The Real Memphis Mike (don't settle for imitations)

She was a beauty back in her day. She's still a sweet young thing in her mind but her varicose veins tell another story. You can practically hear the bone crumbling when she swivels her hips as she makes her way to your seat at the bar. Calls you "hon" or "sugar" as she tries to con you into buying her a drink. She hasn't willingly paid for one in 30 years. She'll tell you this could be your lucky night, provided you're blind or just plain desperate.  She tells herself, in a voice you're not supposed to hear, that she's going to get her life together...tomorrow. One last night on the town...the same night in the same town in the same bars she's been haunting for a generation. She's a ghost who doesn't realize she's dead.  She probably can't remember what color her hair used to be. Somewhere, under the layers of drug store dye, its just white. Her skin looks like a bad paint job on an old oak tree. Her voice, gravelly f...

I was just telling this story to a friend of mine (it's what us older guys do...we tell old stories) and he thought it was pretty damned funny. I've always thought it is...especially as I lived it. ERNIE & HOMER When I was in college, back in the 80s, I had a friend named Ernie. He had cerebral palsy and was in a wheelchair. He also had, by choice, a colostomy bag...which we referred to as "Homer". You'll find out why in just a bit. I'll admit, I thought that choosing to get a colostomy bag was a pretty radical idea. Being the kinda guy I am, I asked him about this choice. His answer was pretty simple and to the point. "I was really tired of shitting myself and having to wait for someone else to help me get cleaned up."  It really made sense! This was a young guy, in his mid 20s, with a dual degree in psych and criminology. He was bright! He lived on his own and handled his own affairs. There where, however, certain things he couldn't...

I wrote this over a decade ago. It's still just a bit of silliness...but some folks like it and some look forward to it. I hope it can bring you a smile. We need more of those these days. THANKSGIVUS Thanksgivus: that's what she called it. The 'she' in question would be a very short, loud, middle aged black woman with retardation who I supervised for years. Her name is Omega...fitting because she truly is THE END! Omega didn't exactly have a speech problem but I think her hearing wasn't 100% on the mark, as certain words would get slurred together such as "Thanksgivus". Another fave was her version of Social Security, which often sounded more like "sociable secretary" (of which I've known a few). Thanksgivus (which is what I now prefer to call the US holiday Thanksgiving) is the last Thursday of November (this is for my overseas friends who may not be fully knowledgeable of the subject). It is the holiday where we Americans give T...

"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread; And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed." You probably remember the old Mother Goose tale about the old gal in the shoe. Reading it now, its really rather disturbing. This is a tale of a woman at her wit's end...or that's how that Goose person wanted you to believe. Let's think about this: How old was she? 40s? 50s? She probably couldn't have been older, assuming that these kids are hers. And why did she keep having so damned many kids? Why didn't she keep her legs shut? JUST SAY NO! Where was the father in this story? There are many unanswered questions. I will put forth a possibility: The Old Woman in the Shoe was a prostitute. A Shoe-dweller of ill repute! At the time, birth control was not an option and abortions were often a death sentence. That she kept having the kids tells us a few thin...

(You can hear this HERE on my audiobook, Story Time With Memphis Mike) Having a heart attack is highly overrated. I don't recommend it for anyone. Worst of all, it wasn't anything like you see in movies. I was expecting the whole Fred Sanford moment, clutching at my chest and calling out "I'm coming home, Lord a-mighty I'm coming home!" No such luck. The day started pretty awful. I had been out late the night before to see a friend's band, in from California. I had been working 60-70 hour weeks and truly pushing myself to the limit. I woke up late and seriously, I felt like shit. A gal I had been dating had a really bad cold/bug, and she kept whining that it felt like she had a brick in her chest. I figured this is all it was, and I was mentally making plans to make her life hell for passing this malady on to me. I only had one client to see that day, but had scheduled a long day with him, so I was really dreading going in. I knew I should just st...

I am an American. I could shout "MERICA!!!!!! WE'RE #1!!!!!!" but....I'm still trying to sort out this whole numeric order; Who is #2? #7? What is the classification scale? I've spent a fair bit of time in other countries. I'd like to spend more time in other places. It has less to do with any personal dislike of my homeland as personal curiosity. I like checking out different places. I like experiencing new things. I found, in my travels, that Australia is a better fit for me in many ways...but not all. Their government wasn't too thrilled about me wanting to stay permanently. I get it We have a bad reputation. I discussed it with an immigration attorney friend of a friend there...seems we have a reputation for being unnecessarily violent. Ya think? One look at recent news and I can understand that perception of us. Many of my fellow Americans believe our own hype. We're the greatest! The best! Land of the FREE!!!! Home of the BRAVE!!!!! Many wou...

