It's easy when you have so much in common.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Apple And The Tree
Enjoying a little "Father/Son" time.
It's easy when you have so much in common.
It's easy when you have so much in common.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Paris Is Not Free! All Hope Is Lost! (at least for 37 more days)
This post is a follow up to my last post, “Paris Is Free!!!”, and will make better sense if you read that one first.
In my ongoing revelry and celebration I failed to notice the updates of Paris Hilton’s legal situation. Her unjustified abuse continues as she has been re-sentenced to serve the rest of her 45 day prison sentence. Just when my tender heart had regained a speck of hope, that hope was dashed to pieces by the malicious gavel of a vindictive judge. Shame on you your honor. And shame on us all for allowing it.
Despite the heavy amounts of injustice continually pressed upon her, Paris continues to inspire all with her courage, fortitude, and selflessness. Of her plight she has said, “I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things, like my movies, TV shows, and other hot stuff I do.” Gratefully we have been assured that “A guard is monitoring her at all times to ensure there isn't anything harmful done to herself by herself." The statement is reassuring but the effort unnecessary as Paris would never bring harm to herself since she has been taught since birth of her important role in society and has learned to put her safety, wellbeing, and happiness above all others.
My heart is low this day and I have not the strength to write further.
In my ongoing revelry and celebration I failed to notice the updates of Paris Hilton’s legal situation. Her unjustified abuse continues as she has been re-sentenced to serve the rest of her 45 day prison sentence. Just when my tender heart had regained a speck of hope, that hope was dashed to pieces by the malicious gavel of a vindictive judge. Shame on you your honor. And shame on us all for allowing it.
Despite the heavy amounts of injustice continually pressed upon her, Paris continues to inspire all with her courage, fortitude, and selflessness. Of her plight she has said, “I would hope going forward that the public and the media will focus on more important things, like my movies, TV shows, and other hot stuff I do.” Gratefully we have been assured that “A guard is monitoring her at all times to ensure there isn't anything harmful done to herself by herself." The statement is reassuring but the effort unnecessary as Paris would never bring harm to herself since she has been taught since birth of her important role in society and has learned to put her safety, wellbeing, and happiness above all others.
My heart is low this day and I have not the strength to write further.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
PARIS IS FREE!!!
Never has this headline meant so much. Not even when it was used to herald the liberation of Paris, France in August of 1944, or all the other times France was saved by some foreign nation.
I know this column is a little late, but you’ll have to excuse me. One of the reasons I have not posted anything as of late is because I have been so tied up in the goings on and recent release of Paris Hilton.
It is hard for me to express in words how important this event is but let me say that just when I thought the moral sun was permanently setting on the horizon of our collective ethos, the American judicial system has given us a shining sliver of hope. For a time I was convinced our great country was on the brink of godless anarchy. When a pillar of our extended community and archetype of goodness like Paris Hilton is convicted of something as trivial as driving under the influence or driving with a suspended license or shooting a homeless person I can’t help but feel that we are a society very nearly beyond Thunder Dome.
When, might I ask, did government get so big, bureaucracy laden, and audaciously pompous as to think they could torment one of our Founding Sisters, especially for something as trivial as driving with a suspended license? (If you are unfamiliar with the Founding Sisters let me mention a few prominent members; Lindsey Lohan, Nicole Ritchie, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, and Britney Spears, just to name a few.) Also, who, I’d like to know, doesn’t drive under the influence or on a suspended license? I’ve personally killed 27 homeless persons while driving under the influence on a suspended license. I don’t remember the last time I did drive sober or with a license. Sober driving, hmmph. Boooooooriiiing. I digress.
Though I was shocked at the close-mindedness of Paris Hilton’s judge, I was most saddened to hear in the news that she was being used by the system to make an example. What some people in our judicial system don’t understand is that there are those in society who have achieved a level of entitlement that is not afforded to others, or “normies” as I like to call them. You see, Paris Hilton is no mere citizen of America, bound by the same laws, restrictions, tax codes, and social proprieties that you and I are bound by. She is America damnit! She’s the Trend Setter; the sleeveless, rib exposing, pattern dress wearing guru of what is HOT and what is NOT! Aside from her enormous contributions made in politics, the sciences, and humanitarian aid, she has done more for modern TV and movie entertainment than any other actor, ever. A snippet of her biography should illustrate my point: The Simple Life, Bottoms Up, House of Wax, The Hillz, Wonderland, Nine Lives. (And those were just some of the movies she knew she was acting in.) She’s not in the media. She is the media! And they treated her like some common, poor, non-white girl who wasn't an heiress to a hotel chain fortune.
