Redneck Hoo-ha

Testing 1 2 3

2010-09-28T00:58:00.003-05:00

Wow... I haven't been here in forever...

does anyone miss me?

Hell... does anyone even REMEMBER me, for that matter...

..

..

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Feels like a Monday.

More bitchin about our stupid new Civil Remedial Fees crap

2007-07-21T03:28:00.000-05:00

So here are some of the Civil Remedial Fees I mentioned...
Current mood: tired
Category: News and Politics

Just so you know, here are some of the numerous "civil remedial fees" we Virginians, and ONLY we Virginians will have to pay, should we ever get tagged for any of the offenses, regardless of reason:

Driving on a suspended license - 1st offense.........750
3rd offense in 10 years.............................3000
aggressive driving (judgment call here)...............1050
Improper operation of a motorcycle
(another judgment call)..................................900
operate motor vehicle w/below standard tires
(whatever the hell THAT means)......................900
Not having a drivers license on you
(yeah, you better have yours)............................900
Learner's permit violation...................................900
Reckless Driving.................................................1050
DUI and related.................................................2250
Driving after drinking, under 21, regardless of BAC..2250
Various Driving Misdemeandors..............................900
Like Refusing Blood/Breath test for WHATEVER reason
Any Driving Felonies...........................................3000

And, remember, ALL of these fees are above and beyond the fines that we would get charged for these infractions... and NONE of them can be waived... EVER.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the bit about how long they will now keep track of our "bad driving points"....

11 years

no, I'm not joking.

FYI - Most insurance companies don't even keep track of that for more than 3 years...

and if we gather up 8 demerit points during those 11 years? We have to pay extra to keep the privilege of driving.

Those fees are $100 a year for as long as there are eight or more demerit points, plus $75 for each demerit beyond eight, up to a max of $700.

A speeding 0-9 mph ticket will get you 3 demerits. 10-19 gets you 4, if I am not mistaken. Other infractions generally score you 3-4 demerits, mmkay?

But don't worry - see, with a whole good year of driving, you get to add A WHOLE 1 POINT back for "good behavior". (You can, it must be stated, take a safe driver course for 5 bonus points... but you can only do that once every 5 years... or maybe they've changed it to 11 years too... I don't know for certain)

SOOOO... if you should, say, get 3 speeding tickets in those 11 years, you could end up paying an extra $175-400 PER YEAR until you get those points back to 8 or less. The max fee for demerit points is a mere $700 per year.

Of course, this only affects Virginians, so like I said, speed away, oh ye tourists!

Personally, I think the Virginia State Senate needs to be taken out back and beaten.

And before you misread me and think that I am simply complaining about not being allowed to drive "badly", I must reiterate my major complaints about this law.

The judge cannot waive a fee, even if the reasons are good (like my suspended license tale of woe from years ago)
It violates the specific amendment against "excessive fines" - since WE are THE PEOPLE and WE are obviously decrying these amounts, then certainly they must be viewed as excessive
The whole 11 years of tracking my driving record and only 8 demerit points before getting spanked?? You could get that over 3 years with, let's see, a ticket for malfunctioning equipment (like a headlight that is out), a speeding ticket and, say, a rolling stop. Over THREE years!! (if you get a ticket, you don't get that 1 big point back for good behavior, see?) Normally, most people would say that isn't really that bad of a driving record.... and God forbid you forget your driver's license in your other pants!!! (That'll be 900 bucks please, thank you)
It violates the constitutionality of equal protection under the law - this is truly my biggest issue - if we gotta pay, why shouldn't EVERYONE??

So there ya go... last I checked, there were some 60,000 online petition signatures. Keep 'em rolling in! Write your representative directly, too!

Highway Robbery

2007-07-19T00:55:00.000-05:00

I'm sure by now that many of you have heard about the ridiculous new "civil remedial fees" that Virginia residents have to submit to when driving in their own, home state.

Now, several supporters of these fees simply say, "Well, don't drive like an idiot."

I can't agree with them more. People who drive like idiots do cause a lot of accidents. People who drink and drive cause a lot of accidents. Yes, they should be punished.

But (and again, it's a big but...)

They just don't get it.

The government is creating legislation that is unfair in its scope and outrageous in its structure, not to mention the major question about its very constitutionality.

Here is the 8th amendment to our Constitution.

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

But who is it, exactly, that determines what is excessive? Well, WE do... at least we, in theory, do so through our elected representatives.

"Basically, what we have here is a failure to communicate..." Our fine state legislators have somehow gotten it in their heads that we feel these fines are adequate and just.

Of course, let's not mention some of these fines, already extant in Virginia law:

Grand larceny - a FELONY. Has a fine of up to 2500. This, of course, can be waived, just like all other fines in the legal code. - I guess speeding is, oh, about equal to Grand larceny, eh?

Class 5 and 6 Felonies in Virginia carry a maximum fine of up to 2500, in fact... and 1 to 10 years in jail.

But every one of the fines can be waived arbitrarily by the judge.

NOT SO with these new "civil remediation fees".

And don't even get me started about that name... makes it sound like they are punishing children. How condescending must these legislators be to rule from on high and smack our wee hands for being bad. Bad driver! Bad bad driver! Here's a $3000 timeout for you.

I was at school and sent off a check for a ticket I received. Chesterfield County processed the check... but they sure didn't account for it in my DMV records. So I was riding around with a suspended license for 6 months, when I was tagged for it at a surprise check point one night.

Thank God this happened years ago, or I'd be kissing 750 bucks goodbye for no good reason.

Did I mention said fees can run up to $3000??

Did I mention that these fees ABSOLUTELY CANNOT BE WAIVED?

So you could, in theory, go commit grand larceny, be found guilty, get probabtion and no fine and walk.... but if you were driving on a suspended license (EVEN IF YOU WERE NEVER INFORMED IT WAS SUSPENDED), you would have to pay $750 PLUS court costs and fees?

But the REAL topper?

The BIG cherry on top?

The straw that really irks most of us
law-abiding Virginians, in fact?

IT ONLY APPLIES TO VIRGINIA RESIDENTS

So recklessly speed away, all you out-of-town visitors to our state. Drive drunk on our roads and you get a smack on the hand...

IF THEY EVEN PULL YOU.

Since we are now looking for highway revenue via these fees, who do YOU think will be pulled first? Do you really, REALLY think they'll stop some Jersey boy rolling by at 80mph on a 55mph highway, when he could nab one of us poor saps doing "only" 76 in a 55 zone? - and if you drive on I-95, you KNOW that traffic speed - which is the TRUE safe speed to drive - often runs in the 15-25 over the limit neighborhood...

Ummm... one lil other thing - That speeding 20 and over, which is NOT automatically reckless driving in Virginia, will get you smacked for $2250 my friend...

The 14th Amendment of the Constitution states:

No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

And yet, here we are, Virginians... suffering from less than equal protection in our own freakin back yard??

Screw that.

Is THAT why we are a Commonwealth and NOT a state?

DAMMIT

2007-07-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

Less than a week from the wedding....

we had to reschedule it.

The simple reasons follow:

project at work needed to be finished. ABSOLUTELY
family
friends

You wouldn't think it would be so difficult to have a "simple" wedding, right? Just simple "hop-on-the-beach-do-you-yup-do-you-yup" ceremony, right?

Well... how wrong I was.

New date? September 1st.

Now, I just gotta survive that long...

Tall Tale Tuesday

2007-06-12T11:52:00.000-05:00

Hey, I just won

the MEGA MILLIONS LOTTERY!!!

okay, yeah... I'm lying.

who needs a day job?

2007-06-11T16:21:00.000-05:00

Oh, that's right.

I do.

But if I could make enough money from music to pay all my bills AND get me and a family some health insurance?

Yeah, I'd be doing music. It's my love, my passion, and my creative release. It is what gets me through some of the days I've had at my day job. It is a total Jeckyll and Hyde situation - at work, I'm grumpy, irritable, arrogant, difficult to work with, tense, and not well pleased... probably not well liked either, given the description set before...

But when I'm playing music? I'm affable, bouncy, relaxed, upbeat, gregarious, and from what I've been told - funny and fun to be with.

But I guess that's what day jobs often end up being - all work and no play.

It's not that I don't do my job, though at times I really have to grit my teeth to make it through the day - but the atmosphere the company presents me with and the feelings they have engendered through our corporate step-parentage - ie. we're treated like black sheep, redheaded stepchildren at our office - doesn't exactly give me the motivation to come to work all happy and pleased.

Add to that the fact that the people whose company I have enjoyed working with, even through some stressful conflicts, have all quit and gone on to better, brighter skies and you're left with an uncool situation overall.

So here I come, Megamillions. The new winner you NEED to pick!

Hey, I could start a NEW company with THAT kind of cash!

Ahh...

dare to dream...

Ego

2007-06-04T15:42:00.000-05:00

Which came first? Musicians or ego?

Let's discuss... you first.

In All Fairness

2007-05-11T10:56:00.000-05:00

I've had a number of people complaining about fairness to me in the past week or so and I thought it might be a good idea to get it out of my system and see what anyone else had to say on the topic.

Fairness is a difficult thing to claim. Everyone can claim they were unfairly treated, when in fact they were treated exactly as stated in the rules, or exactly as they deserved, or exactly as they SHOULD be treated. Much of it is a matter of perception, methinks, and oft times it seems that some who claim unfairness simply don't understand the whole situation or the rules or the laws involved.

And I've been smacked on the head a few times by the law for that one... and even I have said that "it wasn't fair".

I've had a few situations where people have complained to me at my open mic for this, that, or the other. One person thought it was unfair that some other people played before them... another thought I gave them less time than the large group of people who just happened to play before them.

Well, in the latter situation, is it fair for me to give a whole band the same 20 or so minutes I give to any individual jammer when there are 5 of them playing in the band AND they came all the way from San Diego on tour and graced my little show with their awesomeness to promo their local shows AND they really rocked the house (and I'm all about making a good show first) AND they were very cool about it? And in the former, well, I think it was a matter of perception because the complainant was actually next-to-last to arrive and I adhere to the fairness of the "first come, first choice" rule.

At work, my entire division has been pretty unfairly treated by our parent company. Of course, from our perspective, that's undeniable... on the other hand, all they see up north is the dollars and cents... and they see no sense in treating us any better since our sales are in the toilet.

Of course, a smart man would have realized long ago that sales is something that a salesman does... and no sales? Well, who would YOU punish?

Right, the so-called salesman. Instead? They punished the one salesman who was actually making sales, limited as they were by them tying his hands together. And then they've punished the development staff ... which makes NO sense. Without a development staff, how are we going to deliver software in the WAY off-chance that our non-salesman actually manages to bullsh@t his way to a purchase order?

That's not just unfair. It's stupid.

But I guess that's just MY perception, eh? It's not my buck that's paying for us to get screwed down here, is it? Ahh well...

It was also recently stated that I had unfairly treated an ex. Now, in all honesty, for MOST of my exes? Well, yeah, probably so... but relationships are such a 2-way street and there is always a lot of tit-for-tat going on. But in THIS particular case? Not so.... and I won't even go into details about how unfairly I was treated that made us both exes in the first place. I'm just glad, honestly, that she's found a path to a smile and that it doesn't involve putting me under asphalt.

There was another situation from the way back machine. I managed to get in good with a local production company that ran a lot of the big name concerts in the Richmond area. Actually, it was a friend of mine who got us hooked in to this deal. What we did was brought them sushi from this great little local shop, and gave it to the production company. In return they gave us tickets and back stage passes. Cool, yeah? ( too bad the company went under around here! )

Then came the Metallica show (the big tour for their "black" album). 10 of us got involved in getting sushi and it cost us an average of 10 bucks each for our share (we all split the costs, cause that was fair). Unfortunately, there were only 8 backstage passes. Well, my friend and his brothers and their friends took 6 tix and passes, leaving me 4 tix and 2 passes.

I had my best friend with me, another good friend, and this girl who really wanted to hook up with me all along with me. That's 4 people and only 2 passes. I complained to my buddy who got the deal and his brothers said, well, first come, first served and they got to the sushi shop first.

Great.

So then I got to complain about fairness...

And then we got to the show and my best friend snagged one of the 2 passes, since she really did do a lot of the leg work for this deal and really got in good with the promoters (she's SCARY good at that sort of thing and has gotten me backstage to all sorts of events with her talent at talking to people and not taking "no" for an answer). So that was fair. And it was my friend who got the original deal, so that's one for me. My other friend started giving me grief about it and so did the girl who wanted to hook up with me.

Mind you, I never said one way or the other about reciprocating those feelings at the time.

So I had to hear them complain about fairness. Of course, they were invited last minute cause we had the 2 extra tix, and they didn't do any work for the sushi so they basically got $30 tickets for only 10 bucks. So how unfair was it, really?

All in the perception.

In the end, they managed to get 2 more backstage (Snake Pit) passes and we all enjoyed the show from under/in the stage and got to watch Lars and all the rest of them hammer out the heavy metal from WAY close up.

And I got an autographed drum stick out of it.

Sweet.

So, alls well that ends well, I guess.

the challenge

2007-05-08T10:38:00.001-05:00

What follows is not the most cohesive entry I've ever written, but the drugs they gave me to keep me mobile, upright, and keep my lungs and back from exploding are being NO help with that.

Rewind it a few days though and between fits of coughing my brain cells out of my head, I managed to go see my niece graduate from college this weekend while at the same time enjoy, for the most part, a miniature (and all too short) family reunion.

My favorite first nephew, or at least the oldest one, and I have had an ongoing smack-talk fest about our billiards skills. It has been going on for years, but the last time we managed to be in the same pool hall, much less the same state, was four years ago.

It was a draw.

No, really.

Okay, well... I did manage to win a few and we both had large laughs as we both flirted with the cute waitress at the bar.

That was a weird experience, flirting with a waitress with your much younger nephew... but, hey, it was fun.

He currently lives in Texas and serves in the Army, for those interested in the details, while here I am in RVA (Richmond, Virginia, for those not in the know with the lingo) so our chances to play are few and far between. He has been serving our nation in Iraq for the past 7 months and we've been "harassing" each other about that 9-ball rematch for months with fine little jabs as these:

So when you get back, make sure you're ready for another lesson.
Exercise your back... cause you're gonna bend over all those times to rack 'em.
I'm ready to play - the extra money will make a nice down payment on my next new car.

You get the idea.

Well, he managed to get lucky and his short 15 days of leave would occur right when my niece was graduating from JMU and everyone in the fam just happened to be able to get free for this one weekend.

Next thing you know, it became a family reunion.

It's nice to see family - it's really nice to see how easily we fall back in to the same old family routines we had from the way back time - after dinner kidding, the younger generation jumping up on the getting old one for some rasslin', hootin, and hollerin... and discussions of bad jokes past and times aplenty fill the rooms with warmth of memories of hearth and home...

Ahhh... reminiscing... both my brothers and their wives and all the kids... Even the newest youngest one has started to come out of his quiet little shell and show he does indeed come from the same obnoxious, arrogant, funloving family tree.

And, of course, with my first nephew back in the same state, well... we were gonna get to settle the smack talk for real. He even brought his own sticks to his flight so he'd be well-armed.

And wouldn't you know it? Security changes from 9/11 have caused such a ruckus in what is allowed and NOT for luggage.

His pool cues?

Not allowed.

I guess they're afraid he would knock the pilots balls into a corner pocket or something...

Anyway, we had to deal with the Lords of Lost Luggage as his sticks had to come over on a completely separate flight, arriving some 3 hours after the rest of the family. These are the people who claim complete and total ignorance as to the true location and/or nature of your lost luggage. Plausible deniability, I say, in case they happen to like whatever happens to be "missing".... either that, or they are the ones who send lost luggage to the place where ball point pens and single socks go...

And as the black sheep of the family, I got to stay behind and wait for Nick's Sticks to arrive.... but, hey, Nick waited with us.

It was really nice getting to chill out on my deck for a few hours, just sitting in the beautiful sun, drinking beers with my nephew. He's a good kid... and chicks dig him.

Bonus. Almost as good as taking a puppy to the park, having him with me at the bar.

Oh, and the rematch?

A draw.

And I've been informed that the rubber match has to be held in Texas, his home turf.

Great.

Anyone here know how to speak Texan?

Definitions to help you through the weekend...

2007-04-27T16:36:00.000-05:00

pre-business - what the smart geek will tell you he is studying instead of engineering.

the one - a mythical beast that exists only in fairy tales and in the minds of schizophrenics.

the other - what one calls his/her significant other when they realize that my definition of "the one" is correct so far...

the one right now - what generally happens in bars late at night, after several rounds

a girl with a great personality - see above

a really nice guy - see above

"let's just be friends" - "you just might be the one, for all I know, but you just seem like (a really nice guy / a girl with a great personality) so it won't like happen... not even if you were the one right now."

f**kbuddy - an alternate version of the other...

cropdusting - the art of farting in a location and walking away, leaving a trail of... scent to catch the unwary. Most often done in grocery or retail stores, the cropduster often stays at one end of the aisle to see what effect his chemical dispersion has on its victims, intended or otherwise.

cock-blocking - Causing interference between a predator and his intended victim, pre coitus. Acting in such a manner as to eliminate any chance of said predator of scoring.

wingman - the one who gets to pick up the OTHER person at the table where the hottie is sitting, or at least prevent the intended target's wingman from properly protecting his/her interests and/or safety. Unfair treatment of a wingman can easily lead to cock-blocking by said wingman, so be kind to your wingman.

mating call - when the blonde says, "I'm SOOOO drunk." Can also cause the spontaneous eruption of cock-blocking occurrences across an entire room.

My apologies to all for the lameness of this post, but it's the best I could come up with on such short notice and with only a few minutes on hand to make some crap up (and borrow things I've heard, of course)... feel free to add to this list. Perhaps I will make a compendium of it and create a new subsection of the Wiktionary with just these types of words and phrases... could be fun.

Have a great weekend all! I got a ton of birthday/reception/pool parties to go to...

after I mow my lawn.

Dammit.

So...

2007-04-26T15:58:00.000-05:00

I've been taking a beating from numerous people these past MONTH for a decision I made after a REALLY long 2 and a half year sojourn in life. It wasn't a decision lightly made - I mean, come on, it took over 2 years - nor was it made as a statement or anything else. It certainly wasn't one of the most popular decisions I've ever made - of course, popular decisions are never hard ones, except perhaps on the individual. When the individual makes a choice that is UNpopular is when they truly must test the character of their conviction in the face of those who oppose...

and so it is with me.

But you would think that after a month of it, it would let up.

I guess not.

The worst part about decisions like this is that it unfortunately can be the thing that draws the line on the map, dividing those who wish to be your friends through the good and bad times, and those to whom you were apparently no more than a convenience, oddity, entertainment, or somehow otherwise useful. Sad, but true.

or perhaps it is my viewpoint about friendship that is skewed.

It is quite possible.

I've had friends who hated other friends I had. It was never a comfortable situation for me, but as one who always takes the devil's advocate role, I've found that the truth is found in the middle, and perception truly is what makes the demarcations as clear as they seem to be... but the truth is almost always some other shade of pale. But I could keep both sets of friends, if only because I am ever the one who hopes those oft-foolish divisions can somehow be mended with the passing of time...

sometimes even I am the optimist, rather than the realist I claim to be.

I would simply deal with them as individuals... I kept them separate... I avoided the topic of the "enemy" and simply kept them compartmentalized that way until I could find opportunities to try and mend those broken and shattered fenceposts.

I suppose that's why it hurts the most when those who call you friend turn their back on you when times like these arise...

but I guess there is something to be said for those of fair weather... cause at least you can enjoy the sunshine sometimes when the ones who hold you up in the storm are out at sea...

And Just So We're Clear on This

2007-04-18T12:36:00.000-05:00

I know Yoko got all sorts of media attention and publicity. It's amazing what one can accomplish by riding on the coattails of a famous genius. At that level of public appeal or notoriety, even BAD publicity is GOOD publicity.

Just look at Courtney Love. We "know" she had Kurt killed, don't we? And Anna Nicole Smith? Those breasts earned her large bank and the ability to actually have a television show which was popular just for her drug-addled antics!

Yoko was probably not the first.

But she's probably still one of the most famous/infamous.

She killed the Beatles.

Well, she probably didn't kill the Beatles ACTUALLY, but she certainly provided the fuel and drive to break the camel's back and drive a wedge around our famous genius John Lennon.

It doesn't take an honorary doctorate or even a grammy won on a coattail to figure THAT out...

I Got Yoko Ono'd

2007-04-16T10:06:00.000-05:00

That's right. I got Yoko Ono'd right out of the band.

be my, be my, be my Yoko Ono Whoa-whoa-whoa

How ironic that not just a week or so ago we considered learning that song at one of our fun two-man practices... and now, whoa, irony.

I've since vented and now I'm just sad. I feel sad for lots of people, including myself, who had to somehow get swept up in a drama that never should have been - as most drama never should be - a drama that was pent up full of annoyances, grievances, frustrations, questionable choices, misconceptions, misperceptions, and a few flat out lies to give it a nasty bite...

the end result is still the same
without a band I so remain
my question still is what's been gained
the cheese being rubbed out like a stain?