While some of you are filling your unders worrying that Lord Dampnut is going to get us into a war with the North Korean Fascionisto , I've been sitting here trying to figure out what He Of The Tiny Hands is really thinking. I believe I've got it. He was going to destroy ISIS in a matter of days. That FAILED to happen. Ban Muslims. FAILED. Build his wall and make our neighbors pay for it...FAILED. Repeal and Replace...FAILED. He's been trying everything his tiny mind can think of to undo anything and everything Obama did. Simply put, Obama really got under his skin. His perceived masculinity and self-worth are still so threatened by Barry O. & Co. that he has to find a way to at least match up. While he could start by being a man and showing off his tax returns (the LONG FORM please...you know, the LONG FORM ), we all know that isn't going to happen. He's too busy golfing, watching TV, still running for office, and declaring war on the media. While he shoul...

Like the title says, I'm a wee bit pissed off. Why? Good question. One could assume it's due to my latest vision-related health issue. One would be wrong. No, it's band related. The Bessemers are no more. I shouldn't be this angry but I am. The Bessemers were a cover band. Mind you, we, for the most part, played obscure or lesser known covers. The only reason I joined this band was to work with friends of mine who I consider to be top notch musicians (and I will NEVER call any of them anything less). In May of 2012, I was asked to fill in on bass for a show with these guys, at the Thunderbird Cafe, opening for Danny Kay (who I later toured with as a guitarist). As I was out of work and had the time, I agreed. One show led to two which led to three and so on. I was finally asked to join the band "officially". The funniest part - I didn't own a bass or an amp. I had been borrowing gear! (Thank you to Josh, Rob, and Mark) Even though I was not worki...

As a professional musician with nearly 40 years experience under my belt, I can say this: There is no electric guitar in all of the instrument's history that can rival the elegance and simplicity of a Telecaster. Not a one. Some of my 'kids'. Lots of hot-rodded Telewhackery going on here! It's been said that a Tele can sound like anything but nothing sounds like a Tele. This is pretty much true. Tonally, it can cover any and all ground a guitarist could want. It's a totally utilitarian instrument, which given my political bent could be one of the many things that attracted me to it. It's basically a slab of wood with a neck and pickups. The bolt-on neck can be easily replaced or removed. In this day and age, that makes it perfect for the travelling musician. Take the neck off, put both pieces in your luggage and you can pretty much fly worry-free (provided the airline doesn't lose your luggage). When Leo Fender and Doc Kauffman built a crude protot...

Back in the 80s, I often said that I could end the Cold War. With a BBQ. The US would supply the ribs, sauce and beer. The Soviets would supply the vodka, spuds, and whatever else they wanted. All countries interested would be invited...but they had to bring food and beverages. It would've worked. Why? You get any people together from different areas and one of the things they're going to talk about is food. It's easy to go EWWWWWWW rather than try something different. I was the King of EWWWWW for years but in my 20s, I made a conscious effort to change that. I'm still a picky eater. Those who know me know my avoidance of cheese and my severe issues with certain textures. But at least I try stuff. Sometimes I like it. Sometimes I don't. For Easter this year, I decided to try to make some authentic Middle Eastern food. I can tell you this: IT WAS AWESOME!!!!! While a chore to make, it was beyond delicious. Instead of all of this fighting and moaning all ove...

I've seen evil up close. It ain't pretty. That said, I try to hold to the belief that everyone has at least one redeeming quality. True evil reared it's head at least a few times in the 20th century. Hitler and Manson come to mind. One would be hard pressed to think of two more evil beings. That said, even these two utterly despicable beasts had a spark of beauty deep inside them. Manson was a musician and a songwriter. Hitler was an artist. Neither were considered 'good enough' by those considered the experts at the time. Manson's music, which I've heard alleged recordings of, was pretty average sounding mid 60s proto-hippie stuff. I've heard worse. I've heard better. I've written worse. But it was his music. His art. It meant something to him. Being a musician, I can imagine how he felt playing it, writing it, and being given the opportunity to record it. I can also imagine the pain he felt when it wasn't considered 'good enough...