrow. Fall sports season is already underway. Mom’s back on her normal schedule. My fall travel schedule is filling already. It took all of about 45 seconds to switch gears. Sad really.

There should be a ceremony or something to mark this day. Shouldn’t there? You can’t let a summer like we’ve just had pass so unceremoniously, marked only by the occasional anecdotal remembrance going forward, or maybe picking up the odd photo album every now and again.

No. We should build an altar on cedar and birch kindling, place a huge S’more atop, and set it ablaze. Around the pyre we should do the chigger jump and mosquito slap dance while singing She’ll Be Comin’ Round The Mountain in a trancelike incantation.

Yeah, maybe not, but what a great summer. I will miss going to sleep to the sounds of katydids and cicadas, and the smell of the camper's cocktail(bug spray, sunblock, and wood smoke). We’ve got all fall and winter to think of an appropriate encore.

This one might be hard to top…