Sad.

And who really lost here? Maybe everyone. Lots of people seem to be making themselves out to be the victim here... myself included. But who really lost here? Well, I definitely did. And some made sure they'd lost what was left of my friendship. And maybe I count myself a better friend than I really am... probably so. I think we all like to think of ourselves as being really good at being a friend... so who knows? I know in some ways, I really am a crappy friend... but I also know I do have your back when it counts.

And maybe that's enough.

Maybe.

It's enough for me.

And who knows? Maybe I've gained something I never thought to notice before.

My manhood.

Could be. News at 11.

Song in the Key of Key-rap

2007-04-13T13:26:00.000-05:00

So once again, it looks as if my band's very existence is threatened.... along with friendships that are years old. And for what?

I suppose you could say it's my stupidity. Maybe it's my overabundance of "guydom"/lack of "manhood" - those of you who know Lloyd Dobbler know of which I speak.

I should have said something then about all that I knew then. Should have been direct and confronted all parties and gotten everyone together... but I played like a guy and just let it slide.

In retrospect, that was a REAL stupid move.

Ahh well... maybe I'll go into more detail later. I am just so tired of this unnecessary KEY-RAP!

Some People Need to be slapped. Really

2007-01-31T14:03:00.000-05:00

I've heard a number of people saying some of the dumbest, most annoying things about the men and women who choose to serve in the armed forces.... the biggest loser said the following:
"...if your son's job [in the marines] is so damned important, then why isn't he dead yet?"

No. I am NOT kidding.

And this came from a suburban d00d who works at a local Sam's Club as a... what did he say? Technical Advisor/Forklift Operator. To me that reads as "STOCK BOY". But I'm not here to insult him directly. Oh no, cause there are several people who said many nearly as idiotic things - like the one boss who threatened to fire a man whose son was about to go back to Iraq because it was his third tour of duty, or the one woman who said to one distraught mother that she shouldn't be so worried cause it's "just like sending her own son off to college."

Umm, excuse me?

I don't recall seeing too many IED's and dogs with explosives loaded up their hoo-hole the last time I took a class at VCU or Va Tech. I don't remember seeing a lot of sandbags surrounding the campus compound to deter snipers and insurgents. Biggest thing I saw were sobriety checkpoints and plenty-o-pretty girls. I'm also thinking the ratio of women to men at your typical base in Iraq is quite a bit worse than your standard co-ed university, eh?

It astounds me how some people think. Now, this is what I said in response to the blog where I read several of the things these people said:

People who say these things live a nice, sheltered life. They live in America, where all things should be happy and wonderful and the biggest problems in their lives generally deal with the following:

Where to go Friday night?
is their spouse/significant other cheating on them?
Does s/he like me?
Golly, I don't like my job.
What am I gonna eat tonight?

And while these earth-shattering issues confront many of us all the time, as well as the boys who have taken their voluntary service in the military, it is a sad sign that these people don't live in the whole, real world. They live in their own little space and nothing else matters except how it affects them. Their unfortunate and selfish narrow-mindedness is an unfortunate side effect of living in a nation where we take our freedoms for granted. Freedoms that others volunteer to protect and keep for us. These punk bitches and misguided , naive idiots don't have the guts or the gear to understand that there really is a much wider world out there and that things "out there" can affect them just as readily. Without what these boys do, we wouldn't have the freedom to say these simply pathetic, stupid, and downright insulting things to or about them.

Politics or no, the fact that these boys all volunteered to serve, full well knowing that the possibility of being deployed in a dangerous combat zone, means that the ONLY thing we should do is support them and respect them for doing that which we cannot or will not do for ourselves.

Period.
No discussion.
That's all there is to it.

Jack Nicholson said it best in these lines from A Few Good Men:

"Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to."

Moments..

2007-01-11T10:42:00.000-05:00

Ever have one of "those moments of clarity"? You know, those moments when you suddenly realize some sort of universal truth... or at least a truth that's within your own little universe, as some of us like to live in or retreat to (my friend calls hers "La La Land").

Sometimes they can be good - like you just went to work and there is all this crap going on and some changes coming down the pike and then *bing* you realize that what it means for you will be a raise or promotion? Or maybe you're a writer, and you've been toying around with an idea for months, but haven't quite found the route to get to the point you want to make? Yeah, and then suddenly, as you stand there observing the Brownian motion (a true effect) of the coffee and cream in your mug, it hits you *BAM* and then you scramble for that pen and paper or keyboard and you can't write nearly fast enough cause the whole answer is right in your head?

But they aren't always good - sometimes things just hit you and you realize just how badly you might have screwed something up - like maybe you were on a date and things were rolling along nicely and then you said one stupid thing... and you thought she had a funny look on her face but things went on and you dropped her off... got home... hit the pillow... then, just as sleep is about to take you away, *WHAM* you realize that you've just insulted her entire family and/or culture and that you have basically, totally, screwed the pooch?

For me, as a programmer and a musician/songwriter/rock-star-wannabe, it happens sometimes at the oddest moments.... sometimes it's inspiration, sometimes desperation, and some of it can be perspiration... and sometimes it just happens cause you took some time, or maybe too much time, not doing much of anything. For me, today, I got whacked by an email at work.

.
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Wonder where this is going to take me?
.
.
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Or is it just me? Am I the only nut in a basket full of shells?
.
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Probably...
.
.

Happy New Years, everyone

2007-01-10T13:47:00.000-05:00

The end of 0h-6 was a bit on the rough side for me... busy, busy, busy, sick, sick, sick

You know how much fun pneumonia is on New Years?

None at all.

I ALMOST have my Volvo, blessed heated seats and all, ready to sell off... but not quite.

Wanna know how my luck ran with this process?

Well, I busted my hump to get my Volvo's brakes replaced. That was fun, considering one of the calipers decided that it REALLY liked being in the "I am braking for dear life" position. The other thing that needed fixing was the front suspension - the struts, to be exact. So I went out and spent all this money (and 2 weekends of my life, which I will never get back) to replace the strut cartridges in the front. Yes, 2 weekends.

So how is my luck, you're asking?

Well, it would have been 1 weekend but for ONE, SINGLE, SOLITARY FREAKING NUT AND WASHER that decided to pop off and fall into the mysterious dark confines of the engine bay as I was bolting up the last bits of the second strut.... so I had to go get replacements the next weekend to get them installed.

Wanna hear more fun luck stuff?

So I get the struts all done up and ready to go. I clean up the work area, gas up the car, start her up and decide it's time for a little test drive.

And away we went.

I took her down the road and swerved and swayed about, stomping on the brakes here and there to get a good feel on my workmanship. The ride was a bit mushy for my tastes - considering the fact that my normal daily rides are either a Del Sol or Camaro, well, just about ANY ride will feel a bit mushy in comparison, particularly in the queen of all soccer mom rides, right? But it handled all the bumps and potholes with aplomb and it didn't make that very discomforting "thunking" noise it had been making whenever it went over any difficult terrain - a good sign.

All seemed well, right?

Well, I got back home, and having even taken her out on the highway for some smooth, high-speed test-riding, having done some hard braking and swerving to check out the suspension and brakes in full, as I pulled into my driveway, I felt pretty satisfied that I could now get her inspected, clean her up all nice and spiffy, and sell her in short order...

And THAT's when I saw the driver's side front turn signal lens was gone.

GONE.

It was there not 15 minutes before, as in right before I took her for a test drive. I know it was there before, because I took a few seconds doing that good old-fashioned, "swizzle the car with a dust rag" thing that all mechanics did in all the old tv shows, ya know?

So can you believe that the damned thing, that freaking little clear plastic lens cover, just FELL OFF as I took her for a 15 minute test drive?

Yeah, let's talk about my luck.

So is this a sign that I should just keep the car or what? It does seem to have enough space to hold all my PA equipment, guitars, and possibly even my previously-blog-mentioned SUMO 300 amp...

Who knows? But I know it was DANG frustrating.

My next trip to CAP's, the local take-your-own-parts-off-the junk car lot was the topper to this tale, of course.... but I'll tell you about that next time.

Until then, let me just say that last night we restarted my Open Mic Live show for the new year and things went very nicely. Good crowd. Good set of jammers. And Kirk came out and we played together for the first time since... wow... October, maybe?... and we still found that groove between us in no time flat. That makes for good signs on the approaching gigs listed in the band's profile page. You should definitely come out, if you have the chance, especially since we'll have a really great keyboard player jammin' with us.

Peace on ya

Ooops

2007-01-09T10:17:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the massive delay in posting!!

Between avoiding the malls, seeing loads of family, working on cars to sell some of my far too many off, recording some of my music for my father's xmas gift, and catching a nasty little case of walking PNEUMONIA... well, I've been a bit too busy and a bit too tired or unwell to actually write, much less think of anything that anyone else might actually enjoy reading.

Cause, that IS what I am about - writing stuff that SOMEONE might get a laugh or two out of, usually. I mean, except when I'm bitchin' and moanin' about something like, oh... work... which, by the way, is trying to screw me some more.

Now, normally? I wouldn't mind a good screw.

No, really. I've been told I've got the libido of someone many years younger than myself (not gonna say how many "MANY" is... a man's gotta have SOME secrets, right?)

But the job wants to bend me over, no lube, and not even give the decency of a reach around...

Yep. It's that time of year - It's the Annual Screw the Employee Festival!!

Wish me luck. Gonna need it.

While We Sleep Easy...

2006-12-21T18:21:00.000-05:00

... under the blanket of liberty that many have died to maintain...

Here is a picture of my nephew's unit in Iraq. He's the one in the green uniform with the gloves on...

click the pic and it gets bigger...
zoom in, he's related to me and therefore good looking :)

Seriously, though - he's the one with dark glasses in the first standing row, 3rd from the right.

Now, if you have a chance, just take a moment out of your usual busy holiday season and retail nightmares to think of those in far away places and those here at home, who continually put their lives on the line for you and I, for our nation, for our family and our freedoms. This isn't about politics, it's about family and friends, and those who risk their lives so we can have both.

A big "Thank you" to all of them.
may you all come home safe and sound
and may happiness and joy find their way
to you, all those miles away

A Special Christmas Story...

2006-12-19T15:22:00.000-05:00

If you were one of the lucky ones, you managed to catch the special "Christmas Story" as presented by Dick Butt Kiss & the Tight Ends -AND- Special Ed and the Short Bus Bluegrass Band.

If not, well, you missed out.

The story all began with the famed and fortunate "Uncle Daddy" as he tells his young children all about the TRUE Christmas Story, as was passed down, generation by generation, in their own... umm.. special oral tradition.

I would tell you more, but then this account would likely get shut down for its outrageously irreverent and blasphemous nature.

Suffice it to say that by the end, all are happy, there is plenty of fighting, plenty of over the top disgustingly humorous music, much laughter (if you can handle that bit about being a blasphemer), some "Barry Winger" moments, and Jesus comes out of the closet.

And, yes, Mary Magdelene is still a ho.
And looked good in tights, I might add

If (or when) they come out with a DVD of this "sure way to get into hell" production, then you definitely should do yourself a favor and get you a copy. I know I will.

And like I told them on opening night - it's good to know that if I am going to go to Hell for some of the music I have written that someone is going to get there ahead of me on the "Hell Express".... I mean, if I get First Class tickets, they're definitely getting a chartered flight.

And, just to be clear and make sure you know it, it was hilarious and worth every penny at the door.

Peace yo all and

Happy Merry Christma-hannu-kwanzaa-ka-mas to all!

Tall Tale Tuesday 6

2006-12-12T13:43:00.000-05:00

You know what?

I

had a beer

with an alien.

It was WEIRD!

I was sittin' outside on my tractor, teachin' my dog, Luther, how to read when this flyin' saucer BEAMS me up... and inside there were all these funny creatures, with big yeller eyes and oogly skin... and they were talkin' REAL funny, like this:

"Rellim Reeb"

"Rellim Reeb"

Well all of a sudden it hits me! They was sayin' Miller Beer, only they was sayin' it BACKWARDS.

Well, lucky fer me I had a six pack of Miller with me...

and THEY JUST SUCKED IT RIGHT UP

*schluuuurrrrrpppp*

WITH THEIR FINGERS!

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.

It was WEIRD!
.
.

And they said they was comin' back

*hummm*

So lock up yer Rellim Reeb!

Monday Monday

2006-12-11T14:50:00.000-05:00

You know what? You would think that, by now, our company meeting a whole weekend and a day gone by, that I wouldn't still be so annoyed at what transpired.

But I am. I am still pissed off.

To try and cool my jets, as it were, here are a few phrases I've just come up with the describe the REAL reason that the division I work for has not made the glorious profits that were promised by our most esteemed "National Sales Manager" :

He couldn't sell a sammich to a starving millionaire in Ethiopia
He couldn't sell a Super Bowl ticket at half price
He couldn't sell blow in a "gentleman's club"
He couldn't sell a PS3 on eBay

Are ya feelin' me here? Do you get what I'm saying? As for his recent interpersonal conduct and "throw YOU under the bus" and CYA (cover yer ass) behavior he put on grand display last week, I have this to say:

He's such a jackass that Tom wouldn't accept his myspace friend request.

And that's all I've got the patience to say without indulging in a veritable and verbose deluge of the four-letter variety.

Peace on ya
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.

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TGIF = This Gas Is Flammable

2006-12-08T09:17:00.000-05:00

These were some of the thoughts going through my head as I sat through a recent company meeting:

"Umm yaaahhh"
"mm hmmm..."
"yeahright... suuuure..."

Have you ever been to a corporate company meeting that was just SOOOOooo laden with bovine waste product that you actually lifted your feet off the floor so you wouldn't carry the stink home with you?

So it was with me.

Afterwards, I actually made the comment in the smoke room - don't start in on me about my bad personal habits right now, mmkay? I'm a livewire at the moment and it could get ooogly - anyway, between my smoker's coughs and hacks, I made something akin to the following comment:

"All the potential ungodly-hour noise aside, there's a good thing about the prospect of having 2 infants in my house right now - at least it makes me well-prepared for bullsh!t like this."

You know, it's unfathomable what corporate heads think of their peon employees sometimes. It makes me wonder if they actually believe their own hype, cause we at the bottom certainly don't buy into it. Some of their decisions make me wonder if they truly believe we are JUST THAT STUPID. It's not as if we didn't make it through college and get our degrees - albeit some of us, not mentioning names (like me) took a while longer to do it than others. And I'm certainly not saying you can't be smart and NOT go to college, but those of us that did AND finished with something besides a BS in Party Science (something to which I had, at one point, aspired) do have SOMETHING going on upstairs. All the peons here thus have our "papers." And it is simply and flatly insulting to us to expect us to look at the craptacular pile of garbage their handing us and believe them when they tell us it's a tasty filet mignon.

We are:
NOT
THAT
STUPID

And yet they soldier on with their difficult lives of handing this stank-laden fertilizer byproduct to us in overlarge portions.... and then they wonder why we aren't capering around in thanks for all they've "given us."

Oh yeah... they've made my list of
"First Ones Up Against the Wall When the Revolution Comes."

Have a great weekend all!

Words of Wednesday 12.06.2006

2006-12-06T09:49:00.000-05:00

Beat.
Tired.
Dragged out.
Worn.
Walked over.

I am what I eat.
What does exhausted taste like?

You look at me and wonder how

you question why
. you doubt me
Yet struggle do I keep my sight
. and look upon you
. so happy, so bright
. and I wonder myself.
. HOW?
. WHY?

I love to play
. Performance, my love, my home
But everyone leaves
. And I have no crew
. No roadies
. And I am dismantled
. I act my age

A sign of deference
. A show of love
. or of not letting go
The moments flew on broken wings
. And I held it shining in my hand
. Burned to the bone

And now I struggle to stand

But I don't let go.

Hold on.

And tearing down
. an act of love
I must do it in my way
. it is my temple
. it is my ceremony
. it is my service

And so I load out
. my altar
. my vestment
. my accouterment
. my gear
. my stage

And weary, worn,
. I take my mobile church home...

Tall Tale Tuesday 5

2006-12-05T10:52:00.000-05:00

Ahhh, at long last... the return of Tall Tale Tuesday!

So... where was I?

Oh yes, Tall Tale Tuesday, where almost anything can appear and nearly nothing is real!

Tall Tale Tuesday - the epic telling of semitruths aplenty!

Yes, Tall Tale Tuesday - where truthiness can be found in nonabundance!

That's right! Tall Tale Tuesday... let us begin our journey once again... So... umm, I kinda forgot where I was going with all this. Kinda got all into the big intro and forgot the tale I was going to tell... dammit. I hate it when that happens.

Ahh, well, nothing for it but to forge on ahead at full steam with this little tidbit from my past...
.
.
. . into flashback music . .
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It was a dark and stormy night.

The wind blew all stormy-like... and the night was dark, hence my first statement being "it was a dark and stormy night." I mean, I wouldn't lie to you, would I? Regardless, and not IRregardless, which is NOT a word, let me go on with the telling without further interruptions.

It was a dark and stormy night.

It was the kind of night that you get when the sun goes down, the cloud cover rolls in, and there's a storm. It was stormy. It was dark. Are you getting the point yet?

Okay.... where was I?

Ahh yes, dark and stormy night, etc. etc.... The rain was coming down in buckets.... which makes it inherently dangerous to go out for a walk in... buckets tending to be a lot more painful than raindrops of any size, mind you.

Of course, that's better than it raining cats and dogs. Talk about a nasty sounding racket.

*thud* MEOW! *thud thud* woof meow *thud thuddity thud thud* woof yowl meow arf arf yipe yipe *thud thud*

And it's a mess to clean up.

Now... where was I?

... this blog entry has been interrupted by the Good Taste Society and the author has been sacked. Not sure what that means, but it does draw an interesting picture - large men in black carrying off a large, squirming sack containing one annoyed, highly hostile and dangerous to the literary environment author, namely me...

TGIF = The Grease Is Flyin'

2006-12-01T10:06:00.000-05:00

One of the joys and banes of being a neophyte, semiuneducated, lightly experienced, intellectual wannabe motorhead such as myself is the "take it apart yourself" junkyard. For the most part, you can (as one of them advertises) "pull off your own great deal" from these kinds of places. For example, here are some recent scores - I'm not even going to bother showing the dealer prices cause, as we ALL know, dealer prices are WAY high:

passenger window. Wholesale = 80 bucks. Junkyard = 16.99 + my own labor. Took me about 45-60 minutes to remove the window - it was a powered window, too.
a large taillight assemby. Wholesale = 119. Junkyard = 15.00 + my own labor, which required me to disconnect one electrical plug (and I got ALL the bulbs and wiring with it!)
console flap/top. Wholesale = 30-ish. Junkyard = 4.50 + 2 screws
driver side powered seat. Wholesale = what... 300 bucks? Junkyard = 30 bucks??? Of course, I haven't finished removing it yet, so there is some more effort involved there.

Of course, don't expect any kind of warranty on electrical parts - it's all hit and miss for that stuff - and who knows how badly the last driver of this car treated his equipment... And for heavy mechanical stuff... well, you have to lug it out of there... and then you have to test it. And if doesn't work, well damn, you have to lug it back to the junkyard - so there is a large pain-in-the-ass factor you should tack on. And, of course, there's no guarantee they'll even have the make and model you need a part for, or if what they do have will fit - say you have a 93 and they have a 94 model... well, basically, you're rolling the dice and taking your chances.

Still, what a great deal? I paid 60 bucks for about 500 bucks worth of parts, all told.... and it definitely gave me large doses of "gee, lookie what I accomplished" endorphins and fed my fledgling motorhead ego with a few strokes.

And that's where the danger lies. I'm already a bit of a pack rat, according to my friends - I call myself a collector - and this place is just chock full of stuff I could score for various car projects I have at my house, not to mention the childhood dream of having my very own Fat Albert Junkyard band...

Yeah.

Danger Will Robinson indeed.

So...

2006-11-30T13:42:00.000-05:00

I guess that not having written near-daily entries for a while is taking its toll on me. It was pretty hard finding something I felt was actually worth saying on a daily basis - some days it was easier than getting laid in a whorehouse - not that I have ever done that, mind you - and other days were... well, rough. It got a bit easier as it went along, particularly when I devised a semi-daily scheme of what to write... but, hell, it's been so long that I barely even remember TO write in this blog, much less remember what those rituals were...

Lessee... I had Me Me Mondays, Tall Tale Tuesdays (a reader favorite), Words of Wednesdays, Half-Nekkid Thursdays, and TGIFridays.... and the weekends? Well, they were all mine.

So today is apparently thursday and I've got jack to show for it. No new picture. No inventive creative deformation of an old one. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. I am completely lacking in images. I am fully not in possession of a picture. I have no tea - thank you Douglas Adams, for sharing your no tea with me, by the way.