Let me conclude by saying that just because she was released early does not excuse the fact that she was ever troubled, let alone convicted, in the first place. Together we can stop the moral slippage of our time by remembering Paris and the hardships she has endured and making sure that it never happens again.
Welcome back Ms. Hilton. Please except our most sincere apologies.
I know this column is a little late, but you’ll have to excuse me. One of the reasons I have not posted anything as of late is because I have been so tied up in the goings on and recent release of Paris Hilton.
It is hard for me to express in words how important this event is but let me say that just when I thought the moral sun was permanently setting on the horizon of our collective ethos, the American judicial system has given us a shining sliver of hope. For a time I was convinced our great country was on the brink of godless anarchy. When a pillar of our extended community and archetype of goodness like Paris Hilton is convicted of something as trivial as driving under the influence or driving with a suspended license or shooting a homeless person I can’t help but feel that we are a society very nearly beyond Thunder Dome.
When, might I ask, did government get so big, bureaucracy laden, and audaciously pompous as to think they could torment one of our Founding Sisters, especially for something as trivial as driving with a suspended license? (If you are unfamiliar with the Founding Sisters let me mention a few prominent members; Lindsey Lohan, Nicole Ritchie, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, and Britney Spears, just to name a few.) Also, who, I’d like to know, doesn’t drive under the influence or on a suspended license? I’ve personally killed 27 homeless persons while driving under the influence on a suspended license. I don’t remember the last time I did drive sober or with a license. Sober driving, hmmph. Boooooooriiiing. I digress.
Though I was shocked at the close-mindedness of Paris Hilton’s judge, I was most saddened to hear in the news that she was being used by the system to make an example. What some people in our judicial system don’t understand is that there are those in society who have achieved a level of entitlement that is not afforded to others, or “normies” as I like to call them. You see, Paris Hilton is no mere citizen of America, bound by the same laws, restrictions, tax codes, and social proprieties that you and I are bound by. She is America damnit! She’s the Trend Setter; the sleeveless, rib exposing, pattern dress wearing guru of what is HOT and what is NOT! Aside from her enormous contributions made in politics, the sciences, and humanitarian aid, she has done more for modern TV and movie entertainment than any other actor, ever. A snippet of her biography should illustrate my point: The Simple Life, Bottoms Up, House of Wax, The Hillz, Wonderland, Nine Lives. (And those were just some of the movies she knew she was acting in.) She’s not in the media. She is the media! And they treated her like some common, poor, non-white girl who wasn't an heiress to a hotel chain fortune.
Let me conclude by saying that just because she was released early does not excuse the fact that she was ever troubled, let alone convicted, in the first place. Together we can stop the moral slippage of our time by remembering Paris and the hardships she has endured and making sure that it never happens again.
Welcome back Ms. Hilton. Please except our most sincere apologies.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Noteworthy Encounter
Recently, while on the road performing and promoting my band at a convention, I was checking into a Motel 6 for the night. Unwittingly, I forgot to remove a name badge I was wearing that, along with my name, included some other info. Included in that info was the word "comedy." The following exchange I had with Kevin, the desk clerk, is true and as accurate as I can remember.
Kevin: "So you're a comedian?"
(Note: I consider myself more of a musician than a comedian. But to avoid having to explain my nametag I said;)
Me: "Well, sort of."
Kevin: "You know what’s awesome about comedians? They get their material from real life experiences."
Me: (Smiling politely at his astute observation) "I guess so."
Kevin: "They can even get material from lame encounters and stupid conversations."
That said, I'd like to dedicate this blog to Kevin.
Kevin: "So you're a comedian?"
(Note: I consider myself more of a musician than a comedian. But to avoid having to explain my nametag I said;)
Me: "Well, sort of."
Kevin: "You know what’s awesome about comedians? They get their material from real life experiences."
Me: (Smiling politely at his astute observation) "I guess so."
Kevin: "They can even get material from lame encounters and stupid conversations."
That said, I'd like to dedicate this blog to Kevin.
Friday, May 25, 2007
No P.C. in Munchkin Land
Even though I’ll be middle aged (30) in one month I still find it a real treat to see a midget in public. For me it holds the same kind of novelty as going to the circus as a youngster, or spotting a leprechaun in the wild. (The latter especially since the leprechaun, Midgetous Gaelicious, is a close cousin to our native breed, the Midgetous Americana.) I have to admit, however, that as their numbers multiply and more and more of them are becoming comfortable moving about in regular society that the novelty is wearing off. Pretty soon a midget eyewitness encounter will be as commonplace as seeing pigeons in a park. In fact, I predict that within 30 to 50 years, they will be living and working right along side regular people with the same rights and opportunities as everyone else. And all their amazing intrigue and uniqueness will be forgotten and left by the wayside, like the luck dragon. They will be counted as just another casualty of the war waged under the banner of “Political Correctness.”
