The Great Holiday OOPS!

As usual, we here at The Metzger Ranch For Wayward Weirdos enjoyed yet another beautiful, quiet, Christmas holiday. We hope that you did as well. According to the media (our very own purveyors of doom), most of you didn't.

The reason? UPS, FedEx and the United States Post Office FAILED! Their failure? Not delivering that item you ordered on December 22 by Christmas Day!!!!!!

If you ask me, the failure is the shopper's, not the carriers'. And why is this, you may be asking?

Simple. For starters, you didn't plan very well. Take some responsibility. You knew Christmas was coming. It's the same time every year. December 25th. It's one of the few holidays that we Americans don't arbitrarily change just to make sure that it gives us a 3 day weekend.  Oh sure, you wanted to take advantage of the ever-dropping prices, the sales, etc. That's just being greedy, on your part. Not enough money? Learn to work within a budget. I'm the most broke-ass person I know and I still managed to amaze my better half with a pile O presents. I can fully understand wanting the most bang for your buck, but if you can't afford something; you can't afford it. I've always wanted a Martin D-45, but I can pretty much guarantee that it will always remain out of my price range.

In your last minute scavenging for great prices, you also listened to the 4th biggest lie ever told (fans of David Allen Coe are familiar with the first three)..."We'll have it delivered to your house no later than Christmas Day!" If you believed this...shame on you.  The retailers, whether they be online or brick & mortar, know that they can rope you in with this lie. They're not the ones actually delivering it, so they can pass the buck O guilt on to the carrier. And once again, many people fell for it. Christmas is RUINED because little Dylan or Brhianna or Cooper or Bethany didn't get that THING in time for Xmas. Santa has been outed as a fraud. Blah blah blah...

I have friends and family that work for the Post Office, UPS, FedEx, and various mail/parcel handling services. It's not easy work. They know that December and the first half of January, they're going to get slammed. And guess what, they do everything in their power to get that THING to you within as reasonable a time frame as possible. Just because someone paid extra does not guarantee that miracles will happen.

I'll actually leave out the part I was going to write about what Christmas is really about. No one wants to hear/read that shit. People want PRESENTS! STUFF! THINGS! Neatly wrapped in colorful paper and with a bow on it! (I didn't use a single bow this year)

It might be time to look backward for ideas for next year. These have always worked before for most folks, so why wouldn't they work now?

* Start setting aside a small amount of money every week or pay check for Christmas. It doesn't have to be a lot. Maybe $5 per person on your shopping list. This will give you in the neighborhood of $200 per person for next Xmas (minus whatever you take out during the year, fully planning to replace it but never doing so). That can be a fair amount of money! Anything extra, sure...use the plastic.

* Start Christmas shopping earlier. I swear, my stepmother is one to start Xmas shopping on Dec. 26. All year long, if she sees something that someone on her list would like, she usually buys it and sets it aside. I do something similar...I buy it...and just give it to the person. Usually for no reason other than "I saw this and thought you would enjoy it."  Call me crazy.

* Ignore the media. Their job is to make you feel worthless if you don't spend more this year than you did last year. Their job is to wind you up for The Black Friday Battlefield. You WILL slam your cart into someone else's! You will tackle someone over a THING. The corporations that make the THINGS pay the media to this...just so you can provide a Stuff-Filled Holiday Memory to someone else. Your memory, however, will most likely be that monthly reminder in the form of bill after bill coming through the letterbox.

Just a thought...while gearing up for Christmas 2014, take 5 minutes and look up the origins of "Xmas". There is no War On Christmas. The true meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with any of the crap I wrote. I won't go into detail (I'm sure I'd offend someone). But just stop for a minute. Breathe. And think back to YOUR favorite, childhood, Christmas memory and ask...are you making these memories for anyone today?

Don't fall for the OOPS.

A few random thoughts...

A few random thoughts...

* If you think you need a gun, great...get one. Learn as much as you can about gun safety. Make sure that you are emotionally capable and intelligent enough to own a gun. Only YOU can make that decision. Never leave a loaded gun sitting around. Never point a gun at anyone unless you intend to shoot them and never shoot anyone unless you intend to kill them. If you ever point a gun at me, it will take a team of very skilled surgeons to remove it from your ass.

* I don't care what anyone's personal thoughts are on abortion. If you're against them, don't have one. If you want to use the religious angle, then you probably shouldn't be having premarital sex anyway. A woman can have any number of reasons for wanting an abortion but none of them matter. Abortions are legal. I don't see that changing any time soon.

* If you are arguing politics or religion or morals, etc. with anyone, you are part of the problem. You will never change anyone's mind by arguing. Try having an adult discussion/exchange of ideas. Chances are, you'll find more similarities than differences. Build on those.

* If you ever hear me say the words "Bet me!", just walk away and admit defeat. By saying those words, I am prepared to demonstrate that I know the correct facts and am more than happy to take your money. I have only lost one bet in my life. It will never happen again.

* Your opinion is just that. Others may share it, or not. It probably isn't a big deal. Why make it one?

* I've died. Literally. I was dead for 7 minutes. You can guess for the rest of your life what it's like, read every religious book ever written, and watch a thousand documentaries on the subject. You're not going to know the truth until you die yourself.
Want to know what happens? You end. I have no other way to explain it. No bright light. No angels. No long lost relatives (I was looking forward to those!) No burning pit of Hell. Guess what...I'm still a Christian.

* You cannot hold a ukulele and not smile.

* You probably don't want to know what is really in the food you eat.

* Vegans/vegetarians are not correct. Carnivores are not correct. If you like meat, eat it. If you don't, then don't. Don't try to validate your opinion (see above) by trying to make a political statement. You just sound like an ass when you do. If you didn't personally see the animal die, then you have no idea how it died. I worked in a slaughter house. I still eat meat.

* Why is it anyone's business who anyone sleeps with? Before pointing a finger, ask yourself if you're willing to publish a list of all of your past sex partners and sex acts. I'm sure your parents would be proud of every one of them...right?

* Corporations are businesses. They exist to make money. Corporations are not people, my friend...therefore, they have no feelings nor are they concerned with morals or ethics. Anyone that tells you otherwise is probably being paid to do so or is afraid they will lose their job (and money). Face facts, we are all forced to worship money. I think that's kinda fucked up.

* Always take responsibility for every thing you do and every thing that happens in your life. If you are surrounded by assholes, it's because you invited them.

* Some days it's going to rain. That is a good thing. If it messes up your plans, you probably just didn't plan very well.

* You can be happy. It's a choice. If you're not happy, guess what....that too is a choice. No one can MAKE you happy except yourself.

The Best Laid Plans of Sterling Mann

I woke up this morning playing "air bass". I had obviously been writing a song in my sleep. The song that was taking shape was intended to be a spoken word piece, something along the lines of "The Gift" by The Velvet Underground. I don't know...this may be too long for such a piece...but only time will tell. Until then, here is the story to go along with the song:

Theobold Sterling Mann sat enjoying his usual breakfast of tea, toast and fresh-squeezed OJ. As he did on most days, he looked impeccable in his neatly pressed Arrow shirt and Van Heusen tie, complete with his father's antique rainbow trout tie clip. His wife, Betty, was noisily crunching through her bowl of Grape Nuts but unlike most days, this multi-sensory assault was not dimming his mood. Today was the day.