That being said, I did hear a couple of interestingly bizarre quotes Saturday night/Sunday morning, as I scored me some breakfast foods of the worst sort at 4th Street Diner - the home of Richmond's very best boardwalk fries... usually -

See, man... if Costa Rica were to disappear, the world would end - yeah, you figure it out cause I'm still lost on this one.
It's all good for me to eat meat cause the dinosaurs did... and, you know, they ruled the world.
Please make it stop
... but he LOOKS Hawaiian

Last Saturday night, I played during a couple of set breaks for the local band, the US Band - that's "us" as in "we", "you", "they" - and it went okay. I was told specifically before I began that they did not want any cussing, etc etc...

Well great. There goes half my material.

Still, I managed to play a radio-friendly version of Tenacious D's "F**k Her Gently" and, of course, bleeped out all the cuss words...

of course, it being "the D", this made the song sound like an instrumental with morse code in it:

I'm gonna Beep-beep - bippity-beep-di-beep-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hard...

The majority of the males, as well as a fair number of the (very fine and tasty) women present, filled in the beeps with the actual lyrics, of course.

But they couldn't blame ME for that, could they? I didn't sing them, after all... right?

Recent Quotes, 11.20.06 Edition

2006-11-20T11:35:00.000-05:00

little puffs of lavender, indeed

Sure. You go ahead and hang out with your mom and her third cousin. I hope you have a good time with that, keepin' it all in the family. (Now reread the above with the knowledge that the mom is dating the third cousin - eww)
I don't like orgasms... they make me feel all tingly and weird - no, I did NOT make this one up... how could I?
You get more ass than a toilet seat - still a favorite
Yep, her family came into town for the week... so I've been out a lot more
It was just one piece of chocolate, baby - just one piece (referring to the empty candy bar wrapper)
He's my pimp-daddy
When I fart, it all comes out as little puffs of lavender...
Yeah, lavender scented sh1t

TGIF = This Gear Is FLY

2006-11-17T11:44:00.000-05:00

( Go 'head and click the title to preview my new toy )

Yes, my ever-present threat of recording my music and sending it out into the ether...net is coming one step closer to its unavoidable fruition.

Yes, I had my pc set up for recording. Now one basement flooding, a bad power supply, and a motherboard fry later ... it got to be a MAJOR pain in the ass between driver updates and changes and problems with WINDOWS... I am convinced that Bill Gates is, indeed, the Anti-Christ... but THAT, my friends, is a WHOLE other conversation.

And before you Mac-ho's out there crawl all over me and tout your superiority of design and implementation, let me say just this one thing.... okay, a FEW things.

If I had a few grand to buy one and all the software that goes with it, I surely would. They are MUCH more stable, and like the iPod, it's basic user interface design is light years beyond the competition. Straight up. Period. (Of course, as a nuts and bolts guy, there are times when I KNOW I can do it faster and cleaner than the baby-steps they allow users... thank God they have a Linux base now!)

But I don't have that kind of scratch... and I already had all the software and gear for the PC...

AND

my PC pursuits include video and photo editing, for which I have large amounts of "not the freebie/came with the computer" software. We'd be talking 5 grand to replace my PC and get the equivalent software on the Mac.

Now, if you REALLY want me to be a convert and are willing to throw that kind of scratch my way... well, I'll be more than happy to send you my address where you can send me a certified check or money order (I don't accept personal checks, you see)...

Until then, well, I'm gonna play wif me new toy - which just showed up, by the way.

I can hardly wait.

HNT - Hardrocker Needs Talent

2006-11-16T06:34:00.000-05:00

Yep... I SO wanna be a rock star

This shot was taken at one of our two man shows
at one of nicest places to dine in all of Richmond...
the Bleu Bistro
the home of the original casual elegance dining...
and, of course, the Government Cheese Open Mic Live Show.

(yes, I also realize that this is a pretty lame re-entry into
the HNT world, but I only had a few minutes to blow
so here ya go. Go see Rock God Osbasso for details)

Words of Wednesday 11.15.2006

2006-11-15T13:47:00.000-05:00

it was a fine, fine open mic show the people gathered round
at least one or two I knew and so I bought a round
of drinks of beer of women speak of dreams of tale of whoa
not woe, yea whoa, I meant it right in case you didn't know
I speak it right, I speak it well I write as right can be
not perfect, I'd not dare to claim, but close enough for me...
Where was I? Oh, yes, we played in turn last night and music made
songs of here, and there, and naught and jams aplenty, quarters played
a diddle here, a strum, a chop nervous keys red hot
"That boy can play." "I know, he's good." Duets on the spot
mayhaps a shot at shows to come me and keys, no bass, air drum
just slapping rhythm on me gut in current lingo, "That was bum"
and lots of speaking, set me free into the crowd I am set loose
and fortune's happy foolish fiend a jabber Wop forsooth
a touring 'nuck from White North Great cool regulars to boot
a good time had by all but one not my horn that I toot
Tuesday here and yet to come upon this ride we go
come one, come all, and take a spin the Open Mic Live Show.

Me Me Monday #30

2006-11-13T23:03:00.000-05:00

30. Hell, I hated Kiss as a kid

No, it's true.

I really hated Kiss when I was younger. Of course, I grew up in Hawaii, so the whole "Kiss Army" thing wasn't exactly as big a deal there. We had much more important things to do with our Hawaiian time... like... like skateboard, long before it became huge... and go to the beach and snorkel and surf and just enjoy BEING.

Can you understand why it never became a priority?

Of course, when I moved to Virginia, I had PLENTY of reasons to hate all things Virginian.

I was the chunky little half-asian kid with glasses (as opposed to the large half-asian man with glasses that I have grown up to be). You wanna talk outcast? Fat, short asian boys are prime targets. Trust me.
This was compounded massively by me having been in the WAY in crowd in Hawaii - having Samoan and Hawaiian friends gets you in like Flynn back on the island - it didn't hurt that I get nice tans that made me look somewhat native to many.
They say the word "y'all" here. I fought that off for 3 years before my doom was sealed and the word spilled, unasked and unwanted, from my very own lips...
Everyone here seemed to love the Washington Redskins. I, having become a tried and true-blue Dallas Cowboys fan while living in Hawaii, could have developed a rash just by contacting most Virginians. No - I am no fair weather fan, and I "ain't" switching just cause all y'all round here like them 'Skins.
And, of course, no beautiful beaches and sunsets of a billion colors.
Hot, sweltering summer heat.
Icy cold winters (though the snow was tres cool...)
Rednecks

Need I say more? I thought not. So when I moved here and all these kids my age were lovin' on the whole Kiss action... well... I naturally took the opposite bent to it. My poor adolescent mind process went as follows:

Virginia sucks
Rednecks suck
Virginia has rednecks
Rednecks like Kiss
Therefore - Kiss sucks

( See, even then I was all down with the logic thang. )

Of course, now... in my later years, I see the error in my ways. Sure, you may think Kiss cheezy, and they are. You might think they represent all that was overdone and overblown about rock, and you would be right. You might even think that they grew in popularity solely for their pyrotechnics and makeup, and there is some truth to that, for Kiss is nothing if not a spectacle to be beheld.

But you cannot deny the crunch of "Detroit, Rock City"... you cannot ignore the tongue of Mr. Simmons... and you cannot deny the impact of all that is Kiss...

and so youth attains wisdom

Repetitive Musing...

2006-11-09T18:48:00.000-05:00

Seventeen. The number calls out to me.
Not that I had such a great 17... or maybe I did.

When I was 17...

I had a car to drive... it wasn't much, but it had 4 wheels, plenty of space, and it ran. It also had 144 different bumper stickers on it so it was REAL easy to find in the parking lot of ANY mall or concert.

I had a girl. Yeah, she was crazy about me. Crazy in not just the figurative sense, either. Go figure - I think it sets a pattern, hmm? Cause I sure have dated some doozies and floozies...

I was acing school... not a big deal - I could sleep through most classes in high school and still get an 'A'... except for English. And that was definitely a personality conflict. I don't think she liked foreign looking people. Ahh well... high school - so glad I'm done with THAT side of it, anyway.

I had a good core group of friends.

It was the dawn of the digital age and the birth of the video arcade era - yeah, I'll admit to my geekdom here. I was a Sinistar GOD! okay... more like a demigod, but that game was no walk in the park.

And I was in a band. Not a marching band or high school band, oh no. I played the bone in the horn section of an R&B/Beach/Blues group. Hey, we actually got paid to play a number of gigs, too. I guess that's where my crowd ho days first began to feel the need... the urge... the addiction to feed... but I digress.

Oh, I got laid a lot back then, too. Yes. That was fun.

But 17... that number just sticks in my craw... it bugs me... it pokes at me to be written for some bizarre reason, reasons beyond my understanding. What is it about that number?

I mean, it's not like 42, THE universal answer to the ultimate question to life, the universe, and everything.

But it gets at me... and I just don't understand it.

Do you?

2006-11-07T13:18:00.000-05:00

What Men Know About Women

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( okay... well, if anyone can add to this, feel free to post a comment. )

2006-11-06T10:32:00.000-05:00

How to write a jam band song ( in 40 steps or less)

1. Pack bowl
2. smoke it
3. mmm... tasty... wait a sec... where's my paper?
4. pack it again
5. smoke it - you need to be in a 'good place' to do this, after all
6. look around you... does anything stand out?
7. write down a few lines about its color
8. crap... where's my pen?
9. Oh, got it
10. Dammit... used the tip to clean out the resin...
11. Try to clean the tip of your now tacky pen
12. still won't write
13. find another pen
14. might as well have another toke - don't wanna lose that edge while searching for a pen, right?
15. okay, so where was I?
16. That's right, chillin and watching 70's sitcom reruns - What's Happening? Not much D-Wayne.
17. ( sounds of water bubbling through a pipe )
18. HEY HEY HEY!! *cough cough* I found my bong!
19. Duuuuude... hey, what's this paper here for? (no, it won't roll)
20. Oh man... I was SO gonna write a song
21. try writing some more
22. man, why the hell won't this pen write?
23. Oh, that's right, duuude. I used this to clean the bowl.
24. laugh for 10 minutes straight
25. pick up the other pen and start writing
26. chips... dip... soda... eggs... pancake mix (gotta love pancake Sunday mornings!)...
27. okay, now start writing that SONG, not your grocery list
28. But, dude, I have SO got the munchies now...
29. Fine, load another while you figure out what to eat
30. Tear house apart trying to find something to eat besides Oodles of Noodles and mac and cheese
31. Oodles of Noodles it is! (don't have milk to make the mac)
32. These are SO awesome, add water, chuck it in the nuke box and *BAM*. Tasty noodles.
33. So where was I? Oh, yeah yeah... song. Dude I am THERE!
34. Grab the pen and write.
35. Why won't this write? Dammit. Grab that other pen.
36. Okay.. so what rhymes with orange?

testing

2006-10-18T21:14:00.000-05:00

just testing the waters...

Fare Thee Well

2006-06-08T08:37:00.000-05:00

It seems I have been "caught"... or rather, I have discovered the truth. It appears that some people here at work are under the misguided impression that I have been doing nothing but writing blog entries while at work and it is adversely affecting the nature of my relationship as an employee.

Fact is, I have written only a few of these entries at work, but who can believe that? I suppose it doesn't really matter that I just dished out a large sum of money to buy a new computer for the same reason I POST them from work some of the time. The reason being my own personal pc crapped out AND my roommates PC, on which I wrote many of these entries, is so old that it locks up on several web sites nowadays - this one included. I mean, I've had to email entries in text from home, unwrap them at work, copy and paste, color a few things and add the pics and place them - it maybe took a minute for the short ones, 2-3 minutes for the average entry. The worst one took maybe 10 minutes - the blogiversary one, I'm sure. But it's okay for someone to blow 25 minutes on a smoke break. Yeah, okay. Perception is everything indeed.

It's kind of funny. I never thought this would happen to me... but now I see how some people get driven to drop their blogs by other people. Now I understand. I grok. Suffice it to say that it was fun while it lasted, even though I didn't quite reach my goal of 10,000 site hits. Oh well.

Perhaps some day I will start another blog. Perhaps. Or maybe you'll just see my ramblings posted in that ancient form known as "a book". Google it, if you can't remember what such ancient technology is.

Words of Wednesday 5.24.2006

2006-05-24T09:42:00.000-05:00

Caught between the presence and pain
Never thought to taste the rain
or the bittersweet summer's gaze

Twist about to face my name
Never quite hot, it's answer plain
are they memories or just a phase?

She looked to me with open eyes
Couldn't see past the moment's prize
to the fields beyond, through the trees

And I flag myself for state review
Never understood what the words could do
so in silece let my answer be.

For in the breadth between two beats
a sceptre of gold laid at my feet
the words rang out the vibrance felt
and I look on the hand myself I've dealt
3 ladies, a duece, and a fool

A flick of the wrist a bet laid down
Hey there, honey, just another round
I've got a feeling it's near the end
as I slide my stake to be all in
Wonder what's left of all that cool?

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And as a side note: What up with my word verification?? I go to other people's sites that have word verify and I get to type in stuff like
boj
jfbo
brib
Then I go to put a comment in my own blog and I have to type in crap like this:
fwgxlpaoerieognkbknohypwafdsqaqlfrehbsthequickbrownfoxjumpedoverthelazydogsdagnpfrw
???

Why? Why do the blogger be hatin' on me so much, mon?
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Tall Tale Tuesday 4

2006-05-23T09:10:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so I've dated some really crazy chicks over the span of my, umm, indeterminate and undisclosed number of years. Yep, a lot of crazy ones. Even dated one that I rightfully nicknamed "Psychohosebeast". (Yes, that term was totally ripped off from Wayne and Garth. Totally.)

I dated one that was a pathological liar. Dated a sadomasochist who just loved to be handcuffed and have hot wax poured on... well, we won't say more about that one. Nearly dated one that was actually diagnosed a nymphomaniac. Seriously. But I chose NOT to.

And, yeah, I know a lot of you guys are thinking on that nympho thing and saying, "Well why not?" Well, if you know the whole truth about trying to date a nymphomaniac, you would understand. A woman like that can ruin your life. No joke. You might THINK you want sex all the time, and that's all good and well... she NEEDS it. And she will go to GREAT LENGTHS to get it. She will get you in trouble at work, ruin family occasions... I'm serious. You think I'm kidding? Think about this - does being addicted to alcohol ruin lives? Well, the end results are the same here.... I guess I need to write you the TRUE story about a friend of mine who got shafted, in every possible way, because he dated a nympho.

But that's not for today.

Today I'm going to tell you about this one nutty chick I actually dated. She dabbled in drugs here and there. And then she decided to start experimenting with them by taking them together. She'd smoke pot while dosing on LSD. That wasn't such a big deal - Deadheads and Phishheads do that all the time (please refer to my 2nd 101 Things entry for my plausible deniability clause for this one).

Another time, she drank, I dunno, a gallon of coffee in which she used cut cocaine as sweetener. Anyone who has seen the Starsky and Hutch movie has a bit of a clue as to how THAT one went. She practically dragged me all over that dance floor that night. She'd eat shrooms and then do some crank. That was ... interesting. She cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture... all in the backyard - she claimed she thought I'd built an addition to the house... one with green shag carpet and BIG skylights.

But the absolute WORST time? Yeah, that had to be the time she took speed and Midol at the same time. She had her period 6 times in one week.
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Me Me Monday 2-4

2006-05-22T12:51:00.000-05:00

4. and Bonnaroo...

It was a couple of years ago when last I went to Bonnaroo... but I had a blast and would love to go back someday. Seriously.

Of course, I'm not 18 anymore, so the likelihood of me actually camping 2 miles away in that enormous campgrounds in the middle of just pre-Summer June and walking everywhere just to go listen to a sh**-ton of great and varied music are slim and none...

and Slim left town.

Unless I really do something to get back into shape, at least.

Okay, okay... more than just a LITTLE something... a LOT of something.

We ended up camped about 1.5 miles from the actual Bonnaroo grounds... and we were closer than a LOT of people. So anytime we wanted to get up and go see a band, we had to hike that distance just to get to the very large Bonnaroo area. They had 3 major stages, 3 lesser stages, and several covered tents - all of them had music or some form of entertainment going on, along with other tents full of other activities - comedians, manufacturer's reps trying to sell you stuff, food sellers, video games, movie showings... yeah, it was a HUGE festival thing. Highly recommended if you like live music. And if you can get an RV and RV parking pass? Yeah, THAT'S the way to do it.

Having discovered the cost of renting an RV, and looking at that 3-plus dollar a gallon gas prices these days, however? Ummm... yeah, I'll pass for this year until maybe I get a raise (ha ha) and can afford that extra EXTRA cost to go that route.

Unless one of you feels bighearted and wants to rent out an RV to me... CHEAP. I promise to take good care of it and clean it when we're done.

In any event, the event got "just a bit" marred by the MONSOON that swept in Saturday evening. They had to push the Dead back until the wee hours of the morning, due to the lightning and wind that came to Tennessee... and stayed... and then stayed some more.

The campgrounds became one giant mudpit. I am NOT exaggerating when I say that I had to slog through foot deep mud and muddy water for large parts of the 1.5 mile hike from where we parked/camped to the grounds to go see the Dead play (at around 2am Sunday morning). Hell, even the festival ground were slogged full of water - I managed to find a dry-ish patch that wasn't a foot deep puddle of water - to see 'em throw down.

Can I simply say that Warren Haynes really did add a lot of punch to the Dead's sound that year? A totally different flavor and, well, I liked it. Yes, it wasn't Jerry Garcia, but it was nice. I can appreciate talented musicians of all flavors - I'm not a music snob. But I digress (again).

Speaking of music... just as I got back to the Honda Element for some well deserved rest, I heard Primus start up... and I heard Rush's YYZ being thrown down... and I mean THROWN DOWN. Primus was flat out wailing the ever-living sh1t out of it and, I must say, my respect for them as a band grew three sizes larger in that single moment. They nailed it. With a jackhammer. Was never a huge Primus fan (for reasons other than their music) but, they made their first step at converting me in that singular moment, as I stood in the brisk night air, slushy sounds of my footsteps as I stepped out of the Element to get a better listen... the night sky glowing ephemerally with the lights from the festival grounds faintly pulsing as Primus YYZ'ed me.

Yeah, it was good.
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2006-05-19T11:23:00.000-05:00

Wow. I went through the whole week with planned postings - Me Me Monday, Tall Tale Tuesday, Words of Wednesday, and Half-Nekkid Thursday.... and each one of THOSE days, I had another idea for a posting, but thought to set it aside for later use... right? And so here I am, Friday, and I've forgotten all those great little ideas for posting. What the hell?

Yes, I've had coffee, so I can't fall back on that excuse... dammit.

Ahh well...

My thanks to all the kind folks who left comments about my HNT posting. Thank you very much and I'll be sure to visit your sites as soon as I am able. Fact is, my home pc is down and has been for the past few weeks so my visits have been more rare than normal...

For all the rest of youz, have a great weekend! I got a surprise booking so I get to make some money tonight. Yay me!
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2006-05-18T12:02:00.000-05:00

Happy Nekkidversary To Everyone

So, we've been at this a year? Well not me... but here we go -
my FIRST (lame) HNT pic:

In honor of the first year gone by, here are several pics I managed to take (or get taken in) while "on the go".

Happy Firstie HNT!

Here's one I scored on set while I was out on tour... Isn't she lovely? Being this is an anniversary, I managed to squeeze in a shot from in front of the camera while hanging upside down from a large boom mic.

Clever, aren't I?

Recently, I managed to get into the recording studio for the Monkees reunion tour - being a big fan helped. They let me record some additional vocals so they went ahead and put me on the cover of their 30th Anniversary Collector's Edition album. They're a fun bunch, them Monkees...

Haven't you always wanted a Monkee?

And here's a lovely little shot I got caught in at Mara's wedding. Lovely girl, that Mara... and I wasn't stalking her.. I mean, I wasn't technically invited, but I couldn't help myself. She's such a beauty, I had to take some video of her getting stolen off the market. Lucky bastage.

(Hey, Mara, hope you didn't mind - I didn't make a scene or anything!)

Hope your first Anniversary is as beautiful as you!

And Finally, meet my EX-Friend, Edward Scissorhands, aka Johnny Depp. They actually got the anniversary picture right this time, seeing as how Ed cut me and my career in two with those razor sharp digits of his.

You go to hell, Eddie... you go to hell and you die!

Remember, payback's a bitch!!

And that's all the Half-Nekkid Foolishness I've got on tap for today. To join in the fun, go check out Osbasso's site and see what he wanted it to be (even though I barely follow the rules!)

Happy First Anniversary HNT!

2006-05-17T14:58:00.001-05:00

Just a late update for those interested:

We started our Open Mic Live show this past Monday night. Turnout was lighter than hoped, but after all the cancellations and difficulties we faced getting bands scheduled in there, it was actually better than anticipated by the time Monday evening rolled in. We only had one actual band come to play, but we did have members from a second band and had assurances from a member of a third band for this upcoming Monday - his actual words were, "I'll beat their asses and MAKE them come."

That's the sort of committment I like to hear.

All in all, it was a good learning experience and a really good time. The crowd stayed out there and enjoyed both our music and the music supplied by the other cats who came out. We're getting some advertising put out shortly and we expect more bands in the weeks to come - wish us luck.