There is a contingent among us that is attempting to quail all that is special and beautiful and funny to look at. They, the PC Brigade, will not be happy till all is the same; a pasty blandness that sits on the observational palette tasteless and to be swallowed in one dry, vapid lump. Shame on them for attempting to strip midgets of their midget-ness. One can only assume that the Brigade is jealous of this uniqueness. They must be so ordinary that everywhere they witness the extraordinary, they work to remove the “extra” as to not feel inadequate. So what if you can save thousands by shopping at Baby Gap, or order off the kids menu, or play in the ball pool at Chucky Cheese, or chase rodents down small holes for sport. If you can’t do those things then you just have to find what does make you special and capitalize on them.
I decided to write this piece because I recently heard that the PC Brigade has even gone as far as to try and strip midgets of their name. They are now pushing to make them known as “little people.” I hope you are as shocked as I was. I’m confused. (No surprise, since mass confusion is often the goal of such immoral paradigm shift attempts.) We used to call children “little people.” Pretty soon they’ll be saying “brilliant child” is the proper term for midgets.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Jeff, he’s a brilliant child. That’s him over there with some other children. He’s the brilliant one… with the big head.”
I’m here to argue that this movement can only end badly. Have we learned nothing from history? We tried to assimilate the American Indian and we’re still paying for that mistake. I say free the American Midget. Reintroduce it into the wild, it’s native habitat, and pray that our attempt to juice-style blend all of Gods creatures into one homogeneous population hasn’t left irreversible damage on it.
United we stand… some taller than others.
There is a contingent among us that is attempting to quail all that is special and beautiful and funny to look at. They, the PC Brigade, will not be happy till all is the same; a pasty blandness that sits on the observational palette tasteless and to be swallowed in one dry, vapid lump. Shame on them for attempting to strip midgets of their midget-ness. One can only assume that the Brigade is jealous of this uniqueness. They must be so ordinary that everywhere they witness the extraordinary, they work to remove the “extra” as to not feel inadequate. So what if you can save thousands by shopping at Baby Gap, or order off the kids menu, or play in the ball pool at Chucky Cheese, or chase rodents down small holes for sport. If you can’t do those things then you just have to find what does make you special and capitalize on them.
I decided to write this piece because I recently heard that the PC Brigade has even gone as far as to try and strip midgets of their name. They are now pushing to make them known as “little people.” I hope you are as shocked as I was. I’m confused. (No surprise, since mass confusion is often the goal of such immoral paradigm shift attempts.) We used to call children “little people.” Pretty soon they’ll be saying “brilliant child” is the proper term for midgets.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Jeff, he’s a brilliant child. That’s him over there with some other children. He’s the brilliant one… with the big head.”
I’m here to argue that this movement can only end badly. Have we learned nothing from history? We tried to assimilate the American Indian and we’re still paying for that mistake. I say free the American Midget. Reintroduce it into the wild, it’s native habitat, and pray that our attempt to juice-style blend all of Gods creatures into one homogeneous population hasn’t left irreversible damage on it.
United we stand… some taller than others.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Signs Your Wife Is Jealous Of Your Guitar
She wears earrings that look like tuning keys.
On your kitchen table you find an invoice from a private investigator and a manila folder full of black and white pictures of you and the guitar.
She likes to suggest hobby alternatives like drugs or alcohol.
In an effort to regain your attention she buys a G-string and an E, B, D, and A string to wear as lingerie.
She knows what every pawnshop in town is willing to give for it.
She spends an inordinate amount of time in an internet chat room conversing with a guy named “Mr. Banjo.”
She ends heated arguments with a crude gesture and the order to “STRUM THIS!”
When your high school girlfriend called to catch up, she took the kids outside to give you some alone time.
She refers to it as “The One Legged Whore.”
On your kitchen table you find an invoice from a private investigator and a manila folder full of black and white pictures of you and the guitar.
She likes to suggest hobby alternatives like drugs or alcohol.
In an effort to regain your attention she buys a G-string and an E, B, D, and A string to wear as lingerie.
She knows what every pawnshop in town is willing to give for it.
She spends an inordinate amount of time in an internet chat room conversing with a guy named “Mr. Banjo.”
She ends heated arguments with a crude gesture and the order to “STRUM THIS!”
When your high school girlfriend called to catch up, she took the kids outside to give you some alone time.
She refers to it as “The One Legged Whore.”