17 years of marriage had robbed Betty of her looks, figure, and whatever had attracted him to her in the first place. She was, essentially, a cow. At 280 + pounds, the sight of her in her brown and white terri cloth robe reminded him of an overweight, aged Hereford. Her personality was, in his mind, on par with this comparison.

Her bloodshot brown eyes stared blankly as she munched down her feed. She had been up late watching "reality TV" again. The only reality in Sterling Mann's mind this morning was that today was the day! His plan was coming to fruition.

It was Betty's habit to take a bath most afternoons, long after Sterling had left for work and before Springer came on. Today's would be her last. Sterling had left his small radio plugged in and resting on the bathroom sink. He had also left the window next to the sink open...just enough for him to poke the radio with a twig, and send it careening into the tub...essentially fricasseeing his beloved Betty.

The sink's proximity to the bathtub was perfect. Of course, there would be an investigation but with Sterling away at work, he had the perfect alibi. His plan was to let Betty believe he had gone for the day, park his car at his office - in plain view for the world to see - then sneak back home and do the deed.

Sterling had it all planned. Betty would most likely have the radio on, listening to one of her annoying talk radio programs - the ones where the disc jockey baits his/her listeners with hot topic questions like "What are YOUR thoughts on homosexual incest?" , all the while scrubbing her massive amounts of flab with a loofah. All he had to do was climb up the back of the garage, well out of sight of the neighbors' prying eyes, keep low, and use a twig to tip the radio into the tub. A moment of electrically-induced rigidity, a flicker of the lights and it would all be over. If the breaker, for whatever reason, didn't blow and the house burned to the ground, even better. The house was insured...and so was Betty. Sterling could easily portray the emotionally scarred widower who had lost not only his beloved bride but his house as well. Betty's taste in garish collectibles were, somehow, worth a small fortune. He could potentially net a few million in insurance settlements.

His plan was simple. The back yard of their modest two story home was small but cozy and private...shielded from the world with a thick wall of evergreens and thick hedges. A few maples also lined the property and at this time of year, stray twigs were not an uncommon sight. As tall as the trees were, there were often twigs scattered about the roof. Sterling's well-known aversion to ladders kept them there. There was no way Betty would climb up and clear them and Sterling was far too frugal to pay someone else to do it.

The garage was at the back of the house and conveniently located near the bathroom window, which was very old, patterned frosted glass. Betty would often comment that she was glad that no one could see into their bathroom...and gaze upon her in all of her full-figured glory. Sterling often thought that it was bad enough that he had to lay eyes on it.

All Sterling had to do was climb up the maple nearest the garage, crawl on his belly - keeping out of view - to within a foot or so of the bathroom window, grab a twig and gently nudge his old Sony radio off of the edge of the sink and into the tub. Once finished, he would sneak back to his office and await the news of his Betty's demise. If the house happened not to burn down in the process, he would simply arrive at home at his usual time, find the electricity not working, call around the house for Betty, find her fried carcass in the tub, and call the authorities...totally bereft and devastated. It was all so simple.

"I've told her a thousand times not to put that damned radio on the sink!", he would cry to the authorities just before breaking down in a fit of crocodile tears. He had it all planned.

Sterling left for work as planned. His secretary had the day off for her niece's christening, so he would be alone in the office. No one would miss him if he was gone for a few hours. His business was such that no one ever stopped by the office and most business was handled online.

Sterling walked the few miles back to his house, keeping mostly to side streets and being cautious to not draw attention to himself. The last thing he needed was an acquaintance ruining his plan. "Hi Sterling! Fancy seeing you here! Why aren't you at the office today?"...those would be all the words he needed to hear to ruin his plan...and he wasn't about to let that happen. He had no idea when or if he would ever get this chance again. Everything had fallen in place. His secretary needing the day off, the recent rains had cleared and the weather was just nice enough for Betty to leave the bathroom window cracked without fear of neighbors ogling her nudity. Today was indeed the day!

Once back in his own neighborhood, Sterling kept a vigilant eye out for neighbors, the postman, and any assorted passersby. He could not be seen. He was oh so cautious. He slipped along the side of the house and into the back yard just after noon. It was sunny but not too warm. He could see that the bathroom window was still open...just enough to poke a stick through. All he had to do was climb on top of the garage, grab a twig and wait. His aversion to ladders and heights...never a true issue. He was just lazy when it came to chores involving any type of real labor. Sure, he would mow the lawn and trim the hedges...but climb a ladder and clear debris from the roof? Not a chance. He figured the wind would usually blow it off, and it usually did. He stopped and grabbed a twig from the slightly unkempt yard, just to be safe.

Sterling climbed the maple and made his way, as quietly as possible, on to the garage and crept up to a close but safe distance from the window. All he had to do now was wait. He could hear Betty's television blaring...she was watching a game show from the sounds of it. She was a creature of habit, just as he was. As soon as he could no longer hear the television, he knew it would soon be time.

Betty had been watching The Price Is Right. Even though she didn't like the new host, she still enjoyed watching contestants over guess the prices of things and spin the big wheel. She didn't know why she liked it...she just did. She knew that her beloved Sterling hated game shows but she was happy to be married to such a practical man. He was all about work and business. He provided her with a nice home and he never seemed too upset when she had bought a new knick knack or collectible TV tray. Sure, he would grumble from time to time...but he worked long and hard...so he needed to vent now and then. They had never been blessed with children but she was happy all the same. She was thinking that maybe she would sell some of her collectibles on EBay and surprise Sterling with a weekend getaway. They hadn't gone anywhere in years. It would be nice to get away and relax together, she thought to herself.

Betty climbed the stairs to the bathroom, feeling every day of her 47 years. She was out of breath by the time she reached the bathroom. She thought to herself, "I really need to drop a few pounds!" All morning, she felt queasy. Her diet, for the most part, was atrocious. She would snack all day long...chips, candy, popcorn, soda. No wonder she was long past fitting into her mother's wedding dress. She thought for a moment about her wedding day...how handsome Sterling looked in his tuxedo and she in the antique dress. Such a lovely couple....

Betty turned on the water in the bathtub, adjusted the temperature just so, and still feeling queasy and out of breath, decided to sit on the toilet while waiting for the tub to fill. Sterling had left his radio on the edge of the sink. While she momentarily thought that odd, she dismissed the thought and turned it on and found her favorite talk radio program. The host was fielding calls from listeners who all seemed pretty upset about all of the welfare cheats in this country. From the way it sounded, nearly everyone was mooching off the government. Betty didn't go out much, so she didn't really know...were any of their friends welfare cheats and moochers? She would have to ask Sterling when he got home. She was feeling happy that Sterling made good money and that they didn't have to be on Welfare.

Betty felt a jolt of pain shoot up her left arm. She broke out in a cold sweat and her teeth suddenly ached like nothing she had ever felt before. Then the chest pain started. It was like someone had smacked her in the chest with a sledge hammer. She was having a heart attack...just like her father. That was Betty Mann's last thought as she died. Her large frame slid against the wall next to the toilet. The tub was just about to overflow.

