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.