Oh, and the best part - the owner was happy. And in business, that's really all that matters, right? He had happy customers... hell, he had customers on a Monday night - "Best Monday night EVER" he said.

Can't beat that. Not with a stick even.
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2006-05-17T09:16:00.000-05:00

.. Words of Wednesday 5.17.2006

Well, a poem's what I would have written if I hadn't been so smitten with thoughts of ladies fair. Ones with long brown hair. And blonde hair too and sometimes red, see I get these notions in my head that I have some fair dose of charm and ladies I would never harm... of course you know that's not quite true, though I might profess these things to you in some quiet corner in the dark, or perhaps while sitting on a bench in the park.

The truth of the matter is something else, for real. I am far too easily made to sway from what I think I feel to something else, and it's not quite the matter of what it be nor an issue of who might see. Rather, it is an issue of who I might cause harm, though I am vastly aware of my have or lack of charm. One thing I cannot stand to face is a tear that has found its place to track down a woman's cheek, it's cause my name you'd hear her speak.
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Okay, so this one didn't go so well, best I could do this morning... haven't had coffee... no paying gig... my voice is still sucking like a junkie on a crack pipe... yep, not the best mindset for writing. It is really, REALLY good for RANTING, however...

But I just don't have the energy.
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Yeah, just call me a rant-tease.
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Maybe I'll post again later this afternoon. Never can tell. It has been known to happen...
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Tall Tale Tuesday 3

2006-05-16T10:46:00.000-05:00

I have two older brothers. One of them lives in the area, but the other moved away to Texas about, ohh, 12 years ago. Well, it had been years since I'd seen him, being more than just a tiny bit of a drive to get down there and all, so last summer I took a buddy of mine with me and we headed down for a little mini-family reunion.

My buddy, J**, and I headed out on a sunny Friday afternoon and drove nonstop, each taking turns at the wheel - with the occasional stop for some grub or a short nap at a rest stop along the interstate - and we made GREAT time. It was hardly past noon Saturday when we arrived - we were beat down tired as hell, true, but we were there.

Now let me tell you a little about Texas. They like to do things BIG out there. Let me tell you what. EVERYTHING in Texas is big. We got down there and went to eat at this Texas steakhouse. The place was HUGE. I think you could have a basketball game in the bar area, you know? So we ordered their big porterhouse steak - hey, why the hell not?

Of course, we were thinking big in terms of Virginia, where a 40oz porterhouse is humongous, right? So when they wheeled over the sides of beef and tossed them onto our tables, I knew we were in for some SERIOUS eating. That steak was GINORMOUS. It shouldn't have been called a porterhouse... it should've been called a portermansion or something ridiculous like that. J*** asked the waiter, "Hey man... this steak is huge. I mean HUGE. Did I really order this?"

The waiter responded, "Why yes sir, you shore did. This is Texas, man. EVERYTHING in Texas is BIG!"

So we ate what we could and packed the rest away into a couple of doggie bags the size of a Honda. Well, it wasn't too late and there was this Texas blues band getting set up to play so we went over to the bar to get us a drink and listen to the band. We ordered us up a pair of margaritas, it being a Tex-Mex kind of thing, right? Well, the bartender wheels over these giant glasses of mixed drink with rock salt on the rim. Each one of these was large enough to baptize a Samoan baby in...

...and if there's one thing you should know about Samoan babies, it's that they're BIG. I mean, my best friend back in Hawaii was 12 pounds at birth... and he was kind of runty, they said. Right before I moved from there to Va, his sister gave birth to a baby boy. A 20 pound baby boy. That's not a typo. TWENTY. As in two - oh. One more than 19. 3 touchdowns and one missed extra point. Are you getting me here? Point is, it was a HUGE drink.

So J*** looks at the bartender and asks him, "Are you sure this is what I ordered? Man, it's HUGE!"

The bartender looked at us and said, "Welp, I can tell you ain't from 'round here. See, EVERYTHING in Texas is BIG, so drink up."

So DRINK we did. We were sitting there at the bar getting completely hammered on our margaritas while the sun set over the pool that was just outside of the bar area, while this Texas blues band threw down some right smackin hot stanky funk Texas blues. And we were really thirsty - you could practically see the water evaporating out of that pool in the hot summer heat, while the sun was setting.

After a bit, J*** stands up and slurs in a barely understandable fashion, "Man... I'm drrrunnkkk... I need to takke a pissshh... hey! Hey barshender... wheresh the bathshroom?"

The bartender looked at him with a grin and said, "Go right down the hall behind the bar. It's the first door on your right."

And my friend staggered down the hall, but instead of taking a right, he took a left and walked straight into the pool.

*SPLASH*

I stumbled outside to help him out and all I could hear was him screaming for his life:
"Don't flush! Don't FLUSH !!!"
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Me Me Monday 2-44

2006-05-15T10:46:00.000-05:00

44. but I got over it... now I like to attain and maintain a nice buzz

Yeah, I used to party hardy. I used to drink just to see how much I could drink. I used to get wasted on a very regular basis. I've passed out in strange place, got sick, thrown up, and I've had massive hangovers. Sure. Used to do that all the time. Hell, it was not far from calling it braggin' rights in college to say just how much you drank and where/when/how much you threw up, disgusting as that may be.

"Duuude. Man, I got SOOOO wasted last weekend. I ended up throwing up on, like 5 cars in the parking lot at the bar... and then I woke up behind the library. It was sooo weird, heh heh..."

I remember passing out once in the dorm at Va Tech. But not just in the dorm. Oh, hell no. I was in the bathroom. But not just in the bathroom. Oh, hell no. No, I was hanging out the window of the bathroom. And the window? It was on the FRONT side of the building - the side people walk by on their way to and from the football stadium, to and from the commuter lots... oh, yeah, I got a lot of exposure that day. And did I just pass out? OF COURSE NOT. No, I had done a massive powerchuck out the window, and it was all down there on the ground below, some 2 stories down... some of it was, yes, in my hair, caked on my face. Yeah, it was disgusting.

And could the dudes in my hall leave me alone like this? Of course not. Passing out marks you as immediate victim for pranks-a-plenty. Yep, they poured shampoo all down my back - it naturally irritated my skin so I had an ass-rash for DAYS! Yep. They messed me up pretty good. And it was one of my very best friends who saved me that day from further embarrassment.

Thanks!

Yep. So I'm over that now. WAY over it. I like to get a nice little relaxed buzz rolling along, but still maintain enough control that I can still be the funny guy, say complete sentences without slurring, and be able to drive home when it's done. I've seen too many bad things happen to drunk drivers. Seen too many victims.

I'm not trying to preach, but think about it - even for the driver, if nothing bad happens, it's bad news to get busted. My friend and I joke about seeing adults in non-bicyclist clothing riding down the street on a bike - we look at each other and simply say, "D.U.I." And then think about the insurance rates! Jesus. I shudder at the thought of an SR-22 based insurance policy. That's thousands of dollars that could be spent on lots more fun things by the time that goes off your record. I can think of a LOT of things to spend a few grand on and it's NOT an insurance policy.

Better yet, do you know how annoying some drunk people can be? They're argumentative, insist they can drive (HA!), and best of all, think they're actually CHARMING. They often fling saliva when they're "stryinggg to shpeaktpptptt". Nasty. And some are simply downright assholes when they get drunk. Could be the coollest, nicest guy around sober... but drunk? Asshole.

Ummmyeah... umm, no. Remember these words of wisdom:

Buzz good. Drunk bad.

So yeah, I save myself a few bucks when I have to be responsible - which is most of the time, seeing as somehow I always end up as the guy who is the only one sober enough to drive people home. And I save myself thousands over the long haul. It's one way I can afford a spare car like my little Del Sol - which gets me 33/40mpg... anyone remember the whole 3 bucks a gallon of gas thing? Yeah, see?

Of course, there is another reason I bought a Del Sol that's related to the drunk people thing:

It's a two seater. You do the math.

It makes it a whole lot easier to say, "Sorry, dude... I can't help you and your buddies get home - I only have a 2-seater... (and I don't want you vomiting in my car - been through that enough times). I do, however, have a cell phone and a few taxi cabs on speed dial. Let me hook you up."
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TGIF = Thoughts Geared In Fans

2006-05-12T09:33:00.000-05:00

I've been writing music for some time and the one thing I have noticed is that, for me, it is much easier to write a funny song that will catch people's attention, than it is to write something... "good". At least, something I would consider "good". Maybe it comes from years of trying to be the "funny guy" and having some skills in that arena. And I'm not tooting my own horn - it has always been something I strived to be good at, being the funny guy - it was the one skill that helped me most in my, umm, formative years - Yes, that would be formative as in "suck ass try to avoid getting beaten by the rednecks middle school" years.

The question I have is, of course, something I've been wondering about for some time. See, I can usually get an audience who is paying attention to hoot and howl for my risque or funny songs at the drop of a hat - well, a forgiving audience that doesn't mind me getting a bit risque anyway... but my "serious" material will be greeted with some polite applause at best - with the exception of one song that does seem to strike a chord (pardon the expression) with people.... and I don't even think that song is some of my better material, for the most part - maybe I'm not good at judging what's good, too... hmm.

So I stand always writing, trying to write serious material, but the lure of the "instant gratification" of the funny stuff always pulls at me. The fact is, I've completed two or three times as many funny songs in the past year, as I have serious material... and I know that being a crowd ho is completely at fault. So it even makes it difficult for me to write more serious material. (Being a crowd ho truly is an addiction, I tell you)

Now, the flip side of the situation is the long term effects of this habit of mine, this addiction to getting some reaction. The result is similar to what comedians get when they try to act in a serious movie. People rarely take them seriously... regardless of how well they do at it. Think about the serious roles Robin Williams has played. It has been a tough road for him to get those parts... but in all honesty, he does pretty well at them. The truth is, acting in a comedy can be harder than acting in a drama... and making them laugh can be more difficult as well... some people do believe that comedians can make great actors... but the audience? The audience always seems to see the comedian. They pidgeonhole people, the audience does. They can't help it. We are they and it's what we do, in general.

So do I want to be known as the "next Jack Black" ? That wouldn't be such a bad thing, really, but do I not want to be taken seriously for my music? It's hard enough when you have friends and family who don't seem to take your love of performing seriously enough... but to be cursed ever to be the funny guy instead of the musician? Already I have people who know me for a few of my songs - "Vaseline" and "Men are Assholes" and the newly popular song that has become known simply as "the Milf Song"... But those were easy to write, and I would like to be taken seriously. I want "Retreaded" to get hummed by someone... I want "Just Like You" on someone's playlist when they are feeling a black mood... but it's not what I seem to be getting known for...

Aye, there's the rub. I know I can be the funny guy, from years of experience...

but to be the musician?

Half Nekkid Television

2006-05-11T15:01:00.000-05:00

In celebration of my band's new television show, our very own Open Mic Live competition, soon to be on some cable access or PBS post-midnight show near you... assuming you live in the Richmond, Va area, of course... here is a promo shot I got from the one episode of the original series Star Trek wherein I appeared as a rebel Vulcan. I believe the episode was named "Tripping the Stars Fantastic" or something like that. Check out episode 69 and I'll be in the credits as Rebel Voltan.

Of course, they didn't bother to get the makeup right cause I wasn't a "big star" like Lenny - that would be Mr. Nimoy to most of you...

No, really. I swear it's almost true.

For less (and possibly more) silly HNT goodness and the info, go see Mr. Os-basso!

peace... oh, wait, live long and, like, prosper and stuff.

Words of Wednesday 5.10.2006

2006-05-10T14:44:00.000-05:00

At my desk I sit and ponder
my thoughts do flit and wander
Of women fair and winsome stares
and memories of yonder

Of simple times when all books rhymed
and turn of page on chime
Of Dr. Seuss and Mother Goose
and Howdy Doody Time

And now I see what I did miss
for as a child in bliss
I never knew the tangled world
could be so full of twist

Of questions grey and issues deep
and memories I'm wont to keep
Of downcast eyes and granite stone
and all that made me weep

Of fruit I've eaten so it seems
and horrid knowledge, torrid streams
and though I flounder eat my fill
in silence drown the screams

Tall Tale Tuesday 2

2006-05-09T11:05:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine is a shop teacher in high school. Actually, they renamed that entire department to, get this, Technology Education - or TechEd for short. I suppose they have indeed moved with the times. Back in the day, all the shop students learned was how to use power tools, drill presses, lathes, and the like. Nowadays they learn about video and editing, radio production, computers, communications, the nature of electricity and technology in the world and how to solve problems... so I suppose it was time to rename it. But back THEN? They would make clocks and lamps and bongs (well, some of them did, unbeknownst to the teacher... or so they thought) and other ... stuff made of wood. A bit like witches, being made of wood, but I digress...

Well, he told me once about this one girl, a young blonde, who truly lived up to the stereotype of women blessed (or cursed) with having locks of gold. Yes, a true blonde she was, not one of those bottle blondes, or blondes with roots. Ditzy as they come, he told me of one experience he had in class while trying to explain the various tools and tidbits they would use.

The story started about here... he said, "This is a band saw. It can be very dangerous, so please make sure to use extreme caution here, okay?"

"A what?" she asked

"A band saw," and he could see her face look a little confused. "Moving on... how about we start out with something simpler, okay?" He moved over to the carpentry toolboxes. "This is a hammer"

She seemed to recognize that one, just a bit.

He said, "This is a screwdriver, this here's a wrench, and... oh, here we go. This is a nail, this is a screw, and this here is a bolt." She looked a big confused there. So he looked at her and he asked her, "Do you know what the difference between a nail, a screw, and a bolt are?"

She looked a little panicked for a second, but then he saw that look in her eye as if a light switch had just turned on. He recognized that look and it is something teachers generally love to see - that look of comprehension and understanding - just as she replied...

"Well, I've never been bolted before."
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many thanks to Sierra for publishing Leisure Suit Larry when I was old enough to get all the jokes...
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Me Me Monday 2-71

2006-05-08T10:50:00.000-05:00

2-71 : I have a terrible "Save the Damsel in Distress" complex

Indeed, it is true.

I can't stand to see a woman cry. I cannot stand to see a woman being mistreated. I once considered this to be a great thing of moral value, a point of personal pride that I still believed in some things like chivalry and courtesy. I still open doors for ladies and the elderly. I try to be conscientious to people in line at the store - if I have a ton of stuff and they only have a few, there are many times when I will let the person behind me step ahead of me.

Of course, there is a flip side to this. I like also to be thanked, being that it is the polite AND CORRECT thing to do. If someone has done you a favor, such as open and hold the door for you, even if you did not ask for it, the proper AND CORRECT thing to do is to thank them. And if, say it is a restaurant, there is a line there and having held the door open would cause me to lose my place in line... well, the proper AND CORRECT thing to do would be to allow me the spot I would have had had I not been polite in the first place. That is only fitting.

And yet, some people simply take advantage of my kindness. I won't go to any great lengths to describe the sort of people who simply ignore the niceties most, but there is a group of people of a particular sex and a particular race who, by my experience, are simply the rudest. I won't go into making a list from top to bottom but the results might actually startle you as to who were the most polite and least.

Then again, maybe not. You cats out there seem to be a pretty perceptive bunch, on the whole - although SOME of you, again - not gonna point fingers - didn't really catch my whole HNT pic thing.

Have a great Monday anyway!
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2006-05-05T13:20:00.000-05:00

The TRUE Origins of...

Don't believe everything you read. I know they claim that it's the Mexican Independence Day. But who are we kidding here? Are they, dare I say it, truly independent? One can hardly accept that when their second largest source of income for their ENTIRE COUNTRY is the illegal wages paid to immigrant laborers who have done the Rio Grande Backstroke into the United States. Now, all politics aside, here is the TRUE story about the origins of this special day.

Back in the early days of colonization, England, France, Spain, and Portugal were all competing for the massive landgrab that the American continents provided them. Spain had taken an early lead throughout the North American territories and one of the fruits of their labor was the discovery of a food dressing that was created from the processing of eggs. Indeed. Mayonnaise was discovered in the Americas and, truth be known, the taste for it across the big pond of the Atlantic grew at an incredible pace. The demand for the production of this product led to numerous conflicts and trade across the Atlantic required special consideration for the safe transport of this once priceless condiment.

The Queen of Spain herself took out a special writ and ordered an entire shipload of said product for use in her palace. The ordered was taken overseas to the colonies and exhorbitant amounts of gold and silver were laid out to pay for the expense. The grand transport ship, the El Caca del Toro, was loaded carefully and set sail for Spain with all due haste. Unfortunately, it was sunk before it could ever leave sight of the coastlands of the Americas. So great was the loss in both gold and pride that they dedicated a memorial to honor the day the El Caca del Toro went to Davey Jones locker.

And that day, my friends, was called

Sinko de Mayo.

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Yeah, I went there. Have a great weekend!

2006-05-04T12:07:00.000-05:00

Half Nekkid Takeoff

Yep, it was a fun trip down at Camp Lejeune. I took some time to visit the attached New River Marine Corps Air Station, where I managed to sneak a lift on this jet for some high-flying video action. Yes, it was a big rush for me. For more HNT details, go seek the Wizard Osbasso!

Words of Wednesday

2006-05-03T11:15:00.000-05:00

I sat myself upon my knee
and considered all I've seen,
I asked me why the maple tree
should cry about the green.

I looked then at my opened eyes
and wondered what I'd said,
And how such thoughts of unheard sounds
should enter in my head.

"Do you know just what it is
that makes you hear no sound?
Do you believe in fantasy
and truth in lies unbound?"

I didn't have the answer then
perhaps I never will,
'Til then my friend I'll call you when
I see beyond the hill.

Perhaps it's not what I have seen
perhaps not what I've heard
Perhaps it's lack of faith in faith
and lack of trust in word.

Perhaps there is another place
just past that wistful rise
Perhaps that's where my answers lie
and with it wisdom wise.

Or maybe I just look too hard
and strain to look too far
When all I need is in the back seat
of my beatup car.

A Tall Tale

2006-05-02T09:56:00.000-05:00

"RUN!"

her scream pierced the forest with the sharpness of her fear. Out of a thicket just behind them came the obvious source of that stark terror. It stood over 12 feet tall at the shoulder, and though its lumbering gate looked neither quick nor effective, it was apparent that this beast was obviously catching up to them, its scaly reptilian skin reflecting a shimmering array of colours with each beam of sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy of growth.

She thought back over her last week... wondered if she would ever see her home, her loving family... ever again.

Milla was just on her way back home from her weekly shopping trip down to Mulberville when she saw that first, odd plume of smoke in the sky. She noted with trepidation that the plume of smoke was making a beeline for Triddville, her home. She picked up speed. She ran.

She ran fast. In all of Triddington, or at least her hometown and the neighboring villages, there were few who could outpace Milla... she was faster than even most of the boys, though they would never have admitted as much.

But on this day, she was not fast enough.

She arrived home to a scene of chaos and destruction, the huge, serpentine shape spouting forth fire onto the building and it's large claws could be seen tearing apart others - the dim, screaming shapes of Tridds flying left and right as the great dragon kicked them here and there and everywhere...

These thoughts flew by in an instant as she ran for all she was worth, trying to evade the dragon in the woods... but he was catching up to them... inch by inch... hair by hair... She could sense the warmth of the dragon's breath on her shoulder, smell that rancid sulfur of his belly fires...

"TURN!!"

she shouted to her friend, Pavil, who had come along in hopes of helping talk the dragon into leaving their peaceful village alone... obviously to no avail. The road quickly approached... on the road waited their horses, who would approach no nearer than that, their keen sense of smell made it all but impossible to drag them more than one or two steps closer to the dragon's lair.
But they weren't quick enough.

Just as their feet started to hit some of the loose gravel at the edge of the road, the dragon managed to swing forth one of his mighty feet and connected with Pavil solidly. The dragon's kick sent Pavil flying through the woods, his screams slowly dying out as he flew away.

Milla turned once to look back and *WHAM* ran right into a Jewish Rabbi... she went spinning and fell down on the ground. The wyrm skidded to a halt in front of the Rabbi, who squeaked out a quiet little, "Oy vey!" as the dragon sidestepped him, reared back with his right foreclaw and punted Milla down the road, her anguished cry drowned out by the dragon's roar of rage.

The dragon then turned to look at the Rabbi, sized him up one side and down the other, noting the golden-clasped Torah clenched firmly in his grip, and turned to go back to his lair.

"Wait, mister dragon.... wait a second," the rabbi called out. "I do not understand. You chased these 2 poor Trids through the woods and gave them a great booting and yet you spared me. Why have you granted me such mercy?"

The dragon turned to him and stated, simply,
"Silly Rabbi. Kicks are for Trids"
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No Post Today

2006-04-28T12:40:00.000-05:00

Actually, I guess it should say there is no post today, other than a post saying that there is no post today.

I suppose I could just as readily have said, "This post intentionally left blank."

I've often wondered why they do that in texts - they write "this page intentionally left blank" on a page. This self-contradiction makes me laugh - they just printed that on the page, so can you call it blank? What the hell?