Outside on top of the garage, Sterling Mann laid in waiting. He could hear the muffled sounds of the radio. The only other thing he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating. He remained calm. He inched a bit closer to the window and was able to clearly see his radio sitting there on the edge of the sink next to the bathtub. He decided to wait another minute to make sure Betty was already in the tub. He hadn't seen her pass the frosted window but was sure she had to be in the tub by now. Another minute wouldn't kill him.

As Sterling laid there on top of the garage, twig in hand, preparing for the beginning of his new life, he felt something tickle the short hairs on the side of his neck, just behind his right ear. At first he thought perhaps it was just a bit of debris rustling against him as he lay there on top of the garage. He really could use a trim, he thought to himself.

He kept feeling something tickling those short hairs, and in a moment of reaction, reached up to brush whatever it was away. As his hand reached his neck, that was when the mouse that had been nuzzling his neck bit his hand. Startled, Sterling jerked and began to roll off of the garage. The mouse, with it's teeth still embedded in Sterling's hand, but harder. Theobold Sterling Mann started to flail as he rolled off of the garage, head first, and landed squarely on the concrete of the driveway, snapping his neck. He didn't die instantly. His body jerked and twitched as he realized he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw, before he blacked out for good, was the little mouse. It had a drop of his blood discoloring it's muzzle. It's nose twitched and Sterling Mann died.

Mom & The Xmas Tree

(Yes. I used "Xmas" instead of "Christmas". If you don't understand the history of it, shut up and go look it up.)

I've never enjoyed decorating Xmas trees. I didn't enjoy it as a child and I don't enjoy it as a grown man. Don't get me wrong, I love the way a well-decorated tree looks...I just don't want to do it. It's one of those rituals that seems like a misspent use of time. You put up the tree, drag out the boxes of ornaments, run up the electric bill for a while, then take it back down again. I don't get it...but I'm glad most people do.

Today would have been our mom's birthday. She would have been 78. She had a twin sister, who has also since passed. While I can picture my aunt at 78, I just cannot picture our mother at that age. She died when she was 43, so I even though I watched her twin sister live into her 70s, I just can't see my mother like that.

Our mom was a hoot! She had a great sense of humor and was blessed with many creative talents; painting, sculpture, music, decorating...you name it, she was great at it! She really excelled at Xmas!

We grew up in what most would call a comfortable, white collar neighborhood. We really didn't want for the creature comforts. As I've grown older, I respect my parents much more because of that. They both came from poor families. At a time when moms didn't work, both of my grandmothers did. Our parents instilled in us the fact that one has to work for what they want in life.

OK...mom was pretty good at spoiling us when she wanted to. And she was great at doing that at Xmas.

With our mom's birthday so close to Xmas, I seem to recall that she would usually wait for her birthday to decorate the tree. Always a real one, never an artificial tree, That seemed important to her. We usually went to Di Gregory's to get the tree. Once or twice I remember us going to a tree farm. That seemed like a waste of a day to me. Sure, it was nice to see all of the Xmas trees and future Xmas trees...but it entailed a drive out to the boonies, a place I've never felt comfortable, and dealing with flannel-clad guys who chewed tobacco, spit a lot, and had an odd smell about them. We used to spend a lot of time on our Aunt Grace's farm...so it wasn't the smell of hard work and farming...maybe it was the smell of cheap bourbon. I can't say for sure...but I digress.

The tree would usually sit out on our back patio for what, to me, seemed like months. In actuality, it was probably a few days. Inevitably, we would wake one morning to see the tree, in the tree stand, naked and waiting to be decorated. Us kids would help a bit...but really, we were pretty lazy. Mom didn't seem to mind. As long as we were there. In no time at all, she would have that tree looking like something out of the Sears catalogue!

Seeing the tree lit up in the day time was nice, but I thought it looked best at night, with all of the other lights out. Just the soft glow of the fairy lights warming the house with their sparkling effulgence always looked so, well...for lack of a better word...pretty! But that was nothing compared to Xmas morning.

Mom would go all out and tastefully decorate the whole house. Decorations on the doors and windows, and of course the banister. We didn't have a fireplace, so our stockings were hung on the banister with care....you know the rest.

Xmas morning meant getting up early, after maybe 7 minutes of sleep (Hey! Did you hear something on the roof????). The first sight we saw were those stockings, stuffed to the point of looking ready to burst, hanging on the banister. It was TOY TIME!!!!!!!! We would grab those stockings and race to the family room where our eyes would behold the most magical sight of all: Mom's tree and all of the presents...wrapped in tin foil!

OK, you might think that sounds weird. Sure, we could have easily afforded fancy wrapping paper...but our mother was not only creative, she was pragmatic. The twinkle of the Xmas tree lights would  radiate and bounce off of those mountains of presents. As I think back, it didn't matter was those gifts were...my memory is always of how it looked. A glowing Xmas wonderland!

Like I said, our Mom had a pragmatic approach to Xmas morning, as well as her creative and sometimes spoiling nature. With 4 kids, her, dad, our grandmother and 2 great aunties, as well as the dogs, that tin foil was much more easily smooshed into balls and pitched into the Xmas morning garbage bag. Regular wrapping paper would've filled up twice as many bags! See! Our Mom was a genius. Not only was it a beautiful sight on Xmas morning, it was also easy to get rid of!

After all of the presents were opened, and we kids would be playing with our toys, Mom would get to take it easy and have a smoke while dad and our grandmother would usually make Xmas breakfast. Gram usually had made a few loaves of banana nut bread and dad would make bacon and eggs...the only time I ever recall him making eggs! (one of the downsides to having a cardiologist father...eggs were EVIL! I've eaten them maybe 3 times in my life. They have no flavor to me.) Dad would make his fancy eggs...cooking them in the oven in a muffin tin. Looked spiffy and all...but as a kid, I never ate. I hated most food. I liked the banana nut bread and the Xmas cookies...but other than that, all I wanted was peanut butter and mashed potatoes. (Needless to say, my palette has expanded greatly...but I still love peanut butter and mashed potatoes)

Usually while all of this was going on, a neighbor kid, Bruce Greenhouse (who was Jewish) would stop by and want to play. He was a tad hyper...but a good kid. Dad would grumble and Mom would politely explain that we were having our Xmas and send him home. Year after year this scenario played out. Every year Dad would grumble (something he has down to an art form) and every year Mom would be sweet as pie to Bruce...sometimes sending him off with some cookies for his family or one of the multitudinous loaves of nut bread. Mom was truly the Queen of Xmas!

Like I said, I still hate decorating the tree...but I always have one. Always an artificial one. (Mom would've hated that!) The last few years, the young'un and I have used my grandmother's old ceramic table top tree, as we live with a cat. Cats + Xmas trees = inevitable crash/mess. I don't have that to do.

It's Mom's (and Aunt Nancy's) birthday. You know what? I might just pull out the old artificial tree and put it up and decorate it...in honor of their memory. If only I can find a way to keep the cat off of it.....