Monday, April 30, 2007
The Animal Within
Somehow I’m getting cable at my house. I'm not paying for it but it's coming through. The angel inside of me wants to call the cable company and come clean. But the pirate inside of me ran the angel through with his blade. Now, the pirate and I sit back, with feet up, and watch all kinds of nonsense while our bodies atrophy away to a soft pudge. Of all my new-found television interests one of the programs I’ve really learned to enjoy is UFC (Ultimate Fighting Challenge) broadcasts. I think the UFC is entertaining for the same reason programs like WWE, When Animals Attack, and Americas Funniest Videos are entertaining. Because is satisfies a deep seeded blood lust that has been buried under layers of hundreds of years of “civilization.” We may wear a suit and tie and work nine to five and buy our meat pre-wrapped but some ancient part of our nature still wants to hunt, battle, kill, and feel like a predator now and then.
(Side note: I think “Americas Funniest Videos” should be called “Taking it in the Crotch” since every other shot is some poor schmuck getting whacked in the hobbits by his own child or some piece of sports paraphernalia.)
I digress.
I don't know if this feeling is common among men, but as I sit there, bowl of Lucky Charms in hand, milk on my chin, watching these modern day gladiators, I can't help but think, "I could do that." You're probably thinking I'm a naive egomaniac, but bare with me. I figure you've only got to be able to do two things. First, you've got to be able to move fast; speed. This I've got in spades. Sometimes when I'm shadowboxing with myself in the mirror, and my hands start moving with the fury of a class five hurricane, I lose track of them and I almost knock myself out. Also, sometimes when I'm River Dancing, I do an Irish kick so hard that the momentum takes the other leg off the ground and I land on my back. That's the kind of speed I'm talking about. Other than speed you've got to be able to take a hit. This also should not be a problem. And let me tell you why. During my freshman year of high school I once took a flying discus to the temple and walked away without even a concussion. Another time, while riding motorbikes with my brothers, I took a diving header over the handlebars sans helmet. At the end of my flight my cranium head-butted a 20 pound rock. The result; I got six stitches in my crown but the rock got split like a melon. My head is the perfect target for heavy blows.
Now, the physical part of it aside, I do think I would have a hard time with the mental aspect of cage fighting. My whole life I have been more of a lover than a fighter. But to cage fight you have to be willing and able to put the hurt on anyone who steps into the ring with you, and I just don't think I have that mental "kill switch" that you need to survive in there. I have to really dislike a person to put the kybosh on them. So, all although I have all the makings of a killing machine, you will probably just get a nod and a polite hello should we pass on the street. But just a word of warning; should you try and hit me in the head with a discus; oh man, Heaven help you. Because once the "River-Dancer" comes out. There's not much I can do to restrain him.
(Side note: I think “Americas Funniest Videos” should be called “Taking it in the Crotch” since every other shot is some poor schmuck getting whacked in the hobbits by his own child or some piece of sports paraphernalia.)
I digress.
I don't know if this feeling is common among men, but as I sit there, bowl of Lucky Charms in hand, milk on my chin, watching these modern day gladiators, I can't help but think, "I could do that." You're probably thinking I'm a naive egomaniac, but bare with me. I figure you've only got to be able to do two things. First, you've got to be able to move fast; speed. This I've got in spades. Sometimes when I'm shadowboxing with myself in the mirror, and my hands start moving with the fury of a class five hurricane, I lose track of them and I almost knock myself out. Also, sometimes when I'm River Dancing, I do an Irish kick so hard that the momentum takes the other leg off the ground and I land on my back. That's the kind of speed I'm talking about. Other than speed you've got to be able to take a hit. This also should not be a problem. And let me tell you why. During my freshman year of high school I once took a flying discus to the temple and walked away without even a concussion. Another time, while riding motorbikes with my brothers, I took a diving header over the handlebars sans helmet. At the end of my flight my cranium head-butted a 20 pound rock. The result; I got six stitches in my crown but the rock got split like a melon. My head is the perfect target for heavy blows.
Now, the physical part of it aside, I do think I would have a hard time with the mental aspect of cage fighting. My whole life I have been more of a lover than a fighter. But to cage fight you have to be willing and able to put the hurt on anyone who steps into the ring with you, and I just don't think I have that mental "kill switch" that you need to survive in there. I have to really dislike a person to put the kybosh on them. So, all although I have all the makings of a killing machine, you will probably just get a nod and a polite hello should we pass on the street. But just a word of warning; should you try and hit me in the head with a discus; oh man, Heaven help you. Because once the "River-Dancer" comes out. There's not much I can do to restrain him.
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