And why do they call it "dusting the furniture" ? Shouldn't they be taking the dust OFF the furniture - maybe ANTI-dusting the furniture would be better?

And what's the point of a hot water heater. The water is hot. Why the hell would you heat it? It's already hot. Durf.

And of course there are all of these oxymorons:
Government Trust
Military Intelligence
Honest Man
Logical Woman
Reasonable Child

I suppose we just have to live with our own contradictions... perhaps it is just a sign of how we are as people... it just is the way it is.
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Well... whatever, I guess. Have a great weekend!

Or is that week-beginning?

I (Have) Never...

2006-04-27T09:57:00.000-05:00

have an HNT pic ready until the last minute - hence, no pic today - yes, I truly suck
thought I would see things the way I see them now.
have exact change for tolls - I love Smart Tag
had sex with a man, boy, male of the species
been on TV, to my recollection... except maybe as one of a very large group, like the Marching Virginians of Virginia Tech
met Kevin Bacon
met the president
believed that the speed of light is the absolute limit... being that it is relative
had a child... that I know of
been in a jail cell - knock on wood for keeping this one so
had the chance to join the Mile High Club
not paid someone back that I borrowed money from - if I have, please write me and tell me otherwise cause I really did not intend to... I'm pretty good about it, you know?
served in the military
liked hospitals
eaten emu, snake, or possum
thought I was a "hottie" - I can usually go with "cute" and "charming"... that works for me, so who am I to complain?
been good at getting my taxes done on time... hope the IRS isn't checking out my blog. Not to worry, you guys owe me money... so back off!
enough time to write what I want... some of the time... like now.

Peace for now - maybe more later.
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Meetings

2006-04-26T13:10:00.000-05:00

They say that meetings are great - that they inspire productivity and efficiency - that they generate great new ideas - that they are the cornerstone of any good, well-oiled machine of a business.

Yeah. Right. I say someone invented these things to torture yours truly.

Dammit... I am in the middle of one right now - short break - and now I must return.

If you don't hear from me again, it is likely that the contents of the meeting have completely blanked my mind and put me upon some cult-like path of conform, wherein I start to wear polo shirts and khakis every day to work, and call my friends "Dude".

God help me and have mercy on my soul...
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2006-04-25T08:41:00.000-05:00

The Nature of Truth

Truth. You would think that such a nice little word would be so simple to define. The more I go along, the more I realize that truth is more slippery than an eel and more ephemeral than Jim Morrison's ghost. It's certainly harder to find than proof of Bigfoot's existence and more difficult to acquire than a good picture of Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster.

It always seems so subjective, too. What is truth to one person is simply a cover to another. One person might actually believe something that is false but accept is as truth. Does it make it any less true to that person? I suppose not.

I guess the real problem with such truths is when you try to apply your personal truths to other people...specifically, people who don't feel the same way... or people who simply "know better".

This reminds me of an incident from the "wilder" days of my youth. (Some would, of course, deny that my youth was truly wilder than my current life, but that's mere speculation and a topic for a different blog entry.) In any event, I got suspended from school. It was just an in school suspension for something really stupid, to be sure.

What was fascinating about this little tale is the word that spread about the reasons for my self-caused imprisonment. Some tales were simple - got busted with pot, cussed out a teacher, got into a fight. Other tales were much wilder, and usually combined the typical elements into something larger than life.

Far be it from reason to get in the way of such a tale.

This one cat named Ed - we called him Bucky cause we were cruel little bastards back in the day... really cruel... of course, he was really annoying and a bit of an asshole so we felt no need to revise the name, truth be known... and, again, there's that word - in any event, Bucky came up to me the day after I got out of "prison" and walked up to me and asked me how it felt. Of course, I asked him what the hell he was talking about and he unfolded this tale about what I had done.

He KNEW it to be absolutely TRUE regardless of what I told him.

Funny, you would think that I, of all people, would know the truth of the matter when it came to why I was in I.S.S., wouldn't you?

His tale went something like this:
The teachers insisted that they be allowed to search my locker because I was suspected of using or distributing drugs in school. This was a constant rumor held about me - I'm sure in part due to my half-asian eyes which gave me the look of someone constantly stoned. Well, as his tale claimed, I refused so the teacher grabbed me and shoved me against a locker. My response was to straight up slug the teacher in the face and as he was stumbling back I apparently pulled out this six inch blade, of which I owned none, and held him at bay with this knife. It seems I was a real bad-ass cause it took 2 cops and 3 teachers to finally take me down.

And for this I earned 3 days in In School Suspension.

Umm... say what? Methinks I would earn more like 1-5 years in Juvie or the state pen for that, no?

And like I said, no matter how I protested and told him that was not at all true, he insisted it was. Hell, he even went so far as to claim that he SAW it.

Unbelievable.

Seriously - he said he saw it. I wouldn't kid you about this... you can trust me to tell you the "truth"...

Now, how the hell do you only get 3 days I.S.S. for assault and battery, whipping out a deadly (and concealed) weapon, threatening the use of deadly force, and resisting arrest - not to mention the apparent multitudes of drug charges they were going to have against me? It's beyond me, I can tell you that much.

Now what was the truth? I got busted and sent to I.S.S. because I was late to school six times without a note to excuse my tardiness.

Truth is a funny thing. Kinda makes you wonder if there is anything true at all.
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Yet Another 101 Things About Moi

2006-04-24T09:43:00.000-05:00

Since I have completely lost my original train of thought, I decided to pull one of the oldie but goody blog tricks and use a "standard" idea to fill out the thoughts for the day. Being that it is also MeMe Monday, here are 101 Me Things. I guess the trick is not to duplicate from the previous list, eh?...

And having reread some of these list items... damn, I'm getting deep. You have been warned.

I can neither confirm nor deny that I have inhaled...
but I've been to a number of Dead Shows...
and several Phish shows...
and Bonnaroo...
where I slugged through a mile of ankle to knee deep mud to go see the Dead close the second night in 2004...
and loved every minute of it
I grew up in Hawaii, yet only had 1 chance to ever go surfing...
My father was a bit protective
And demanding
Every day I find myself saying more and more things that I have either heard or can imagine coming straight out of his mouth
Some of my best friends are black
I love it/hate it when people say things like #11 cause it is such the backhanded compliment... makes me laugh
I believe in political correctness
That is to say, I believe political correctness exists... I also believe that it should be eliminated completely so that we can finally "all just learn to get along"
I'm a smart-ass almost all the time
I think it might be at least partly genetic
Those who once believed I am a Cancer rising have since accepted my belief that I am really a Leo rising, given my crowd-ho tendencies and the love of being loved upon... then again, who WOULDN'T love that?
I still wonder at the truly dark thoughts in my soul... and I mean, they are DARK!
I used to write almost daily in a journal, the events and thoughts of my life
It was a very private thing
I haven't really written in one in almost 3 months
I am not sure why... it happens sometimes... I just get in a go-with-the-flow phase and just let the day-to-day ride on by...
It's usually when the stress I getting to me and I just tire of having to write it and think about it all the time
Or sometimes, I just get tired of writing it all down
or it could be some other reason I am keeping private, like my journal, you nosy fargin' bastages!
It's fascinating looking back on those journals... I've come across many a passage that immediately paints the scene in my mind, crystal clear... yet I would never have remembered it otherwise...
and other scenes, I can't recall at all... even though I am reading all about it
The privacy of my darkest thoughts, and thus my journal, is HIGHLY important to me... I cannot stress that enough
I am terrible at placing names to faces
I am pretty good at remembering the faces, though...
I bought a purple zippo lighter on the way to Parris Island... it is very cool
Well, it's cool to me, at least. You non-smokers... dammit, I envy you sometimes
I am rereading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series yet again... I am on Book 6 for the 4th or 5th time now... why? Well, first, it takes a long time for the next book in the series to come out. Second, this series has a multitude of plot lines and more names to keep track of than War and Peace. Put that together and I forget a ton of details between books... and book 11, as in TEN plus ONE, just came out last November... and I really want to read it... and I've forgotten everything...
Anyway, I'm on Book 6 again and every rereading is like a fresh one.
I reread books often. It's a new me every time, so every reading is different and fresh... when it's a good book, at least.
I wrote a song called "One More Day"
It's subtitled "Bitch"
I'm willing to answer questions on it, if you want to ask.... it's a funny song, when you get past the basic concept and shock of the word, Bitch.
Contrary to SOME opinions, it was NOT written with any single person in mind... it is simply an amalgamation of some of the worst bits and pieces...
I'm a self-admitted crowd-ho
I love being a ham on the stage... this is basically a repeat of 39
I no longer enjoy just getting drunk...
I used to do it all the time in college...
but I got over it... now I like to attain and maintain a nice buzz
I don't understand why people go and get trashed when they are upset... it only makes things worse.... I mean, there's a reason alcohol is classified as a DEPRESSANT. Damn.
I miss my motorcycle
I am so busy (and slack at times, too) that I STILL haven't gotten it back on the road
I sometimes wonder if I am the only person in the world who CANNOT read minds - this would explain A LOT.
I am a flirt... a terrible, terrible flirt.
I don't believe that is inconsistent with being faithful. Not at all.
I sometimes think that I think too much for my own good...
yet sometimes I act without thinking enough...
My favorite colors are blue and purple... and red, really. Red looks good on me, so they say...
I am told that aquamarine or similar blue colors are the best for me to wear, particularly in the summertime when I am tan...
which I do easily.
I lost my virginity some time ago... I think it just fell out of a hole in my pocket or something
I lost my innocence when I moved from Hawaii to Virginia...
I was the butt of many a racist joke and relentless hounding by rednecks when we moved to this state, at the tender age of 12
I believe that was one of the defining moments for me... it certainly led to many of my actions and beliefs...
My closest sibling, my older sister, died on April Fool's Day... I was 19, on the verge of 20.
She was in an unfortunate, unscheduled meeting between an Amtrak train and her car on a cold mid-December night 3 and a half months prior...
the crossbar that should have prevented anyone from driving across the tracks only went across 1 1/4 of the 2 northbound lanes... she was ever the on-the-go kind of girl
I still miss her to this day
I often wonder how things would be now, after all these years, if she were still around... how would my life be different? Would she have helped me to NOT go out with some of the "bad girls"? Would I have stayed with any of the "good girls"? Hell, she might have been singing with my band - she had a good voice...
My oldest brother is the only one of us 4 siblings who does not have a "clearly good" voice - it is definitely good enough for rock and he does keep in tune... he is not musically and tonally challenged... it's just not church or choir clean like my other (older) brother's and mine. It's definitely more Bob Dylan/Tom Petty vs my brother's Josh Groban pretty or my Paul Simon "folksy" voice... And my sister could do the 80's Pat Benatar thing, for real.
I won first prize in the 5th grade science fair with my best friend, Deven, for our experiment on cockroaches.
We captured them from a tree and put different drinks in front of them - KoolAid, Coke, Pepsi, and water - and measured which one was drunk the most. I did a huge backdrop with all this research on the various kinds of roaches. KoolAid, with it's massive sugar content, won hands down... but in the other taste test? Coke beat Pepsi. Keep that in mind for future purposes... cockroaches agree...
There are tons of roaches in Hawaii... trust me. We used to go "roach stomping" at night in the neighborhoods.... inch-long suckers would run across the cul-de-sacs in the evenings and we would go hop on them like little ketchup packets, trying to aim the goo at our friends. Yeah, gross. Only kids would ever think of doing that.
In Hawaii, it is pronounced "cock - a - roach"...
I have a terrible "Save the Damsel in Distress" complex
It unfortunately gets abused sometimes
I envy some of my friends' happy marriages with or without children
I would love to have kids someday ... and that would likely have to be soon... at the rate I'm going, I'll be retired before the kids graduate
I have fears that I might be a terrible father...
Many people have told me that I would make a great dad... me? I'm not so certain. I think I could be a "fun" dad or a "buddy" dad... but a great father? I think there's a difference.
But I'm pretty sure my kids would have great hair and a smart mouth... for good or ill
I sometimes wonder that, regardless of my desire for a family/married life... if I am actually just built in the bachelor mode... or maybe I am just too used to having more free reign over my own life.
Or do I just suck?
I give really good massages... that's what they tell me...
I will admit to using that as one of several sleazy techniques to try to hook up.
It has actually almost worked once.
And then I got slapped.
Well, not really, but why let the truth get in the way of a good story?
I own several guitars - like... umm... 4 electric guitars, a nice bass, an acoustic bass, a classical, and 2 Martin acoustic electrics... yeah, I love the Martin sound. They sing to me.
My first Martin was a gift from one of my dearest friends.
She has done more for helping come out of my shell as a person AND as a musician than anyone else I know. You know who you are, if you are reading this... so THANK YOU once again.
There are some debts I feel can never be repaid
I also believe there are some debts that never need repaying... it's just part of the process of having TRUE friends and REAL family... they aren't debts... they are blessings given...
There is only one person I think I could never forgive, having turned his back on me during one of my very darkest hours...
I like to go target shooting
I like driving fast, and I think I'm good at it...
I collect 1/6 scale action figures... some of them are very cool, in a totally geek, doll-collecting kind of way. (They are NOT GI Joe's... just so you know)
I have an R.Lee Ermey motivational figure, for instance. He spouts several "motivational lines" - some of which came straight from his role in "Full Metal Jacket, one of the finest films ever. EVER.
Did I mention I'm a crowd ho? Some people think that's a good thing to be for a wanna-be front man in a rock band. I'm not sure if I'm the front man in the band, but I am definitely the funny guy to the more straight man on stage, Kirk... who is actually a damned sharp and witty, dude. We make ourselves laugh a lot on stage, even if it's an empty gig.
Every show I play, there is at least one moment of zen magnificence... one moment where all the notes and harmonies and rhythms align themselves and make us feel like "Wow... we were really good right there, at that point." I think Thursday, we had several of those... it was a REALLY good show.
We are going to seriously make a run of this TV thing... details to come.
I wish I could make a livelihood out of performing music and television and all the rest...
For now, I'm happy that I have it for my LOVElihood...
Yeah, that's not a typo and I came up with that term the other day...
I'm thinking about copyrighting/trademarking it... I mean if that boxing announcer can put a trademark on "Let's get ready to rummmmbllllleeee!!!!" then why can't I?
I had a really hard time thinking of 101 worthwhile things to write... I'm not so sure I succeeded... feel free to blast me for it

And there you go. 101 overly wordy, less than riotous, somewhat laughable more useless tidbits of information about your truly, the Wop. Hope you all have a great week, given that today is MONDAY, the day Satan came up with. Of course it was him... he had to follow up God somehow, didn't he?
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2006-04-21T10:54:00.000-05:00

THANKS!!

I just want to send my gratitude and thanks to all the well-wishers out there and to those who actually came out to our show at the PourHouse last night. By all reports I have received, and those I have solicited for directly, we did well last night. Very well, according to some.

Maybe it's true. I can't say cause I am still coming down off the high I got from playing to an appreciative and decently-sized audience last night. They got me going and I got all kinds of pumped up off those endorphins and was in la la land for much of the night.

On a few of those songs, I was just so INTO it that I would realize halfway through that I was just dancing and bopping my head while I played.

You know, I used to look at dudes on stage that were all dancing about and think to myself, "Dude... you're totally being a dork. Why not just play the song?"

Well, I take it all back. I understand now.

No, wait. I GROK. I totally grok that vibe.

You can't stop it... it just takes over and you just ride the wave and let it go. The bouncing head and bouncing feet and the silly grin... all the way to the f""kfaces we guitarists make when we are playing some solo or lead guitar... it's all that same thing. No control - you are just so focused on the song, or so unfocused and letting it go that those things just happen.

It just does.

And it is such the damn rush.

I definitely got a big dose last night - and I hope it showed in our playing... people said it did.

Damn, I love endorphins.
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HNT - Hey, Nice Tweak

2006-04-20T10:26:00.000-05:00

It's hardly a new thing to do on HNT, the photoshopped picture with a bazillion effects on it, but it's the best I could do on short notice.

This pic was taken in my brother's recording studio when he and I were recording the song I wrote for our Fathers' Day Gift. It's just too bad we didn't get a shot of me "playing the drums" on the MIDI keyboard...

Some day, I'll actually get an audio post up here with something I've recorded... you have all been so patient with that up until now - I promise that it is in the works, be it as a Government Cheese product, or my long-awaited solo release... which I have a title for, but I'm going to keep that one a secret for now as well, being that it really is a good title.

Well, I think it's a great title anyway...

Go see the Man from Osbasso for all your HNT details

And for any in the Richmond area, come check us out tonight at THE POUR HOUSE!
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2006-04-19T11:27:00.000-05:00

4.20

This simple combination of numbers has started off more speculation into its meaning than any other I can think of. Most people mistakenly believe that it is some sort of California police code which supposedly means "Marijuana smoking in progress." That's not true.

I mean, let's look at that reasonably, first off... if it truly meant that... let's just picture L.A. for a second... the police scanner would be ablaze with nothing but 4.20 calls all damn day. I sometimes wonder if the smog over L.A. is not truly an inversion effect complicated by auto exhaust fumes, but rather a more Cheech and Chong "Up In Smoke" sort of effect from all the pot smoking that goes on in that city.

Of course, from what I've heard, they don't even compare to places like Boulder, Colorado. Not that I would know personally from experience, mind you. I have never been too Boulder.

And, no, it's not that I was so high that I couldn't remember it, neither.

But I know some hippies and hippie types... and they tell me that it's a very chill community. Denver too. They often joke about the whole "Mile High" thing. Go figure.

Anyways, another misguided belief is that 4.20 refers to the number of different compounds or the number of different carcinogens to be found in marijuana smoke. Again, this is not true. Even given the different blends and "brands" of pot out there, one can immediately see that it would be impossible to simply put 420 out there as the absolute number of chemicals in weed.

What may be closest to true has to do with a code used by buddies at some California school on where and/or when to meet to go get high... Pretty lame, yeah? But at the very least, assuming this is the truth, it does retain the whole 4.20 = let's go get high fact in all of the rumored meanings... which is good. Every good lie holds a nice kernel of truth in it to make it an easy to swallow pill.

But it's funny how the truth gets right out of the way of a good story, isn't it?

Kinda makes me wonder what people 50 years from now will think 4.20 stands for then.

Well, maybe some of us will still be around - if so, well... remember us from way back when, when we were already wrong...
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"That" Guy .... is BACK

2006-04-17T14:12:00.000-05:00

That's Right. I'm BACK!!

THAT Guy. This past week, I was THAT Guy. You know THAT Guy? He's the guy that goes to a rock concert and wears a t-shirt for the band he is going to see. That's THAT Guy. He gets looked at by all the other fans there... and the conversations go a bit like this:

Scene - A fictional show of the band... let's just say Government Cheese, mmkay? (yes, shameless self-promoting runs in the family, methinks)
---
guy 1 - "lookit that guy. He's wearing a Cheese shirt. What a 'tard!"
guy 2 - "Yeah. Like, dude... we're AT a Cheese show. You're here, therefore you like the Cheese, right? Durf"
guy 1 - "Like... DUH! Hell, he's probably a poser! Gotta act like the big GuvCheese fan so he can be cool."
guy 2 - "What a turdbreath."
guy 1 - "I bet he brushes his teeth before he goes to the dentist."
guy 2 - "Yeah, I bet he's the type that has his own band fan page."
guy 1 - "I bet he ate paste."
---
And this weekend, I was THAT Guy....

Only it wasn't at a rock concert. Nope. No, I went with S*** to watch a young man, her younger brother, graduate as a Marine down at Parris Island. I bought me a red Marine "fan" t-shirt with a humorous "oorah" type message on the back. I didn't wear it then, though - I had THAT much decency before falling prey to the urge to be THAT Guy.

But after the graduation ceremony, I drove S*** and I up to Camp Lejeuene to go and try to see her two sons. These are the ones I wrote about previously - they had graduated in December and one had just finished training in Fort Lost-in-the-Woods, Misery ( aka Fort Leonardwood, Missouri) and had just gotten transferred to be stationed there at Camp Lejeuene. The younger of her 2 Marine sons was still in training at Camp Giger, which is attached to Lejeuene... quite literally.

So after a long drive to Jacksonville, NC from Parris Island, SC - and let me tell you, it is definitely like unto going around your elbow to get to your asshole - there is NO convenient or quick way to get there - anyway, after the 'short' long drive, we took her eldest son around town a bit then went to the base so he could check out their Marine Exchange Mall. I got dressed with that Marine shirt I had purchased, if only cause the purple shirt I had was definitely for comfort only and not entirely presentable in public.

Now I know how THAT Guy at concerts feels. Every Marine and every OTHER person there was staring at me like I was from Dorkville, USA. My exceptionally long hair certainly didn't help, I am sure... but it was that shirt that got me noticed in the THAT Guy way.

Ahh, now I feel bad for all those THAT Guys the world over... my apologies...

or maybe I really was just a dork for a day...
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2006-04-11T11:15:00.000-05:00

Tuesdays Gone... With the Wind...