Our Mom, dolled up for Xmas...sometime in the 1960s

The Inner Voice

We all have an inner voice. Some of my former clients have many of them...but for the sake of this piece, we'll just deal with that one inner voice that we all seem to have.

Our inner voice rarely yells. It doesn't need to. It tells us what we should already know. My inner voice tends to be a smart ass (surprise surprise!) and cracks jokes all the time.

I had a client years ago named Albert. Albert had a significant impact on my life in many ways. He was about 60, had Down Syndrome, and for all intents and purposes, couldn't speak. He called most people "Hey Babyyyy!". He called me "Cuckoo". He knew me well, apparently.

Albert had spent a large part of his life living in institutions and state hospitals. He had family contact, just not lots of it. He learned what he learned as best he could. That said, in many ways, he was wiser than most.

One of the things that amazed me about Albert was his level of perception. I never knew Albert to go to church. His family may have taken him; I don't know. What I do know is that he recognized religious symbols. Not just Christian either. Whenever he would see a religious symbol, he would stop, get down on his knees, and pray a mumbly little unintelligible prayer.

This happened wherever we went. We could be out for a walk and he would see a nativity scene, and down to his knees he went. Same thing would happen if he saw a menorah.

One year, he and another client were at my house during the holidays. My auntie was still alive then and had invited them over for cookies and punch and a little holiday cheer...at someplace that wasn't a group home.

While here, I asked the guys if they wanted to help me trim the Christmas tree...and let me tell you, they were excited to do so! I've never been a fan of decorating the tree but if I'm with someone who does enjoy it, it makes it more fun for me.

Well, Albert and this other guy were just having a blast! They oh-so-carefully chose ornaments from one of my auntie's many boxes of them, and gingerly placed them on the tree.

Albert then noticed something. My auntie had a beautifully ornate porcelain Buddha sitting on the bottom shelf of a decorative table in the living room. Albert couldn't take his eyes off of it. Next thing we know, Albert walks over to the Buddha, gets down on his knees and does his mumbly little prayer. He knew the significance. The best I can guess, his inner voice told him what this thing was. The glowing smile he gave us afterwards told us all we ever needed to know about Albert and true faith. I believe that he understood that faith isn't about dogma or rituals or God, Allah, Buddha, or the Great Cosmic It. It is about peace and love and understanding.

Listen to your inner voice. Chances are, it's the voice of reason.

Jesus Doesn't Live Here Anymore

This country is obviously more fucked up than I'd ever believed.

I've recently read articles about different major cities debating whether or not to outlaw feeding the homeless. The thought that anyone would ever think this is a bad idea just shows how fucked we are here.

It's bad enough that our country believes that health care is a privilege; only those who can afford it can have it. Same with our justice system. I read today about a 16 year white old boy who killed four people in a drunken car crash being given probation over jail time, simply because he's rich and didn't understand that his actions had consequences. Had that been a poor black kid, the courts would probably have pushed for the death penalty.

I've never seen our country so deeply divided. When I was a kid in school, we were taught "United we stand, divided we fall." I'm waiting for the inevitable fall.

I'm seeing so much bad in this country lately that I'm having a tough time seeing the good that I know is around me. It's no wonder than suicide rates go up around the holidays...it seems like the media is going out of it's way to only show the ugly side of humanity.

We should all be coming together to make this world a better place...at least at this time of year. But...we're not.

I was getting ready to walk to the store this evening when this song hit me...out of nowhere. Sometimes that what songs do...they come on all at once and demand that they be written. I grabbed the closest guitar and my fingers automatically went to the chords. My right hand started to strum a waltz (another one!) and the words poured out of me faster than I knew what to do with. I lost a couple of verses because I couldn't keep up with myself.

I think this song says it all. America no longer has a use for faith. We put our stock in science and the media. If you call yourself a Christian, you're equated with the lunatics on the right...the Westboro Baptists and such. Americans have traded in actual faith for a few memorized prayers from childhood and the belief that if we SAY we're Christians, and go to church once in a while, that we'll all be OK.

That's not how it works. Christ's message was one of love, not greed...not only when it's convenient or beneficial. Instead of following His message, we follow the latest celebrities. Atheism is the new Christianity. Atheists and agnostics are more militant than any Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, etc. has ever been. They count only on facts. There is no room for faith.

There's a meme I often see, and I've heard a song with the same title: "Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus!" We do. We really do.

If you've read this far, please take 3 more minutes and listen to this. Let me know what you think.



Merry Christmas!

Top 5 of 2013

If you know me, you know how much music means to me. Long ago, I gave up any chance of a normal life to immerse myself, thoroughly, in music. No regrets there!

I love that after all of these years, I can still hear something and get the same physical and emotional sensations that I got as a child listening to Beethoven, The Beatles, Hendrix, Sex Pistols, and more.

These are 5 of my faves from this past year (or so). It's been brought to my attention that I am sometimes slow at picking up on new artists. Well, I can't listen to everything all the time! I create a lot of music myself, and that seriously takes up most of my time. The creative process is very much like a form of mania. It overwhelms the creator...but in the best way possible! But I'm digressing...

The following videos are from acts that I've either just discovered in the past year, or have been aware of and they're now back! With the exception of Valerie June, I've come to know all of these acts personally and as people, they are just as awesome as their music. Valerie June...we WILL be hanging out one of these days! And when we do, I will talk you out of ever letting another producer mess up your music! (Take note Danny! You messed her shit up!) As for Sister Cookie, I am so damned glad she's back making music again! I first heard her in 2008 and fell in love with her sound! She's a sweet gal too...and I hope that my online proddings had something to do with bringing her back. Stevie Tombstone is such an amazing writer...he's one of those cats I envy at times. Damned nice guy too! Clint Bradley and the Blue Cats do their own damned thing...and I love it! In our many correspondences, Clint and I are both of the mind that rockabilly is a great musical genre but it needs to be allowed to grow...not be relegated to museum piece status. Scenesters are bad thing.

And Rev. Beatman....definitely his own thang! Not much more can be said...other than as unique as his music is, he is every bit the uniquely sweet guy!

Hope you enjoy these cats! They're ALL great!!!!!!! They're in no particular order...so just dig em!

M

The Bell Ringers

When I hear the term "bell ringer", the 1st thing that usually pops into my head is Lon Chaney as Quasimodo, in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

We just came back from the grocery store. While there, I made a mental note to look for the Salvation Army bell ringer. For years, I have tried to donate my loose change to them when I go shopping...and regardless of the annual smear campaign against them, will probably continue to do so. Why? Because I believe in most of what they do.

Sure, it seems that every year around this time, we all see some online article or blog about how these despicable Christians and their bell-ringing minions refuse to help homosexuals. Just last night, I read one of these articles (from The Gay Voice News). The article stated that the Salvation Army wants homosexuals put to death. In short, that's a load of crap.

According to the Salvation Army's own website, their stance on the subject is this:

Q: Does The Salvation Army discriminate in its delivery of services against those of a particular race or sexual orientation?

A: We strive to meet the needs of vulnerable groups and those overlooked or ignored in our communities. We make no distinction based on ethnicity or sexual orientation.

OK, so maybe some of you can't believe that, coming from the proverbial horse's mouth. Would you listen to Dan Savage, of Savage Love fame? How about The Advocate?

Dan Savage quoted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in regard to the allegations of discrimination. He answered,"An individual's sexuality is simply not a factor in whether or not we provide service," insisted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in an e-mail. While he acknowledges that the group is "an evangelical part of the universal Christian church," Hudson continues, "any instance of discrimination is in direct opposition to our core beliefs and is against all of our policy."  Don't believe me? Look here. Savage seems to ignore that fact, and goes out of his way, as usual, to shout from his soapbox, "Don't Donate to The Salvation Army!", even though he shows his own ignorance in his article.

I think it's safe to say that if one wants real news about the LGBT community, one should check out The Advocate, who has reported that the Salvation Army does NOT consider homosexual orientation a sin. And guess what, even if some of it's members do, they'll still help these people anyway. 

Some of these blogs and "news sites" seem to have one goal in common: creating a fuss. Why? It brings THEM attention. When in doubt, follow the money trail. These sites often quote people who use their online names, and rarely give any information that can be verified. They are vague about names, dates, times...you know, the little stuff that makes up real reporting.

No, instead, they go after the reactionary reader...the one who will probably only skim the article and then share it with as many people as possible...because they are so OUTRAGED.

Simply put: if you want to be outraged about something, be outraged about something real...like starving people...you know, one of those vulnerable groups organizations like the Salvation Army try to help.

If you don't want to donate to the Salvation Army via it's bell ringers, that's fine. Don't. No one says you have to. But in your temporary moment of outrage over the allegations of discrimination, think about the people who WON'T be helped because of your unwillingness to help.

The Salvation Army does a LOT of good. So do many other organizations. The Salvation Army just makes it a little bit easier by having their bell ringers and their kettles right there for you to find. It might not be as easy write off on your taxes as that check you wrote to another organization, but at least you get a personal Thank You.

I was disheartened to not see the bell ringer at the store today. Maybe I'll have to go looking for one downtown.

Thanksgivus!

THANKSGIVUS!!!!!!!!!!

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND!!!!!! 8th YEAR!!!!!!

I post this every year. Why? Because some folks ask for it....also because I like it. I hope you will too. We probably shouldn't need a holiday to remind us to be thankful for whatever we have...but I'm glad we do. So with out further adieu....

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 Thanks to God for giving us BIG tasty birds, punkin pie & cranberry sauce...all courtesy of a tribe that we soon took great pains to wipe out. In short, when those Pilgrims (essentially English religious nuts) 1st landed at Plymouth Rock, they didn't have a CLUE what they were doing or what they were in for!

After that 1st winter (what do you mean "No Central Heating"???), most of the Pilgrims had died off. A few hearty ones remained (probably by eating the others...but that story seems to have vanished in the annals of history) and it was looking bleak for them, as they didn't know SQUAT about farming North American soil. Luckily, the Indians (bite me, I will NOT be PC) took pity on them, showed them what to do and the Pilgrims survived. They did sooo well, in fact, they had a big feast and invited the Indians. When the Indians showed up, they realized that white folks are either really bad at planning feasts or are just stingy, so they sent some braves to go kill a half dozen or so deer....gotta make sure ya don't leave the table unless yer ready to burst....STILL an American Thanksgivus tradition. NOWHERE on the menu was green bean casserole....PLEASE make note of that! (the Americans reading this will get the humor)

Finally, sometime in the 19th century, after decades of confusion as to what this "New England" holiday was and when it was supposed to be observed, some mad woman wrote everyone in the colonies suggesting the last Thursday in November...just in time to mark the start of Xmas shopping season!

Now, contrary to what some of my English colleagues have been lead to believe, Thanksgivus is NOT the American Xmas. Trust me, NO ONE on this planet overdoes Xmas like the Americans! Here it is, the Sunday BEFORE Thanksgivus and I'm looking out my front door at my neighbor's Xmas lights! 1 month 5 days before we celebrate the Man's b-day (even though we have the date wrong)...1 month 5 days of looking at those damned lights! Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays as much if not more than most people...but I like things to be done for the right reasons...not just to be the 1st, best or brashest.

For the holidays, I wish you all peace, happiness and a full belly. May your homes be filled with laughter (and not just the canned version coming from your TV). May your pockets never be empty, maybe your fridge always be full (with at least 1 6pack of decent beer...in case I should stop by lol) and may your troubles be few & far between.

In fact, I don't just wish you these things for the holidays...I wish them for you all EVERYDAY.

I'm having a few friends over (as usual) this year for Thanksgivus. It might not be the fanciest dinner but I hope to guarantee all a good meal, a full belly and someplace to sit and digest and enjoy some good company after (and before...as long as they stay OUTTA MY WAY in the kitchen.).

We will revel in the death of a turkey. We shall take delight in the taters, which will be mashed. The rolls will hopefully not be slightly burned on the bottoms...but if they are, that's what butter, gravy & butter knives are for! The veggies will be plentiful and not overcooked. The pie will be chocolate cream...NOT PUNKIN! (my tradition...not yours, OK? ) And yes Virginia...there will most likely be cranberries of some sort...JUST NO DAMNED GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE...PLEASE!

Free To Write Again

I finished a song today. That might not sound like much, but this song has haunted me for 15 damned years.

Sure, most songwriters have tons of unfinished songs. Hell, I have hundreds, maybe thousands of them...but this song has always been gnawing at the back of my brain. I've asked at least a half dozen songwriter friends to help me with it over the years, but nothing ever came of it. I guess it just wasn't the song's time...until now.

I guess I can thank the music industry, in part, for it. This song is bound to be ignored by most. It's a waltz for Pete's sake...and really, who writes waltzes anymore? That said, the industry, and the possibly irreversible mess it's found itself in, has freed me to write whatever the hell I damned well like. It no longer really matters.

For years I've heard the words "it'll never get airplay" in the back of my head when I write. Not that many of my songs have ever or will ever get much airplay, but those words were always still there. The industry created, for decades, a sea of writers and musicians trying to write the next hit...the next big thing. Let's face it, there's hasn't been anything new or original in years. Vinyl is enjoying a resurgence not because of anything new, but because everyone is looking backwards for music. What's the old saying? "Everything old is new again." Most of today's music is so putrid that even the kids won't listen to it. Millions are spent in advertising campaigns to tell folks how awesome this new song or artist is, and the record companies keep on losing money. It's actually pretty funny.

The industry is made up of greedy motherfuckers, selfish bastards, and whores. I've never been greedy but like most, I can honestly say I've been, at different points in my career, the latter two. There's so much DIY now that the playing field has truly been leveled. Folks are giving their music away at a loss just to be heard...the good ones as well as the bad ones. With all of this going on...why not finish my waltz?

I remember when I first had the idea for the song. One line is all it took. At the time, it sounded ridiculously simple. I thought it bordered on stupidly simple. Then there was that fact that it's a waltz. It has an almost Mexican feel to it. I knew then that it would never make anyone's Top 10. Days, weeks and months rolled by and that song kept gnawing at me...like a rat trapped behind a wall.