But not me. Nope. I'm still here, in town, at work. Sometimes it's nice to feel needed, you know? But sometimes you just wanna be able to get the hell outta Dodge and not care one whit about what happens back in the hometown, back at the office...

Ah well, guess I really can't complain.... well, yes I can. I do have some talent for that, apparently, but I just don't have the same conviction about this non-rant that I do for other things... like what you name a child.

Now, just the other day, a friend of mine told me a number of different names they had in mind for their baby to be. This led to a discussion of all sorts of horrible names to avoid... yes, I have an opinion on everything and here are a few more:

Skyler - this is not a good name for a boy... being that it is generally a girl's name
Richard - too easy, know what I mean?
Lemonjello and Orangello - supposedly, a "woman from the inner city" got these names from that tasty product (made from hoof) that Bill Cosby promo'd.
Eugene, Milo, Elmer - some names died out... for a good reason
Miles - only acceptable if your last name is "Long" . So Shelley Long could have a child name Miles... he could then work in the porn industry without changing his name.
Elliot - "Elliott? We're not going to name the kid Elliott. No. Elliott's a fat kid with glasses who eats paste. What he needs is a real name. A name! ..."

The conversation then took a turn to names that kids make fun of... which led to names that adults either make fun of or immediately notice. Laronron, Ladisha, Tiniqua, Skimikma, Anfernee, Mikal, etc - any of the thousands of obvious "ghetto" names. And not because they are bad, but it will literally screw you when you go to try and get a job. It's hard enough to get a job as it is, and your name is the first thing that says anything at all about you - first impressions are key here and a name that is ghetto will simply hurt you in getting a job.

This is not my opinion on the names - it's just the result of a study or opinion poll that was conducted by others.

With all this in mind, here are some names that roll right by as good, solid names:

John - although the kids love this one when they find out what you can call a toilet
Mike
Vincent - Vinny is a tough name. Who's gonna mess with someone who is likely to have 'family' in the 'garbage business'
Nick - Nick is your buddy and I quote : "Elliott? We're not going to name the kid Elliott. No. Elliott's a fat kid with glasses who eats paste. What he needs is a real name. A name! Like Nick. Nick's your buddy. Nick's the guy you can go out and drink a beer with, and he doesn't mind if you puke in his car. Nick."

Or maybe I'm just not as cool or as smart as I think I am...

My name isn't Nick. Maybe THAT's my problem...

But I have a nephew named Nick...
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Me Me Monday #74

2006-04-10T13:43:00.000-05:00

74. I've written somewhere in the nieghborhood of 100 songs' worth of lyrics

Yep. Well over a hundred now. Funny thing is, the more I write, the better I think I am getting. I suppose it is only natural - practicing at something makes you better at it, even with things of a creative nature. Or maybe my taste in music is just getting worse....

Seriously, though, I have written at least a few songs which I feel would be commercially viable in today's market. Of course, this does not mean I think they're good songs, just that they are marketable.

How do I "know" that I am getting better at writing songs? Well, it takes a lot less inspirado now than it used to. Which is good, because, as we should all know, you can't manufacture inspirado.

And I don't have to be in a particularly foul mood just to write anything sad... I don't have to be shit-eating-grin-having happy to write a happy song.... and, in fact, I doubt I would write a happy song. They usually sound WAAAY too sappy to satisfy me.

I think it's easier to write and angry or sad or depressed song than it is to write a good happy song that doesn't sound like you've been sucking down Sweet & Low's and Equal's and Splenda's while having a sugar cane anal thermometer punched up your rectum and a corn syrup IV.... It is hard to write a happy song that isn't too... well... happy. Now, pissed off music? That's easy. You can never really sound TOO pissed off in rock, now can you?

But a good happy tune? Pffthfhthfht. That's tough.

For me, anyways, it is. Maybe I think myself too "macho" to do it well... Maybe I am too morose deep within... maybe overly happy people just annoy me so I can't write about it. I don't know. Could be ANY of those things, really.

You know what I mean about the overly happy people. I mean, yeah, their lives are always so picture perfect... kinda makes you regret all the tiny little crappy things you've done by way of comparison sometimes, doesn't it? Bah.

Or maybe I'm just a grump.

Or it could be Monday.

Yeah, that's my excuse for today - it's f*()*$#@king Monday.

Warning - I will be out of town after Tuesday and might not be able to blog more until next week - but I will catch you ALL up, especially about my upcoming show at JP's this coming Thursday.

Any and all in South Carolina, near Parris Island, Hilton Head, Beaufort(?) - come out to JP's THursday night to check out some of the weird and wonderful of Wop of Government Cheese... I'll do my best to make you have a good time.

Help me help you help me by coming on out!!

Peace!

2006-04-07T08:06:00.000-05:00

Yawn

I . am . tired .

Period.

Worked till the end of the workday. Went home, loaded up, and went to the gig at the Bleu Bistro. Played from 8:50pm till, oh, 1am. Flirted and schmoozed and chit-chatted. Played designated driver. Came to work. Work work work.

Did I mention that part about being tired?

I need a direct coffee IV. Stat.

What the hell does STAT mean, anyway? Is that a latin abbreviation? What is it with the medical profession and latin? Why do they use latin terms for everything? What up with that? And, just in case you are unsure, I'm talking about the latin the ROMANS spoke waaaaay back in the day of their "big ole EMPIRE". I'm not talking about what the vatos and the SA's down in East LA speak... that's spanish, dude. And before you go there for me going there - Hey, Cheech wrote that song and did that movie - Born in East LA , so... before you go all "you're being racist" on me, just remember that, si?

Besides, I LOVE latinos. Some of my best friends are... okay, I won't finish that sentence...

Anyway.... you know, it doesn't give me much faith when doctors use a DEAD LANGUAGE when speaking medicine at me. How about they use a LIVING language instead? Hmm?

(Seriously, some people think that latinos or people from Latin Americans speak latin. Durf.)

But not French. Nope. French spoken badly sounds like someone having a seizure with a gerbil stuck up their butt and a snail lodged in their windpipe. It sounds like someone choking.

That wouldn't inspire confidence in most patients, I can tell you that much.

Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm wrong here

It has happened once or twice... ;)
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2006-04-06T09:52:00.000-05:00

HNT = Hands N Turkeys

Hands in turkey formation, Wop celebrates his recent birthday and a fine, fine birthday gift - a new Virginia Tech polo shirt. (you can just barely see it in the background)

For those not in the know, the mascot for the Virginia Tech Hokies is the Fighting Gobbler... a turkey... yeah, a fearsome beast, the turkey. Capable of staring up at the sky in the rain and drowning itself from sheer stupidity. Of course, they CLAIM that the word HOKIE started out as just a word to rhyme with in a cheer. Other sources, supposedly in the know, say that a Hokie is a turkey that has been outfitted with razors that was used in cockfighting... they'll also say they were castrated in the process.

I'm not so sure I'd want my mascot to be a castrated turkey, either....

Of course, none of these turkeys is to be confused with Wild Turkey, that bourbon of bourbons... it comes in both the mild 80 proof version, as well as the Kickin' Chicken version at 101 proof. I remember many a party I've started with the Kickin' Chicken... indeed...

Notice that I said, I remembered STARTING them...

Not so clear on the ending parts... ahh the days of youth, so nice and blessfully blurry - morning afters are really NOT all they're cracked up to be sometimes, after all.

For more HNT happiness and info, you must go see Osbasso. He is the man with the answers - and a TON of HNT happy links.

2006-04-05T08:38:00.000-05:00

What I know about the nature of women:
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( HINT: look on the wall in the back of the pic. )
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Okay, so my other title would have been "What to write about when you really have nothing to say... OR, at least nothing you CAN say without getting into trouble"... but that title was too long. This one says much the same thing.

But, as I searched the web for some appropriate or funny picture for the post, I came across a most fascinating website .... (google simply does rule, by the way). It is the home for the NATIONAL AMATEUR DODGEBALL ASSOCIATION.

No, I shitteth thee not.

Click on the link, if you don't believe me. I ain't skeered.

But be forewarned... it's gruesome...
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2006-04-04T09:10:00.000-05:00

HAPPY
BERFDAY
TO
ME
!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep... another year older. Not one whit wiser. You would think I would know by now to keep my mouth shut, right? I mean, after all these years.

But NOOOOOOOO!! I have to go and tell people and remind them that today is my birthday, right?

So what do I see when I come in to the office?

Signs.

Everywhere.

With large numbers on them.

With my age on them.

in BIG. BOLD. NUMBERS.

On the front door. Along the hallway. On the men's room door. On the ladies room door - I suppose in case I am so old that I forget which one I am SUPPOSED to use? On the hallway to my cube. All over my cube. On my monitors. On the keyboard. On my desk chair.

Oh, poor Robert Redford is crying over the trees used in celebrating my berfday....

Very nice. Thanks go to S* and P*, I'm sure.

Of course, now I have to waddle around the office all day and listen to "old man" jokes - you know the kind:

they'll yell to you to "make sure you can hear them"
they'll ask if you need any help with the restroom - "did you wear your Depends today?"
Naturally there will be some emails concerning Viagra, just to make sure I didn't lose that "oomph" in my life
And they'll ask me about my age as in the number of digits instead of years - have you rolled over yet?

Ahh, I just "LOVE" my coworkers.

Here's how I'm feeling about it all right now:

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Me Me Monday #29

2006-04-03T12:40:00.000-05:00

29. I wasn't a member of the Kiss Army as a child

So sue me. Ever been with a group of friends who all dig on some new fad or musical group... to the point of being nauseating? Ever want to just smack them on the head and say, "Shut up already!!" ? Sometimes, you really want to belong, but if you're too far behind the game, then playing catch up can be really hard to do.

I suppose it was a bit that way with me and KISS.. and 'rasslin'... All my buddies in Hawaii all LOVED KISS. Card-carrying members of the KISS Army all. Me? I didn't even know who the hell they were, to be quite honest. I was pretty sheltered at that age in a lot of ways. 'Rasslin was almost as popular with my friends as it apparently is around these Southeastern parts. Ricky Steamboat. The Nature Boy, Ric Flair... oh yeah, my buddies loved that crap. Me? I guess I was too busy watching Japanese anime' to care... as for KISS...

I'll never forget how excited they were when "the Kiss MOVIE" was announced - KISS as superheroes. What more could you ask for as a near-teen boy?? I mean, they were ROCK GODS and they already had the outfits and makeup and whatnot, right? (And according to some, Gene Simmons did indeed have superhuman powers... all related to that 47-inch tongue of his... go figure)

Me? I decided to watch it just to see if I could figure out what the whole KISS deal was... and all I can say about that made-for-TV (with all the cheesiest of special effects) movie? CRAP. It was C.R.A.P. No, wait, it was KRAP with a K !! I could barely get through watching 10 minutes of that hideous hunk of shite.

So I simply tuned out from KISS. I never enlisted in the KISS Army. Nope. Of course, it wasn't long till the overfascination with KISS changed to something else, for which I was greatly pleased, at the time. I guess that's just the way it goes with kids, eh?

Now, of course, years later I go and listen to KISS and I have come to find a true appreciation of the very CHEESE they put out. They really could put on a show and they really did target their audience well. Perhaps it was the movie - Detroit, Rock City - that settled that old score for me. I can believe it now. I can believe in the KISS Army.

Back then? I was just a day late and a dollar short...

Let's Get Ready to RUMBLE ! ! ! ! !

2006-03-31T18:21:00.000-05:00

...and how was YOUR day?

2006-03-31T14:47:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine, M*, a lovely young mother with a cool dude of a husband, G*, told me her tale of woe from just the other day...

So, her mother and grandmother came to town to visit with their child, M*. G* had had previous experiences with them, and he knew that his restful day off would be more a curse than a blessing... sometimes, that's just how it goes with the in-laws, right?

Well, mom and granny rolled into town just the other day. Lucky for G*, he was at work. (See, even having to open a store at oh-dark-thirty in the morning can be a blessing sometimes!) Mom and granny decided they wanted to go shopping with their lovely offspring, M*, but first they needed to run by the drugstore.

You know, I never knew that running over a mailbox was included in running to the store.... must be a family tradition or something cause Mom took that bitch right out. Knocked it flat, crushed, smashed, and took out one of the little driveway lights along with it.

The driveway lights were put in just last week. Can you say, "Hooray?"

So, they finally go shopping. M* drives them in her Liberty and takes them out to the big, new walkabout mall. This requires a ride on the interstate in these parts. Well, somehow, along the way, mom and granny decided to get into an argument.

Now, these are two women born and bred in THE BRONX. Do you know what women who grow up in the Bronx are like? Do I really need to go into details? Well, let's just say, to simplify things a bit, that they do not pull ANY punches. They don't exactly speak all lady-like at all times. And they certainly have plenty 'nuff New York attitude to lay it all out there. Harridan. I think that's the word I am looking for.

Well, they start with the arguing. The arguing leads to cussing... and in true New York fashion, again, no holds barred. Granny even goes so far as to call Mom a C*NT. Yeah, you read that right here...

So they get to fighting. And when I say they get to fighting, I mean they start swinging fists. Mom hits granny on the shoulder. Well old G-Ma ain't having none-o-that. Oh, HELL NO! She whips out her CANE and starts whacking on the mom with it. All this while M* is trying to drive down the interstate. Stray blows are popping poor M* in the head... so there they are, swerving down the interstate at about, oh, 65 mph, fists a flying, cuss words a-rolling...

Can you just picture this lil old lady, must be somewhere near 70 or more, whipping her cane out on her daughter, a woman who must be in her 50's, IN the car, ON the interstate, while the poor grandchild is driving?

And what up with the cane? And cussing like sailors?

Damn. Don't you just love visits from the family?

Jesus... if NOTHING else belongs on THIS blog, well... this SURELY fits.

Some straight up redneck hoo ha from New Yorkers. I love it.

Maybe it's just me, but I was so stunned that, well, I laughed my ass off about it, after the fact... of course.

HNT - Hot Neat Tasty

2006-03-30T14:57:00.000-05:00

Well, here it is... HNThursday once again... and once again I have no picture.

Sorry, people. I had to play a gig last night... wish I had taken some pictures. Oh well. Suffice it to say that we had a very large time. The drummer for the up and coming heavy rock band, Force of Habit came out and sat in with us. It was all very cool having a drummer throwin' down the beat behind us.... ahhh...

reminds me of days gone by... like, just a couple of months ago. Damn!

Ahh, the good old days.... yep, I miss 2005... it seems so far away now...

Eat a PETA

2006-03-29T09:20:00.000-05:00

So what the hell is PETA, anyway?

PETA = People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals?

or could it be

PETA = People for the Early Termination of Animals

or possibly

PETA = People Eradicating Tons of Animals

or, my personal favorite

PETA = People for the Eating of Tasty Animals

Well, PETA CLAIMS to be for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, that seems to be much further from the truth.
In recent events, two North Carolinian members of PETA, were arrested for stealing animals from rescue shelters and illegally euthanizing them. Umm... so THAT's what they mean by ethical? One of the two apparently goes by the nickname "Mother of all Animals"... sounds a bit too much like "Mother of all Wars" to me. (.see story.)

And see THIS STORY - the sick details of some of PeTA's actions

Now, don't get me wrong. I love animals. I think they should be treated with great respect. I would definitely wish (or perhaps even DO) harm upon someone who harmed an animal intentionally. But PETA uses the most ruthless of tactics and the slickest of lies to get their own personal agendas across, regardless of whether or not it holds true to their so-called ideal.

Evidence of this is given by this website : petakillsanimals.com

PETA apparently kills more animals than it adopts out. Lots more. And they do a lot of them illegally. They've gone so far as to steal animals from rescue shelters, as indicated in the story above. They have also been known to go to animal hospitals, which regularly get strays, and tell them they will care for the animals and see that they are adopted out.... and then kill them less than 24 hours later - this last story mentions one round of killing occurring WITHIN AN HOUR of picking the animals up, on the pretense of adopting them out.

Yep, sure sounds ethical to me.

But, PETA does have one saving grace. They have one great slogan that makes me laugh every time I see it:
Mmm... I wonder if PETA members ever catch themselves saying, "mmm, tastes like chicken" ? sick, evil bastards...
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Tales from the Drunk Side

2006-03-28T10:23:00.000-05:00

So I heard some stories the other day when we partied like rock stars (go to the band's myspace blog for vague non-details...) and I heard a few tales...
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This young woman, who may or may not be acquainted with me, was in a mood. A good kind of mood. A REALLY good kind of mood. Unfortunately for her, her husband was TWO hours away with HIS BOSS trying to pull off a big sales deal.

But she was definitely in a mood.

The kind of mood that doesn't let you go...

Okay, she was HORNY, people. Do I have to spell it out for you? H.O.R.N.Y.

She was practically in a lather....

and she loved her man so...

and she wanted to be all warmed up for him...

let me just interrupt this tale to say that nipple clamps and baby oil are NOT a good combination

Sure, it all starts out fine - the intense pressure, the slickness of the oil, just getting herself all worked up for when her man comes home...

mmm... a pretty picture, eh?

yep, all so right until it starts to hurt...

and so you try to take them off but...

you can't get a grip on the clamps...

so maybe you can go wash your hands...

but the door is closed...

and the bathroom is on THE OTHER SIDE of it...

Try this new math out:
Baby oil
+
doorknob
=
something akin to my first prom date...

which is to say:
NOT MUCH HAPPENIN'

baby oil has this way of just sticking to you... wiping on the sheets doesn't really help much... and the pain does start to get to you after a while...

I mean, I don't know PERSONALLY, but I imagine it does... that's what I've HEARD.
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yep, so there my man was, on site, 2 hours away, when he gets this frantic phone call, an emergency call from his wife saying he HAD to come home.
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Yep.
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He flew home. He loves his wife. A good man.

Gets home. No fire trucks. hmm.

No police cars... well, THAT's a good sign

No ambulance... no Bambulance, for that matter...

rush in...

he hears her pleading wail from the bedroom...

could it be... AN INTRUDER???

He runs... he slams the door open...
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Can you just picture it?

Like I said, it all sounded like such a good idea at the start.
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2006-03-27T14:19:00.000-05:00

We Might Have a TV Show

Yeah, I know... I wouldn't believe me either... but it's true.

We're still hammering out the details and trying to find the proper venue to host it... but we're working on it. You never know, right? Who knows just what this could lead to? At the very least, it will be a hell of an experience...

I know I could have said hella experience and that it would be hella good... what the hell? That elitist linguist in me is sticking out his ugly head now... Why did hella even come to be? Are we just that damned lazy that we can't take the time to type, much less say, a couple more letters?

Geez!

And, from what I understand, "it's the bomb" is way passe'... that changed to "it's bum"... WTF? I think you can combine these into "it's hella bum" to describe something completely awesome... but I could be wrong.

Why do I even bother trying to keep up?

The more these kids speak, the worse it all gets. And GOD FORBID you use the wrong term as an adult. Best to simply stick to proper english, then them evil youngins can't crucify you for it.

Dammit.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, TV show. When I know, YOU'LL know. Let's just say it combines 2 or 3 of my favorite things, plus it will give me some air time so I can REALLY make an ass out of myself... sometimes that's exactly what is needed to get noticed.

Wish us luck!
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TGIF

2006-03-24T14:54:00.000-05:00

What does it mean?

to working schlubs, like me - Thank God It's Friday

to a blonde - Toes Go In First

Men, on women - They Get Irritated Fast

Women, on men - Thank God I'm Female

Rednecks on gay men - Them Guys Is Flamin'

Men who know - Tongue Gear Improves Fellatio

Swat in San Fran - Tear Gas Is Fab

My buddy Lisa & I on Mr. Sub's gyros - Tasty Goat Is Fine

Most adults - Teenagers Get Irritating Fast

describe myself on this post -Touchy Git is Insufferably Flatulent
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Some days...

2006-03-23T14:08:00.000-05:00

A Band Cannot Live By Bread Alone.

We need cheese too. Or peanut butter.

I look at all these lyrics I write... sometimes I think they're very good... and then there are other times when I read them and I think to myself, "Damn, Wop. It's a good thing you've got a day job." But last night, at this little Open Mic thing at a West End pub known as the Pour House, I did receive some very gratifying responses. The kind of roars, laughter, and shouting that reaffirm your faith in the effort... the kind that answers the question of "Why the hell do I do this again?" The sort of response you can ONLY get when you've got a drunk, rowdy crowd on your hands... unless you're Jesus, which I am not. (nope, and I don't play one on TV neither)

I think many of you fellow bloggers out there feel a bit of this yourselves. Isn't it nice when someone puts down a comment on your blog, throws out a little nugget of affirmation by saying something like, "great post" or "You are SO right!" or "You go, girl!" ... okay, that last one doesn't work so much for me, but you get the general idea, right?

I know a lot of people lurk out there and never say a word... and that's all good and well, but it's a bit like being someone who goes to a concert and just sits on their hands, never applauding or booing or screaming or anything. And while this isn't the most interactive of environments, there is still a bit of feedback that goes on... I don't know about you, but that seems a bit dull... so have some fun with it... your comment could become the reason for a tailor-made entry... truly.