I tried my old writing trick: I got good and drunk and tried to get myself pissed off. No more verses came...but the song just crept deeper into my soul. Time kept on passing it by. I wrote song after song, leaving my little waltz in the shadows. Every so often, it would pop up while I was playing guitar. I'd play the little bit of it I'd written and wonder when or if I would ever finish it.

Like I said, I invited friends to help me with it. I think when I told them it was a waltz, it put them off. Again, really...who plays waltzes anymore? My friends are rockers, blues cats, etc. They don't play no stinking waltzes! So the song sat, anything but quietly, in my subconscious.

More years went by. I released a few more albums. I recorded with others. I produced others. I wrote for others. I toured the US, the UK, Australia, and back...and that little waltz waited patiently.

I kept vowing to get out of show biz. Yeah right...that's not likely to ever happen. Cancer. A coma. Brain damage. A heart attack. A legal nightmare. Another bout of cancer. The world kept changing, getting darker and more impersonal. Instant communication abounded. I can play along with another musician on the other side of the planet without leaving my den...and still, the little waltz sat ignored.

I went on the road and played the waltz for the guys I toured with. They're rootsy guys...they dug it...but had no clue what to do with it. The song was now back in the forefront of my mind. It would no longer be ignored.

I've been writing a fair bit lately. Mostly old blues sort of stuff...definitely not waltzes. I asked another friend if she wanted to try her hand at it. She agreed...but before she could, the rest of the song presented itself to me. As I worked out the last verse, it was a deeply emotional experience. As my better half put it, it was like a well-deserved shit for my mind. Not that the song is shit. It's anything but....but I got what she meant.

My little waltz, the song that took me 15 years to finish, is ready to spread it's musical wings and fly. I'd like to record it. I already have production ideas for it. I have a feeling that it will be one of those songs that takes on it's own life in the studio. And I'll love every minute of it. Until then, I have a lo fi, home demo that I recorded on my laptop, played on my beat up old 12 string that has needed new strings for 5 years. The lo fi quality seems to fit the song. It's rough and dirty...like it raised up from the earth like a mighty weed.

Thank you, again, to the music industry, the greedy motherfuckers, selfish bastards, and whores...and the complacent music fans who now expect everything for free...for killing the music business. You've done yourselves a disservice...but you've leveled the playing field. We're all fucked now...and it doesn't matter...because we're now free to write whatever the hell we want again. Fuck the next big hit. Fuck the concept of heroes and fans. Music has been dragged back to earth...where it belongs.

I'm happy with my little waltz. Ask me and I'll even let you hear it...in all of it's ragged glory.

A String of Honky Tonk Friday Nights

As you may already know, I've just been on tour with Danny Kay & The Nightlifers, a honky tonk band based out of Baltimore, MD. We were having a great time and a good tour until we hit some unexpected rough patches. The last straw was our bass player, Johnny Lawless, falling ill. We had to pull the plug then. Big apologies to those who had been planning to come out and see us. We will try to reschedule for the spring.



L-R Johnny Lawless, Danny Kay, Memphis Mike @ The Parlour, Providence, RI

Some of you may be wondering "So, how was the rest of the tour?"  In short, GREAT!

We kinda got a late start though. Johnny drove up from Virginia to pick me up in Pittsburgh and then out to the middle of nowhere in the mountains where Danny Kay is now residing. We're talking Bigfoot Country. Once we were all aboard and packed up and strapped in, it was straight to Harrisburg, PA for our first show of the tour.

Susquehanna Ale House 22  Harrisburg, PA

In case you didn't know, we had NO rehearsal for this tour. Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nada. I had done one show with these guys, back in July...just one set...that's all the practice we got. DK had given me a list of songs and I learned them. Once it was showtime, it was time to prove that I had. We had a nice turn out, especially for a Wednesday night. Folks were moving and grooving and singing along. We sold a fair amount of merch (merchandise = CDs, t-shirts, etc...for those not in the know) too. Hell, I even sold 3 of my CDs...and it wasn't even my show!

A friend of DK's, Dale, was kind enough to put us up at his house...and WOW! what a place it was! Nestled back in the tall trees, well off the road, it's a beautiful house complete with a bar, hot tub, movie theater room and more than enough rooms to comfortably accommodate us all. There was a little 'get together' with some friends and fans...that went on well into the night. We were pretty tired but it was nice to get to hang out with folks a bit. Dale's girlfriend had taken the day off and made us a batch of home-made "whoopie pies" (Gobs to you Pittsburgh folks) to take on the road with us...and let me tell you, not only were they good, they were well appreciated! It took us a few days to finish them off...but we did! I think I ate the last one in Connecticut. They traveled well!

After a good sleep, we loaded up the van and headed east to Philly...


The Shore Road Tavern  Philadelphia, PA

I hadn't played anywhere in Philly in years. Hell, I haven't toured in any real sense since my heart attack back in 07, so I was up for anything. I wasn't expecting the Shore Road Tavern!

The drive to Philly was pretty short...but Philly didn't disappoint when it came to remembering how crappy the traffic is. The GPS was going nuts and sending all over the place. We took a brief detour to DK's buddy Smitty's garage to get the van's heater checked out...as we figured we'd probably need it. (we did!) Smitty's is pretty well hidden but MAN O MAN what a treasure! If you're a fan of old cars and trucks, you'd love the place! There were a large number of old cars from the 40s/50s in various states of repair. It seems that Smitty gets these old cars and fixes them up for resale, as well as doing custom jobs and repairs. He also has 2 very cool old tow trucks. I made sure to get photos of them for a buddy of mine who is a tow truck driver.

From there it was on to the venue. Along the way, we drove down a city street that boasted no less than 30 different barber shops! If you need a haircut, obviously Philly is the place to be. Average price: $5. I saw a barber shop not far from the venue and they were charging $10! That place must be amazing to charge such an extravagant price!

We pulled up to the venue and it looked, from the outside, like any old city bar. We walked in through the stage door and I have to say that I was amazed at the petite size of the place. The stage wasn't much bigger than some drum risers I've seen...but it was well lit and they had a good PA system. They also have a trap door...so for a Munsters fan like me, I was loving it.

The bar really is tiny...but what it lacks in size it more than makes up for in coolness. The owners, Mike & Kathy, are great folks and you can tell that not only do they love their bar, they love music! They are big supporters of live music and working musicians. It appears that they regularly have live music and the Thursday night that we played was no exception. In fact, there were 2 acts on the bill...us and Stevie Tombstone.  Stevie tours solo, just him and his guitar, but had a stellar banjo picker named Buck flying in for a few east coast shows.

After loading in and settling in to the apartment afforded us by the club (more about that in a minute), DK, Johnny Lawless, Stevie Tombstone & I walked a few blocks down to a place called Joe's for a Philly Cheesesteak sammich (sans cheese for me). While the food was good...the milkshakes were amazing! I loaded up on hot peppers too...so I almost felt bad for the band.

Back at the club later, Stevie & Buck put on an amazing show of blues-y honky tonkin' folky kind of music. It was breath-taking. I wish I could've caught the whole set but I had to S.S.S.(Shit Shower Shave) before the show. OK...I didn't shave. Didn't shave the entire tour. I wanted to see if I can grow a beard. I can...but it turns out to be a pathetic, patchy white mess.

The apartment that the club has for traveling acts is fantastic! Reminds me of the place my old buddy Perry Petrone had for traveling bands...and if you know that name, you know what I'm talking about! Clean, comfortable, and home-y. Nice beds, full kitchen, clean bathroom and shower...what more could you ask for? Lots of very cool posters and memorabilia too!

The Shore Road Tavern is a must! Check the place out next time you're in Philly!

We got back to the bar and caught the last of Stevie's set. The packed house was loving it. I knew this would be a tough act to follow...so we set up and gave it 125%! And it showed! We did 2 sets full of DK's original honky tonk and a few select country and rockabilly covers. The crowd danced all night. I was tickled to see my friend Grace there (one of my best friend's sister). She really enjoyed the show and her friend Mike also dug it.  By the night's end, we were pretty tuckered out...and were thankful to not have to load out until morning. We just packed everything up and stored it, and then had a few beers with some friends, fans, Mike & Kathy, and Danielle, the bartender. Good times! By 2:30 we went to the apartment to crash. I had a room to myself (something really important on the road...ya just need some alone time) and sat and played some delta blues on an old guitar left there by an aging country singer. As I was drifting off to sleep, I could hear DK in the other room watching the movie "The Commitments". This was the start of the Otis Redding nightmare.

I got up early, SSS'ed and went for a walk around Philly. We were blessed with pretty nice weather for this tour. It was cool but not cold. The Shore Road Tavern is in a very working class area of Philly and I went walking through side streets, up to the cemetery, down to the Wawa (an east coast convenient store chain) looking for instant coffee to take on the road with me, and eventually back to the apartment, where I ran into Stevie and Buck downstairs practicing some killer new material. If you're not hip to Stevie Tombstone's music...get with it! He's totally bad ass!

Finally, the 2 mighty sleepers (DK & Johnny Lawless) got up and ready, we loaded up the truck, said our thank you's and good-byes and hit the road.  The ride up to Vermont seemed endless. The GPS was mocking us with "unique" directions.

RIOT IN COWTOWN/The Barn  Pawtel, VT

I'd been through Vermont in my younger days but don't believe I ever played there. VT is mostly rural (from what I could see) and seemingly mostly white. It sort of struck me like a living, breathing LL Beane catalogue. Lots of people in expensive flannels and khakis. Don't get me wrong...a very nice place...but being a city boy, I really felt out of my element.

We pulled up to The Barn and from the outside, looked as advertised. On the inside, however, this is a pretty posh joint. Pawtel is a small small town, so this seems to be the place to go. The staff were great and treated us well. We were getting free dinner and drinks along with our pay, so it was time to dig in. I opted for the Guiness-marinated steak and let me tell you, THAT WAS SOME GOOD EATING! I rarely eat red meat anymore due to my ticker...but damn, that was one excellent big ol' hunk of meat! The spud, salad and rolls were great too. Washed down with a local lager and a cup of coffee and seriously, I could've gone and taken a nap....but it was time to work! They offered us dessert too...but I was already bloated like a tic, so we declined.

We set up onstage and by the 2nd number, some older folks in the crowd were up and dancing. I even stepped down off the stage during a song to dance a bit with an old gal who looked to be having the time of her life.

DK was having some throat problems but we kept it going. Johnny and I started the 2nd set without DK...to let him rest his throat for a few minutes. We did the old George Fleming song "I'm Gonna Tell" and Hank Sr's "Move it On Over". The crowd was enjoying the show big time. DK rejoined up and we honky tonked the crap out of the joint!

After the show, we went to the place we were being put up for the night; an old sap house converted to a cabin. I'd been told all night that the view in the morning was truly a sight to see...and I couldn't wait to get a good night's sleep so I could get up early and see it. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case....

I'll say this: there is NO light pollution in this part of VT. I haven't seen a sky that clear and star-filled since the last time I was in Australia. The constellations practically jumped out at ya and the sky seemed almost closer. It was gorgeous...but there was a big party going on at the sap house cabin...and things were gonna get weird.

DK had been trying to fix his sore throat with bourbon all night...not a smart move...and he paid for it...behind the van...all over the ground.

In the sap house is where the real party was going down. It's a small building with just a wood burning stove for heat...but it was hot & hopping in there! Plenty of beer, wine and whiskey and unless my olfactory senses deceived me, a bit of Auntie Mary Jane's Herbal Remedy. We all just wanted so sleep. It had been a long day...but people always want to hang out with the band, so I'm used to it. I had a few beers, played guitar a bit with one of the guests, and made a new friend of a guests' golden retriever G-Dog.

DK, feeling pretty much like crap by this point, was trying to crash on the couch in his sleeping bag. Johnny, being the smart one, climbed the ladder up into the loft. I'd finally cleared folks off of the couch on the far side of the room, and started stretching out...with my new friend G-Dog curling up with me.

Folks started to realize that we need some sleep, so they started heading out...except for one gal who was 'feeling no pain' and looking a male friend of hers. JD. We heard that name for the next few hours. "Where's JD?"  "Has anyone seen JD?" "JD, WHERE ARE YOU???"  "JD! JD! JD!"

Me, I can pretty much sleep through anything. I once slept through a tornado, right under an open window, as roofs were being blown off of houses. I slept right through it...so this didn't bother me much. DK & Johnny, on the other hand, were less than thrilled. This was also the continuation of the Otis Redding nightmare.

Someone had put on a "Best of Otis Redding" CD...and had it on continual play. For the next few hours, while we tried to rest, we heard the cries of "JD?!?!? JD?!?!!?! WHERE'S JD?!!!?" over the nonstop backing of Otis Redding. It was becoming a bit maddening...but I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up to the sounds of Johnny up in the loft explaining that no, he was not JD...but Johnny from the the band. I opened my eyes just in time to see a body fall from the loft...and land on DK! As she fell, she also brought down a shelf covered with fishing lures. The shelf, thankfully missed DK's head by a few inches but he was covered in fishing lures and this chick. The running joke for the rest of the tour was that "Girls fall hard for Danny Kay". As I didn't have my glasses on, it was all a blur. I heard Johnny yell down "Are you OK????" and while DK grunted that he was, the young lady also stated that she was and continued her search for JD. She then came over and asked if I knew where he was. I didn't, and went back to sleep.

After a few hours of fitful snoozing, I got up to check out this view I was told about. It did NOT disappoint! In my opinion, it was worth it! See for yourself!

I'll write more about this tour later on...but for now, I have laundry to catch up and I'm too busy enjoying being home, in my robe and slippers, playing with the cat and feeling content in the knowledge that there is excellent toilet paper in both of my bathrooms. See, that's what ya miss on the road: the little things we all take for granted. A hot shower, good toilet paper, your own coffee maker, slippers, etc.  But, if you love to make music, the road is always a joy. Entertainers are lucky people. Our job is to make people happy, one night at a time.