And I'm not complaining - I'm just thinking maybe you might want to post a thought. Hey, lots of us accept anonymous comments, for good or ill. And don't be insulted by the WORD VERIFICATION (cue the dramatic evil music) - when that is NOT turned on, I get a ton of comments, all from crappy autoposting programs - basically online telemarketers wasting my time and yours.

And, hey, I do my best to respond to any and all comments, so you'll get a little response back with every poke you send my way.... unless I somehow become UBER-popular, which seems unlikely in the extreme.

SO, if you like the blogs out there... take a few seconds to let the blogger know so... each word you send out is a nice thank you, in and of itself.

And really, is it so bad for people to be kind?
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Me Me Monday #27

2006-03-22T13:39:00.000-05:00

Yes, I KNOW it's Wednesday... but my Monday post came up out of the blue and then blogger has been having shits for the past few days so I couldn't do this anyway... so a bit of a time warp for you... 27. I'm an "Elvis"-man with "Beatles"-man tendencies

I bet some of you are simply scratching your heads and wondering - what the hell is he talking about? Well... I suppose it's one of those things you just have to GROK. It's not really something you can simply explain... you just have to know it. It's not even about knowing or being a fan of either Elvis or the Beatles. You can be a complete Elvis man and not even know any of his songs... although I would really have to wonder which rock you'd been hiding under all these years if you didn't know ANY Elvis songs... or Beatles tunes, for that matter.

I have read a number of bits on the web where people discuss it - it was even brought into the modern pop culture via "Pulp Fiction", a fine movie with some fine dialogue, to be sure. A lot of those people mistakenly believe that it has something to do with the music... and in a sense, it does... but truly, it does not. Not directly, at least. Not in its entirety.

Batmobile sighting in Anchorage, Alaska

In a way, it's a bit like trying to know what it is to be a bat. What is the nature of a bat? Is it having the wings and the sensation of flight? Is it hearing your way to sight? Is it eating mosquitoes and fruit in the middle of the night? Yes, it is ALL of those things, but is that the essence of being a bat? And you can't simply hold the shape of a bat and understand what it IS to BE a bat - you would simply be a human in the form of a bat.. and that's not the same thing. To KNOW what it is to BE a bat, you must actually BE one... and when that happens, you will not be able to speak what it is... you will simply know it. You will GROK Batness.

So it is with being an Elvis man vs a Beatles man... you just know.

Now, I dig the Beatles, I truly do... moreso than, really, a lot of Elvis' stuff... but I'm an Elvis man, through and through... though sometimes I do show a few of those tendencies that make a Beatles-man.

I wish I could somehow make you see, make you grok Elvis-man-dome...

but I can't make you a bat, can I?
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Move along... move along...

2006-03-21T16:23:00.000-05:00

Nothing to see here. Nothing important going on here...

move along...

move along...
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(this means that I am busier than a Vegas ho in convention week and have no time to be witty AND type it all in...)
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Busy Busy Busy

2006-03-20T17:01:00.000-05:00

We busy with making the American Cheese Dream come true so no real post today... but you can check out our work so far at:

MYSPACE.COM/uscheeseclick me

That's us. And that song there is only half done - like I haven't even gotten MY parts recorded on it yet... but link us and check us out. We're there!
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2006-03-16T11:25:00.000-05:00

Quotes and Misquotes

You really sound like you need a Prozac.... and I think you should go get some counseling for that drug problem you're developing - This is funny in and of itself, but the best part of this quote is that the speaker is a semi-recovered heroin addict. Yeah, go 'head pot, call that kettle black.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Her - there ain't NO way I'm gonna let no woman stick her p***y in my face
Him - *disappointed sigh*
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Loved the set. Hated the boobie song. - which is too bad... the song was practically written for her (or should I say "them").... well, not really... but it sounds better that way.
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By the time I am done with her, she's gonna be nothin but a quivering pile of "oh shit that was good." - and, NO, I wasn't the one saying it. No. Really, I wasn't.
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She's so fine... yep, that there is my future ex-mistress. - Okay, I can neither confirm nor deny the speaker here.
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Bitch. - Hmm... you just had to be there for this one.
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How can I make love to myself when I have no fingers? - Yep.. that pretty much says it all, really.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
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Songs to Learn

2006-03-15T18:39:00.000-05:00

This picture has NOTHING to do with what follows... but I just couldn't help myself.
The pic takes you to the site of some of my future purchases, I am sure.

Okay, I think I may be going senile. I come back to this log time and again and I recall things I write here ... some of the time. WIth that in mind, AND, knowing that I have a long list of songs to learn, I'm going to be Senor Slackamundo and write that list here - this will serve multiple purposes, so this should make any efficiency experts happy:

I will have my list of "to learn" songs typed out in a format that will allow repeated printings - I have been using paper to make these lists in times past. The simple fact is that I often misplace these lists or flat out lose them. This, in turn, requires me to write the list down again. I swear - I have written about 20 "to learn" lists in the past month or two. Sad. Very sad. But now, I can just come to my blog and print them off.
It will give you adoring (and not so adoring) readers out there a small glimpse into what I play... and feel free to make suggestions to add to the list - when I get famous (yeah, right), you just might get to hear me play it JUST FOR YOU. Nice, yeah?
Since I keep coming back here all the damned time, I'll have to read the list again and again, thus prompting me to actually go about learning them.
It doubles as my blog entry. This is a good one. A major one really - I had nothing else when I started it.

So, here you go - feel free to make comments and complaints as desired - I'm open to all kinds of input... musically, at least:

Dave Matthews : Say Goodbye - this one really requires a percussionist and would do well with a band... and there are very few people who can make a song about a one night affair between friends, friends who have significant others, and make it sound like a REALLY good idea.
Ben Harper : Walk Away - simple tune... only he makes it hard to play and sing with his offbeat vocals. Or maybe I'm just not that good. Hmm... could be. Played it last night and it came out... okay. Not great. Needs work. The little hottie girl that requested I learned it gave me big hugs and a kiss... hmm, maybe there really IS something to this being a musician thing. Girl had ghetto-booty, for real... mm.. where was I? oh yes...
Ben Harper : Burn One Down - a band. I need a band... really, this means I need a drummer, bass player, and a percussionist... a keyboard player would be just too sweet, but who am I kidding? It's hard enough finding a bass player who can play funky AND rockin'.
Jack Johnson : Taylor - you know, Taylor WAS a good girl... last time I checked, anyway.
Simon & Garfunkel : Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover - I can already envision this funked up version of it... dammit, I REALLY need a percussion section and funk bass master.
Simon & Garfunkel : American Tune - I just like that song. So sue me. Well, first go get high, then listen to the song, THEN see if you still WANT to sue me.
Jimi Hendrix : All Along the Watchtower - Well, yeah. I know it's a Dylan song... but Jimi's version is the sh1t!
Kenny Wayne Shepherd : Blue on Black - and why not? Oh, that's right... we need that drummer thing..
Gram Parsons : 1000 Dollar Wedding - come to think of it, when he wrote it, a thousand dollar wedding was a BIG to-do. Nowadays it gets you a justice of the peace, some finger sammiches, a dj with an iPod, and beer - unless you KNOW people who can give you the hookup.. for real. Weddings are DANG expensive.
Extreme : More Than Words - hey, the chicks LOVE this song. It's really not THAT difficult a song, so long as you have the vocals for it
Elton John : Funeral For a Friend - did I mention needing a keyboardist?
Led Zeppelin : Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You - of course... who the hell could actually SING it like my man, Robert Plant? Damn. Guess I'll just stick to the Paul Simon and Ben Harper type material
Led Zeppelin : Immigrant Song - that song always gets the blood pumping. Can't help it. Even I feel like I am descended of Vikings when I hear it.
Tenacious D : Tribute - I can play it. I can sing Jack's part. I can even do that scat bit in the middle... I just need someone else to play it with so we can do that harmony and the scat thing in the middle of the song - it really makes the song. That, plus drums... and bass... You're getting tired of hearing me bitch and moan about not having a bass player or a drummer by now, aren't you? Well, imagine how tired I am of not having one. What Would Jesus Do without a bass player? He'd bitch about it to... only then he could split the heavens and make one, right? Dammit. Wish I were Jesus. He had 12 dudes backing HIM up... that's like a whole rhythm section PLUS he's got a whole horn section and, hell, a whole choir to do backup vocals for HIM...
Blake Shelton : Rednecks of the Free World ( or something like that) - It's some medley like song someone asked me to learn. That's definitely not the right title... it's a country song. That's why I don't know the title - I usually don't do country...
Sublime : Santeria - no problem. Been bugged by too many people to learn some Sublime... so I might as well learn one, right?
Sublime : other stuff - well if I only had a horn section to go with that bass, percussionist, drummer, and keyboard... man, I'd be SET. And I've really, REALLY been hit up for Sublime... so people like 'em, right?
311 : Beautiful Disaster - yeah. Again with the drummer thing. Dammit.
Prince : Alphabet Street - my sister, Ant-i, would DEFINITELY appreciate this.
Prince : Let's Go Crazy - "... dearly beloved... we are gathered here today to get through this thing called LIFE.... electric word life, it means forever and that's a mighty long time, but I'm HERE TO TELL YOU... there's something else.. (keyboard roll) .. the Afterworld... a world of never-ending happines... You can always see the sun... day... or night... so if you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills, you know the one, Dr. Everything'll-Be-All-Right,... instead of asking him how much of you time is left... ask him how much of your mind, baby... Cause in this life, things are much HARDER than in the afterworld... in this life...? You're on your own!!! . . . And if the elevator tries to bring you, go CRAZY. Punch to a higher floor" ... Need I say more?
Bob Dylan : lots of stuff - people keep asking for it. Who am I to argue with them? Besides, the man could plain f**kin write some lyrics and music.
Phish : Y.E.M. - If I can play this song at anywhere NEAR the speed Trey does, then I will consider myself to finally be a GOOD guitarist. Until then, I consider myself lucky that I have a decent voice and can play a middling guitar. Yeah, most musicians I know always talk down on their abilities and always talk about this cat or that dude who can "flat out play". We are usually our own worst critics. But I promise to consider myself "GOOD", as opposed to just "DECENT" when I can play this song. Promise.
Grateful Dead : Sugar Magnolia - always a good song for dancing
Black Crowes : Remedy - if we only had some "Blackup singers". Hey, I think that's an industry term, so back off...
something by Matchbox 20 - again, it's all for the wimmins...
something by Three Doors Down - "the chicks dig it"
Johnny Cash : Ring of Fire - You just can't do without the Man in Black... albeit I pictured a very, VERY funked up version of this song
The Gourds : Gin & Juice - A lot of people seem to think Phish did this cover of the Snoop Dogg tune. I'm here to testify to you that, FOR A FACT, it was NOT Phish. It was this not well known group, the Gourds. I have the CD. I won a 100 dollar bet that it was NOT Phish. Well, 100 bucks worth of drinks. Collecting it all was a lot of fun, if messy, and painful in the morning after...
Doug Powell : Your Mom - comedian out of Baltimore, methinks. Funny cat... always meant to write a 'yo mama' song but he beat me to the punch... and did a find job of it. Click the link and check it out. If you live in the area, go check him out live. Tell him Wop sent you.... he will then look at you and say, "Who the hell is Wop?" as if he doesn't know me.... well, it's cause he really doesn't... whatever. Go check it out. That's a Wopter's orders.
Bloodhound Gang : some song about a Lap Dance or other - dunno the title... I'll ask Kirk
and, of course, I guess I should really learn to play all the songs I wrote, eh? Well... there are dozens there... dammit.

And while we speak, there is RECORDING happening... CD to come within the next few months, we hope... at least a demo version...

Will keep you posted... get it, posted... aw hell.. never mind.
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3.16 update:

Santana : Smooth - this song is exactly what the title says it is. Santana. That man can "flat out play"
Santana : Black Magic Woman - suuuure, it's so "done". It's also so very Santana

3.21 update:

John Prine : not sure which song - but people keep asking for some Prine... there must be something out there, right?
Rolling Stones : Sympathy For the Devil - we can already hear the arrangement in our minds... unfortunately, it includes a funky bass and a mad percussionist... dammit, can a brother get a rhythm section PLEASE?
Grateful Dead : Scarlet Begonias - yet another crowd favorite. You can hate the Dead all you want, but some of their stuff is just good.
The Wallflowers : 6th Avenue Heartache - the same black line that was drawn on you, was drawn on me, and not it's drawn me in... just like this damned song.

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More Abusive Language

2006-03-14T14:44:00.000-05:00

Summer, she of the Shizzle, posted this comment on my last entry:

I was wondering how to pronounce the first syllable of wopanese. I was thinking it was like whope...
But, then I have no idea what "wop" means.

Well, thank you very much for playing, Summer. You have given me the topic of the day - that ever elusive question that I KNOW is burning in your minds out there....

WHAT IS A WOP?

Wop is a derogatory term for a person of Italian descent. In fact, while we are it, here is a list of various derogatory nicknames for people of various heritage, and some of their supposed origins:

Irish : mick - originates from the nature of Irish names, such as McHenry, McDoogle, MacDonald - the Mc/Mac part means "son of".
Spanish : spic
Puerto Rican : PR
Hispanic person from New York : New Yorican
Mexican : wetback - their backs get wet from swimming across the Rio Grande to get into the US
Chinese : chinks
Korean : yohos, wannabe Japs
Asian people in general : slanteyes, Yellow Horde, chink
Phillipino : flip, PI (in Hawaii), manung (also from Hawaii)
French : frog
German : Kraut - must be from sauerkraut, jerry
Jews : kikes (sp?)
rich Jewish girls living in the US : JAP's (Jewish American Princess)
Italian : Wop - see below for the various origins
Other derogary Italian nicknames : dago, d-nose, spaghetti-head, guinea (a personal favorite of mine)
Japanese : slopehead, Japs
Black : nigger - from negro
Other derogatory Black terms - (this is a long list) : spook, spoolie, spearchucker, jiggaboo, porchmonkey, darkie, moolie (from Italian)
Vietnamese : VC, Charlie
muslin : pull-start - as in the turban - you pull it to start a lawnmower
Indian : dothead, 7-11 employee of the month, push-start
Middle Easterner : sand nigger, camel jockey
Native American : Injun, Redskin
white people : cracker, redneck, honkie (old school!), men who can't dance

The list of the various derogatory names goes on and on - I am sure I am missing several - feel free to throw more in, if you like.

Now, as to the origins of Wop. Let me go into *History Channel mode*

Back in the early 1900's, immigration to the United States was rampant. New York was flooded by people of all sorts and nations coming in search of the now-so-elusive "American Dream". Irish, German, Polish, Italians, and many others, by the thousands. Due to the nature of the Italian government at that time, many Italian immigrants simply got on boats, packed liked sardines, to come over to America... and many, if not most of them, did not have their official immigration paperwork. Because of this, they were given American documents stamped W.O.P. - without official papers - and sent to Ellis Island until they could be properly routed. So there you go. WOP = Without Official Papers.

Speaking of which, Ellis Island has become a memorial of those immigration days - and my family contributed to the Ellis Island fund to have a brick dedicated to my grandfather, who was one of those immigrants who came over on the boat. Not long after the brick was placed for viewing, amongst thousands of others, they went and visited and got a pencil etching of the brick when they located it out of all the many there. It's kind of cool knowing there is a bit of permanence out there attached to your family, although true immortality comes from the spirit, memories, and family, a little edifice with your name on it is kind of sweet, eh?

Now, before you go all uber-liberal on me and tell me how using such derogatory terms is, well, degrading - let me say this - If you cannot laugh at yourself and have other laugh with you, how will we EVER learn to live in peace? If we take everything seriously, how can we ever share a laugh? Stereotypes are not an evil thing in and of themselves - it is when you apply such generalizations to a specific individual that problems happen. Why can't we just all laugh when someone talks about bad Asian women drivers? You've driven behind them... you KNOW what I mean. But my mom doesn't drive that way. Why CAN'T it be funny for black people to eat watermelon? A lot of them do. Is that so bad? Why is it so wrong to say white people can't dance?? It's OBVIOUS it's not true of EVERY white person - Mikhail Barishnikov was white, and he could surely dance. But average joe at the night club is just funny to watch sometimes, no??

If you cannot laugh at these things, then you are more a part of the problem than the solution.

Back to the origins of "Wop"... I was kidding about that WOP story. The true story is somewhat ... dull, to be quite honest - the Immigration story is much better... and funnier. A much smarter man than I, or at least wittier, once said:

"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story."
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Now, Here are a couple of bad Italian jokes:
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Did you hear about the new Italian tires?
(FYI = Dago is pronounced DAY - GO.)
Dago through rain. Dago through snow. Dago through sleet. But when Dago flat, they go "Wop, Wop, Wop".
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Hear that new Italian Helicopter?
It goes "wopwopwopwopwopwopwopwop"
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What sound does an Italian make when you throw him up against the wall?

WOP!
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Thanks! I'll be here all week. Try the veal...
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Me Me Monday #1

2006-03-13T09:42:00.000-05:00

1. Most people call me Wop, including close friends, some of whom do not know my REAL name.

It's true. It all started a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.....

( cue the epic John Williams sountrack)

Okay, well... it was a bit more local then that...

It really all started in Hawaii..

( cue the overdone stock cheesy ukulele muzak)

I was an impressionable youth, quiet and shy, never cussing, full of the spirit and faith, a regular chuch-goer, and member of the church youth choir in the tiny planned residential community of Mililani Town. Before I continue, let me reiterate that I was, indeed, quiet and shy. I know that most of you would hardly believe or accept this fact but it was the God's Honest Truth.

Seriously.

I mean it.

In any event, one day I saw my elder brother sporting this cool yellow t-shirt with this sweet surfing design on it, on the back of which were the prophetic words : "Wopanese Make Better Lovers" in big, bold, capital letters... At the time, I didn't know what to make of it - I was young and naive... innocent, even. I didn't know what "a lover" was. I wasn't quite aware of sex at the time - I was 12 then, okay? And in Hawaii, things seem to move at a bit more of a casual pace out there. There is a reason that the term "Hawaiian Time" exists, okay brah?

Now, fast forward a few years into high school. I took to using the nickname "The Wopanese Kid". Of course, where you put the emphasis changed the meaning... as indicated below:

THE Wopanese Kid - The one and only... which was obviously not entirely true, seeing as how I had three siblings at the time.
The WOPANESE Kid - Putting the emphasis here in order to "confuse the enemy" and pay tribute to my Meditterasian heritage.
The Wopanese Kid - no real emphasis anywhere... my foolish youthful tribute to the rebels of the Wild, Wild West... hey, it worked for Butch and Sundance, right? I mean, all the way up to that little incident with the ENTIRE MEXICAN ARMY.

I even went so far as to have a t-shirt made with that on it. And just so you know, it is pronounced as follows:

Wop - rhymes with POP. NOT Woe-p or Whoop. Wop. As in I'll "pop" a cap in yo ass if you mispronounce my name. I'm Rick James, bitch!
a - as in DUH
nese - exactly like knees... as in the "...the girlies wear their skirts up to their kneeses, and shows us the thing that teases and pleases and gives us diseases, by Jesus..." - or something like that. I don't remember the full toast, but I do know the internet... google rules and sent me HERE where I got this bawdy toast:

Here's to the breezes that blows through the treeses

And lifts the girls skirts up above their kneeses
To show us the things that teases and pleases
And gives us diseases
By Jesus

SCIENTIFIC HYPOTHESIS:
There is something I have noticed about most people: they have a much, MUCH simpler time remembering names of only 1 or 2 syllables. You get to 3 and people oft forget your name. I wonder if any scientific study has been done to show the correlation? In any event, most people, rather than calling me Wopanese, which was far too long and unwieldy for everyday conversation, chose to call me Wop. Wop as a name has several advantages over my real name, a VERY common 3-syllable Italian name

Wop is nice, short, sweet, and to the point. This is, of course, completely in contradiction to me, especially the part about being to the point, as if you hadn't noticed...
Drunk people love, and I mean LOVE, to say Wop... When I meet people, and they are drunk, and I tell them I go by "Wop", they usually burst out into laughter... and then they say, "Wooooooo-p! Wop wop wop! Dude, that's f**king GREAT!"
Wop is EASY to remember
Wop is not likely to be anyone else's nickname, especially not if he's Italian. Most northerners, and by that I mean the "Civil War North", as in the Northeastern US. That would be Maryland and north thereof, Ohio and West there of (and maybe Chicago). They know what Wop means - and it's not a nice thing to call an Italian, mmkay? Most everyone else has no clue... unless they know, or have been to, "the North"
It's only 1 syllable, unlike my 3 syllable, obviously Italian, real first name. In fact, my whole name is overtly Italian, if Americanized somewhat in spelling... somewhat.

In high school, I never really paid it much attention - everyone knew me as "Wop" and it was easy to get in touch with people. I knew everyone who knew everyone and everyone had everyone else's number and we all knew where our friends lived so it was never really an issue.

And then I went off to college. After a couple of years, I decided to join a fraternity...
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more details tomorrow when I have more time
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2006-03-10T17:01:00.000-05:00

Nothing Special To Report

Nothing happened of much note within my localize area so I really have nothing new to write about.

You know, I've read a lot of blogs that have an entry similar to the above. I have to wonder why this happens. I know that we are all thinking something... maybe we just don't feel they are worth writing about, or perhaps, READING about. Lucky for you people, in general, I'll go ahead and write it anyway, simply because, whether or not my crap is worth reading or not.

Which makes me wonder... crap reading. I've heard of reading tea leaves and tossing bones... they seem so unrelated to an individual. Now, phrenology... is that not the reading of the bumps on someone's noggin'? So, if I think the reading sucks... does that mean I can simply go bash my head with a bat to improve my future? That would be a BASEBALL bat - do you take me for some kind of Ozzy wannabe?

That reminds me of days gone by in high school. For some reason, these cats in my classes - a certain group of disreputable cretins (ahh, a chance to use that word!) decided that I looked like Ozzy Osbourne - no, not the barely comprehendible, painpill poppin, semi-invalid near-ex-rocker that he is now - no, that was YEARS AGO, when Ozzy was in his prime partying years - he could do more than hop 3 inches at a show... it was also when he had that incident with the bat.. or live chicken... or something.

Anyways, they decided to call me Ozzy... for months. I don't get it - I didn't really look the part. Well, except for maybe the hair - it was more Ramones than Black Sabbath, but okay - whatever floated their boat, as it were.

Anyway, about bashing my own head with a bat. See, that would produce a different lump structure, right - and in this sad theory, a different reading for my future. Right? Are you with me here? Well, that seems a bit counterproductive, of course... maybe my future will simply be better because, hopefully by then, the headache and skull injury I may have inflicted upon myself will have healed and the pains will go away... right? Likely a self-fulfilling prophecy then, eh?

Read lumps
Lumps say bad things coming.
Bash skull to improve reading
Ouch. That hurt.
Wait months for skull fractures to heal
Gee, that sucked.
Viola, the reading was accurate.

So, back to crap reading... and reading crap. I know people keep coming up with new "ways of reading the future" and one has to gather that psychic energy is bound up in the things we keep upon us, right? I mean, moreso than some tea leaves we never touched, or some bones from someone ELSE's relatives tossed by some voodoo priestess... right? So I just wondered if someone does psychic scatography?? I know, I'm not right. That's disgusting.

Yep. It sure is. Then again, I never said I was right in the head, did I? I certainly wouldn't put such a silly label as that upon myself. So with all that in mind...

If bumps on the head can indicate your future, do zits on your face not count? Just curious. Just asking little questions. I mean, what if you had an ingrown hair up there? And why on the skull? Why not on the back area... or the chest? Would this then lead to nipple-reading? They are all different, after all. They vary in size and shape in an astounding number of ways... and some, ooh, have hairs... and some don't... although, I begin to believe that some people actually PLUCK them.

You know, I once dated this... oh, never mind.

So what is the big thing with armpit hair, anyway? I know that modern society, in America especially, frowns upon hair in almost any form on a woman except her head and in her, ooh, nether regions. Shaved legs. Brazilian waxing, wow. That just sounds like a painful proposition, although some people claim it gets a lot easier if you do it more often. Hmmm. I wonder if it would work on me. No, really. Shaved armpits. You know, it's not like I'm going to stuff my face in there and lick... well, okay, MAYBE I would - I'm not going to say as this is not one of THOSE kinds of blogs.

Speaking of which, there is apparently a giant community of THOSE kinds of blogs. I suppose this is just one more extension of erotica into the net - you know, at last estimate, 90% of the traffic across the net is for porn. Maybe it was 95%. It was an astoundingly large number, to be honest. I sometimes wonder at that number until I get home and check out my email. Someone borrowed my pc once (SUUUURE, Wop, SUUUURE!!) and the next thing you know, I'm getting 200+ emails a day from various porn and related sites. Hey, at least I know where I can get some pills to ".. maximize my manhood" so I can ".. satisft ANY woman" and have more "... staying power" and have "... an erection all weekend long"...

You know, I'm not entirely certain that I would WANT an erection for a whole weekend. I mean, aside from the obvious medical risk - bad things can happen when you get a woody for days on end, so I've read - it sure does make getting dressed difficult. Zippers become the enemy. And you can't just wear ANYTHING, unless you don't mind being called "that guy with the boner".

Does anyone else, and by anyone else I mean any other guys, recall getting that unintentional spontaneous erection in school? Sure, they make fun of it in just about ANY show that has teenage males in it, usually in that tired-ass same way - covering it up with the notebook, not wanting to get up in front of the class, etc... Well, someone I know, and I won't admit it to being me, actually got up in class once, hips thrust forward to make SURE it was noticed, to go to the blackboard, proudly displaying the waterworks for all to note... or at least to say, "Here is a tent." But it wasn't me. No, really. It wasn't. (Like I said, I admit to nothing.)

So, there you go... as I stated above, I pretty much have nothing of import to say today. So have a great weekend!

Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 7c

2006-03-09T12:43:00.000-05:00

So I walked into the diner...

The door was in the middle of the long glass wall of the diner. To my right, at the far end of the bar, an elderly couple sat in a booth, sharing some late afternoon chit chat over coffee. They both looked up when I entered and I received a double-barrel glare of "what the hell is this strange Mexican doing in our diner" before they returned to their conversation, now with an apparent new topic. Just to my left sat a pair of women in a booth against the bar, having an animated discussion, most likely the newest gossip about Billy Bob or Bobbie Sue, sitting facing one another. It was evident that at least one of them was a mother, if not both, as there were 3 young children sitting the next booth past them, the youngest, a small girl, perhaps 4 years of age, and the oldest, a boy, not likely more than 7 or 8.

As soon as I set foot through that diner door, that boys eyes locked onto me as if he were a roach and I was a D-Con Roach Motel. He had been animatedly talking until his eyes caught mine... as soon as they did, his mouth simply stopped moving, leaving it somewhat agape, and his eyes grew to the size of tea coasters. I took a quick inventory of myself to make sure nothing was entirely amiss with my outfit.

Pants - on. Check. Polo shirt - unbuttoned but unstained. Check. Shoes - untied but on. Check. Fly - closed. Check.

I had carried my backpack in with me to go over some notes from the job I had just completed and to work on a poem and I casually shifted its heavy weight higher up my shoulder with the standard "toss and shrug" maneuver.

The boys eyes never left me.

I walked calmly past the moms and past the children, my destination being a window booth towards the far end of the diner.

The boys eyes never left me. They blinked once as I walked past him. His head tilted up and he shifted his body and turned around as I continued past him. He turned completely around in the booth to stare at me, his eyes flicked over to look at my long, dark hair, and then back at my face as I proceeded down the aisleway.

His eyes blinked again in disbelief. His mouth was still open in the basic "oh my Gawd" expression.

I turned and tossed my heavy backpack into the booth seat facing the moms and the kids and "Stare" boy. He just kept on a-lookin'.

I then gave him what I will admit to have been an irritated glare at his unbroken staring. It didn't faze him in the least. Nope. He just kept on gawking at me.

And as I started to sidle in to sit down, the boy slowly raised his right hand up, as if to take the oath of office, palm facing me...

and he continued to stare...

and quite seriously, he uttered a single word to me.

"How"
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Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 7b

2006-03-07T15:19:00.000-05:00

The inside of the diner was populated by just a few customers, one waitress, and a cook. There was a long counter where patrons could eat, as well as a number of booths on either side of the counter and a few along the window. The far end of the counter curved and there were a few more booths at that one end. All in all, the layout was none too different from many a Waffle House I have been too, and having been to a few, I would dare say that I am an unfortunate expert in these places.

Waffle Houses are notorious in this area, the South, if for one reason alone - there is almost nowhere else you can go at 2:30 in the morning and get yourself a bite to eat. Not so coincidentally, that is shortly after the time when the typical barfly and lounge lizard have been removed from the premises of their favorite watering holes (aka meat markets) and have suddenly found themselves with nothing better to do... and hunger for some form of consumable materials with which to soak up the various flavors of alcohol that had been ingested earlier in the evening, now morning.

There are OTHER options, to be sure. There's always Denny's. Yes, yes, yes, I can hear the sounds of disagreement on what constitutes food... believe you me, whether or not Denny's counts as a food provider has been a topic of conversation I have had before, with other people, in other places, in distant lands... suffice it to say that they do put a substance upon a platter, serve it to you with dining utensils, and that substance can, indeed, be put upon the end of fork or spoon (or spork, if you stole one from KFC), placed in the mouth, chewed, and swallowed, much like food. But I am not here to debate the theories of what is and is NOT food. That is for people better than I to discuss. Let us simply agree that Denny's CAN, in fact, be used as a replacement for a 2:30am visit to the Waffle House.

There are also various and sundry local establishments, of varying quality, for the drunk and hungry, that are open at that magical hour. In Chesterfield County, there is a place known as the Chesterfield Diner. Let me describe it with one simple word.

NO.

In downtown Richmond, the 3rd Street Diner will serve you food with 'tude, if not flat out rude. Of course, part of that simply may be the natural bearing of the many hottie goth chicks that work there - I'm certain the many nights of experiencing drunks of all types and sizes, from goths to bikers to preps to fraternity boys to businessmen (AND women), have left them with very little to no reason to be kinder than they are. Still, it always makes me wonder how much of the juice on that philly steak is REALLY steak juice. I mean, you KNOW how bad people in restaurants can get you back, right?

Just a block over is 4th Street... and that place, well... the food is great. Really. Sometimes it depends on who is working that night, but overall the food simply tastes better. They also have, flat out, the best fries in all of Richmond - and this is coming from a french fry connoisseur. You can trust me on this one. They simply have the best Boardwalk Fries you can get in town.

Unfortunately for me, I am usually on the other side of the county/city from 4th Street... but I still make the occasional visit to the mecca of edible tubers.

And that's all my time for today... Very soon, you will see what I saw in that diner...
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yes, I do suck terribly, don't I?
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Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 7a

2006-03-06T11:12:00.000-05:00

... now then, where was I?

Ahh, yes. Moncks Corner. Again.

First, let me describe myself in general, for those of you not "in the know". I'm of about average height... whatever THAT means - it seems 6' is average for the USA, but the world average is only 5'8" - I'm guessing 1.2 billion Chinese bring that number down quite a bit all on their own. I am also somewhat stockily built, with broad shoulders. This is good, cause it helps keep me from looking like a barrel. I have a somewhat permanent olive/tan to my skin - inherited from both the ruddy Italian side AND the olive of my Japanese mother. Considering it was late Spring, I had actually gotten some sun, so at the time of this tale, I had a decent tan.

On a side note, I have been blessed (or cursed) with skin that tans readily... and it usually annoys the women I date, who often spend weeks trying to build up a tan that I usually get in the course of an afternoon. A few years ago I went to Bonnaroo with my then fiancee', A**, and one of her best friends, a cool cat named M**, his fiancee', K**, and a couple of M**'s friends. Hey, here's a question: why is the spelling different for male-fiance' or female-fiancee' ?? The damnable French - just have to complicate things, don't they, with their Fronch Fries and Fronch Bread and Fronch Dressing and that Peru mineral water?

Anyway, that Friday was sunny - a practically weather-perfect day, by most accounts. (Which says NOTHING about the weather we had the rest of the weekend... can you say, "Mudslides, Uncle Wop" ?) I took my shirt off so I could catch some rays - having been cooped up for most of winter and Spring in the office had done me no favors, skintone-wise. Well, A** and K** both offered me sunscreen cause they were already getting toasty from the 30 minutes they'd been up and about.... it was a pretty brutal sun, I will admit, but I declined. M*** threw some on and M**'s friends? Well, they definitely needed it, as fair-skinned as they were. They kept offering that sunscreen, warning me I'd burn... for the next several hours. And I went sans shirt and sans sunscreen... and got darker and darker.... They got more and more annoyed the darker I got... and nary a burn. A** got some burn on her shoulders even WITH the sunscreen. She said, and I quote, "You're very annoying." Oh well, sorry, ladies - I don't do it on purpose... I gotta love that set of genes.

Now then, rewinding back to the time of the Moncks Corner torture, I had what I would call a medium-large build. No, really. I hadn't yet had the time to experiment with the thing called GIRTH. Unfortunately, it seems I was a bit TOO successful in THAT experiment in the years since then, for my own personal tastes, at the very least. Suffice it to say that I am now experimenting with this thing called EXERCISE. It's a novel thing. Perhaps I will try to market it out and see if there is a business model that can succeed through this foreign EXERCISE thing... Has anyone out there had any success with this foreign creature?

so black it's blue hair

Anyway, I also had long dark hair at the time, not quite so long as it is now, but still far longer than the average mullet. At this point, it was an ex-mullet that was growing out. And it was unfortunately NOT black-blue - I often wish it were. Not for me, though - I just have really dark brown hair - looks black when it's wet, but it's just brown. Dammit. Yep, only my eldest brother got THAT color...

of course, he also got the curly from the Italian side - it would get so thick that if he let it go too long, his head would be mushroom-shaped.... we sometimes called it the "Atomic Bomb hairdo" or the "Nuclear Explosion Look" - hey, we're children of the Cold War, go figure. I'll take the brown straight hair over the Nuke Look. Lastly, I also have eyes that hint at a foreign parentage, obviously from the mom.

This will all be important at some point, to be sure.

Now, where was I again? Ahh, that's right, I had just opened the doors and stepped in...
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2006-03-02T10:41:00.000-05:00

'Scuse the Interruption

Let me be the first one to say that I am not the neatest person in the world. My cube is sometimes (often) a wreck, my basement is in a perpetual state of "I'm still moving stuff around"-ism, and when the laundry hamper is not available... well, let's just say the world IS my hamper. (I AM housebroken and hamper-broken, however - I do use them, you know, when they're there.)

Now, that having been said, let's talk about office restroom etiquette.

Here are some big-time, BIG-TIME no-no's (particularly geared for the small office environment):

You do NOT leave the toilet paper roll on there with NO paper on it... and for these purposes, 5 or 10 sheets rolled around the roll in a clever fashion to make it LOOK like there is more paper is NOT acceptable
If the paper is almost gone, bring another roll into the john. I mean, come on - in our small office, it's a 50 foot walk to get more paper.
Don't piss on the toilet seat. You're not at home. What you do at home with your own bathroom is your OWN business. Here? You're sharing. And for this small office, if we have customers here, how do you think they'll react to a piss-stained toilet seat?
Let me reiterate the piss on seat rule. Damn. Lift the freaking toilet seat if you're gonna take a leak.
Shit on the seat? You BETTER clean it up - and I don't mean just wipe it off. How about some soap or lysol there, good buddy? And why the hell are you crapping on the seat for, anyway? Were you raised by bears or something? How about you buy some DEPENDS then, eh?
If I repeated the piss thing twice, then I DEFINITELY have to repeat the poorly aimed stool thing here. I'm still trying to figure out how that happened... are you trying to do the hover maneuver? Damn.
Leaving behind an... aroma (and you probably are)? How about using some of that air freshener? And leave the friggin' fan ON - what do you think? The smell just walks away on its own? Well, yes it does - right into the rest of damn office. Thanks. Just what I wanted to SMELL before lunch. Thanks a lot!
And, really, if you're doing ANYTHING that MIGHT leave a fragrance... do that spray. Regardless of what you may believe, your farts and your crap do NOT smell like "little puffs of lavender". You are NOT a walking Febreze bottle and you were NOT inflated with Glade Air-Freshener on the day you were born. Your ass is as a good a place as any for a StickUp, I don't care WHO you are.
If it's a "big-un", please make sure it ALL goes away. Flush twice. Especially if you're putting down more mortar than bricks, okay? And clean it up. I mean, everyone blows out their ASS-GASKET from time to time, but I don't want to have to suffer with you, alright? I can feel bad for you, just don't make me feel bad BECAUSE OF you.
Pubes. Great when attached. Funny little name, pubes. Annoying when caught in teeth or the throat. Just plain rude when left on the seat.

Well, I'm sure there are plenty more rules I could throw down there, but these are the ones most prominently in mind - probably because some asshat in this office doesn't seem to understand these basic principles on a regular basis. I mean, it's a simple thing of being considerate.... does this make me an evil "prima donna" for wanting the restroom to at least be presentable and NOT look like the indoor outhouse of a Waffle House at 2:30am (when the drunk crowd has rolled in from all the bars) ??

Is that so much to ask?

Is it?
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Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 6

2006-02-28T14:10:00.000-05:00

Breakfast
it's what's for dinner

Work the next day was quick and uneventful. My job was done and the supervisor signed off on it so I was free to drive home. The day was also entirely without food - I was in such a rush to get out to the shop that I completely skipped the continental breakfast -bye bye strawberry yogurt and bagels with cream cheese. I also skipped lunch entirely because I was right in the middle of a problem at the time, and right on the verge of getting done... or so I had thought - no sloppy joes for me. But, hey, I was done, I had per diem, and I was hungry...

In other places, other cities or even large towns, this isn't a problem. But in Moncks Corner, well... this was a dangerous combination.

I left the shop and stopped off at this little local "Waffle-House wannabe" joint. I think it may have actually BEEN a Waffle House at one point but it was now just a local diner.

Which begs the question - how far down do you have to get to be a Waffle House WANNABE?

The stomach having obviously won the argument with my brain over whether or not it looked "safe enough" to eat in, I pulled up into the dirt and gravel... well, mostly dirt, parking lot and got out of my car with trepidation in my heart and ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in my stomach. I opened the glass doors and walked in to the diner...

Moncks Corner's Revenge - Part 5

2006-02-27T10:47:00.000-05:00

Now, don't get me wrong. The people of Moncks Corner, for the most part (as you will see later), are fine folk. The town is a nice, quiet town, if just a bit backwater. It actually reminds me of the closing number from the South Park : Bigger, Longer, and Uncut movie, one of the finest musicals ever made:

Mountain Town Reprise

Chef:
. Everything worked out. What a happy end!
. Americans and Canadians are friends again.
. So let's all join hands and knock oppression down!
Choir:
. Good Lordy, I'm found!
The boys:
. Don't you know our little lives are now complete?
The moms:
. 'Cause Terrance and Phillip are sweet.
Sheila:
. Super sweet!
All:
. Thank God we live in this quiet, little, pissant, redneck, podunk, jerkwater, greenhorn, one-horse,
. mud-hole, peckerwood, right-wing, whistle-stop, hobmail, truck-drivin', old-fashioned, hayseed,
. inbred, unkempt, out-of-date, out-of-touch, white-trash..
The boys:
. Kick-ass!
All:
. Moun - tain town!

So, having made my disclaimer, let me continue with the tale...

I worked all day, setting up their software and fixing what was wrong. That first day went by like a charm and the shop supervisor was pleased. There was much rejoicing. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, one of the contacts from my home office had also told him that I was a pool-player. This much was true. I played in both an 8-ball and 9-ball league back in Richmond, and while I was no championship caliber player, I could hold my own against most people - I even had the occasional win against said type of competition, so I wasn't a total slouch. It turned out that the supervisor at the customer shop also liked to shoot pool a lot so he invited me for a few beers and a few racks at a local bar.

Now, let me explain something about Blue Laws to those of you not from the Bible Belt area. Blue Laws are basically a hold over from the overly-puritanical days of the colonies, and they are found in fair quantities in the Bible Belt... hence the name. The most noted of these laws are:

no working on Sunday - you know, at first glance this looks like a good thing... but picture this - if there is NO working on Sunday, that means no grocery store, gas station, bar, restaurant, or even a movie theater can be open. This is good for forcing community building by making church about the only social activity going on, but it can be a real pain in the ass come football (and beer) season.
no public alcohol sales - nuff said

Now in the greater area of South Carolina, the Blue Laws results in a few surprising results:

No alcohol sales on Sunday
No alcohol sales from grocery stores - this includes beer and wine.
they can't sell liquor in any bottle larger than just a few ounces. This means that the ABC/liquor store can only sell those tiny little bottles you find on airplanes or in hotel wet bars. This INCLUDES bars. Go check it out - it's weird watching bartenders in action down there. Click the picture for the story... seriously
In many locations, since bars are ILLEGAL, some places have "clubs" - when you are a member of a club, you can then buy alcohol beverages. So if you go to a bar, in order to buy a drink, you have to become a member. Period. Is that weird or what?

So, in order for me to just have a few beers and shoot pool with my newfound pool buddy, I had to go and fill out a club membership form and pay 5 bucks (which he paid for me - thanks, man!) to join. Once I did that, I could buy all the beer I wanted. Some places in South Carolina have, obviously, overturned these laws - mostly in the larger cities (of which there are a whole 2 in South Carolina) and the beach area, where they want their tourist trade to thrive with drunk visitors... like in Myrtle Beach.

Now then, the joint we went to was a single building establishment with a few pool tables and a bar - and they served beer in the can. Yep, classy. But we had a good enough time shooting pool and shootin the shit, as it were, but I couldn't escape the feeling that at least half that county was pointing their fingers at me and shouting "SINNER!!!"

Ah well, and so I crashed that night in the motel, ready for work the next day...
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