On The Road Again!

So, I'm spending the day doing laundry...nothing particularly new or exciting but...

I'm getting ready for my first real tour in 7 years. Needless to say, I'm excited...yet at the same time, a tad nervous.

For those who haven't been keeping score, I'm going on tour playing guitar with Danny Kay & The Nightlifers, an old school country band - 2 guitars, upright bass, no drums. I'm quite looking forward to it...provided I don't have a heart attack or stroke on the road.

I'm going to miss my girlfriend and my cat. With the exception of the odd weekend here and there, this is the first time my girlfriend and I have spent any kind of time away from each other in our nearly 6 years together. It's going to be weird NOT waking up next to her. I'm going to miss her knee in my spine and her stealing all the covers. I'm going to miss our routines. We get up together in the morning. She usually drinks most of the coffee but always makes more for me. She calls me daily from work. If we're lucky, we get to have dinner together once or twice a week. If not, we'll throw in a frozen pizza or something when she gets home from work. We're both nerdy geeks. No one gets our respective senses of humor like we do. I'm going to miss sitting on the couch, her snuggled up to me, while we watch TV and make fart jokes. I'll miss my cat and her antics. The cat will probably be more concerned that her feeding schedule is going to have to change. She's a tough li'l furball...I'm sure she'll manage.

Then there's me. I am by nature a creature of habit....odd habits, to be sure, but habits all the same. I'll be waking up in strange places, at different times. I'll be surrounded by different people than I'm used to. I won't be eating what I normally do. I've always found it difficult to get into a routine while on tour. As much as I'm looking forward to this, part of me is freaking out and screaming "What the hell have I gotten myself into????"

I figure, if Keith Richards can still handle touring (and he's what? 90?) then I can. Mind you, he travels a bit more stylishly than I do...but what the heck, you only live once...twice if you're me.

I'm very lucky to be afforded this opportunity...and grateful as heck! Having been unemployed and/or underemployed for the past two years, this is just what I needed! A chance to do what I love most, making music, and getting paid for it. I have no delusions about it. The money will suck compared to the amount of time we're putting into it. Driving 300+ miles every day, eating worse than college students, and only really coming alive for a few hours at night...I know it well. Mile upon mile of dead grass, empty fields, and the occasional city. Lots and lots of tail lights. Luckily, musicians tend to share a sick, twisted view of the world. Musicians tend to have good senses of humor. I just need to keep my political and religious views to myself...polite conversation skills.

Touring used to be a lot easier for me. I had money and a good job. I could take a week or two off and still get paid...plus the money I made on the road. This time around, it'll be a matter of budgeting. I'll have to sell my skills nightly, as well as trying to move merchandise (in this case, 2 boxes of CDs that I'm taking with me). Like I said, we're getting paid but won't exactly be making a king's ransom. But, I'll be sending money home and getting bills paid...so I'm happy. Happier still, I'll be able to do it while doing something I love. How many can truly say that?

At my age, this tour will be one of two things: either the start of a new chapter in my life, or the end of a very long chapter. What if it's just too much for me anymore? I have to be honest with myself...my health ain't great. Weakened by 2 bouts of cancer, a heart attack, and a heart condition, this will be a lot of work and will, no doubt, take a lot out of me...but damn, I'm excited!

I'll probably miss my bathtub most. And my girl. And my cat. And my habits. But oh well, as the French say, ' c'est la vie '. I say "BRING IT ON!!!!!!!!!" I'm ready for this!!!!!!

Oh No He Didn't!!!!!!

The headline read "Russell Brand May Have Started A Revolution". Hogmuffins.




The piece regarded Brand being interviewed by BBC's Jeremy Paxman (known for his "forthright and abrasive interviewing style") about being the guest editor for The New Statesman's recent revolution-themed issue.

Paxman asked, and rightly so, what qualifies Brand for this. The interview just goes awry from there. It ends with Brand being dramatically passionate about the state of the world.

OK...so he's lucid enough to understand, like most of the rest of the world, that things need to change. He's vocal about what...but not about how. He rants about social injustice, wealth disparity, etc...but makes no statements regarding how to go about solving the problems.

A friend sent me the article this morning and this was my reply (for the most part):

"What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." So, Russell Brand gets excited and spouts his own "emotional porn" about the elephant in the room and I'm supposed to get excited? Hardly. When/if he actually does something about it, rather than talking about it, let me know. In the meantime, he's just another rich guy looking for a tax loophole. The fact that he refuses to vote shows that he really doesn't give a shit. Sure, I understand his reasons not to...but he forgets that while he's busy NOT voting, there are lots of people out there who are. It's his brand of apathy that has helped create the mess we're in. I hear lots of excuses but no IDEAS. No plans. Blah blah blah. But, because he gets excited, which is supposed to come across as passionate, I'm supposed to believe he has started a revolution? If that was the case, I started a revolution nearly 30 years ago. And I vote! Only difference? He has a news camera in his face and I don't.

No. Russell Brand has not started a revolution. What he has done is add a few seconds to his 15 minutes of fame, which I wish would end soon. He has merely pointed out the obvious...that which any human being can see...provided they open their eyes and look at the world.

Merriam-Webster's dictionary defines "revolution" as: the usually violent attempt by many people to end the rule of one government and start a new one
: a sudden, extreme, or complete change in the way people live, work, etc.

Nope. Mr. Brand has done none of the above nor, I believe, does he think he has. This is just more relatively useless social irritation by the media...the media bought and paid for by those that Brand tirades against.

Think for a moment who Russell Brand is. He's a celebrity. An actor, talk show host and (alleged) comedian. He is also reportedly worth $15million

.While not impossible for a rich person to be a revolutionary, it is unlikely. I often remind myself (and others) that when posed with a seemingly unlikely or confusing situation, ask WHO it benefits.
Brand's statements benefit him. It gives him another notch of notoriety on his belt of fame. His seemingly passionate display broadened no horizons. He merely added "Cap'n Obvious" to the list of characters he's played.

Yes. This world needs revolution. The corporations are happily creating a 21st century US vs. THEM...and money equals power. We've all become slaves to the corporate giants. There are ways to solve these problems...yet no one dares mention them in serious company. The source of power is money. Take that away and you have effectively crippled the global 1%. But as long as they throw nickels and dimes to the poor while lining the pockets of corrupt politicians, it will never happen.
We're all to blame. That's the one thing that Russell Brand DIDN'T mention.

DON'T F*&#ING ASK!!!!!!!!!

Q: How do you ask a musician/entertainer/artist to do shit for FREE for your favorite charity, fundraising entity, non-profit organization?

A: You don't.

Asking us to do for you, what many of us do for a living, for FREE, is an insult to us. Many will appear to take the high road** on this...I, however, will not.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for benefits and charities. Over the years, I've given my money, time, and talents to many. I did so because I chose to...not because I was asked to. I do so because the charities that I contribute my time/money/talent to mean something to me...just like your favorite charitable organization means to you. It doesn't make one better than another. In fact, many are really pretty crooked...but that's a story for another time.

So, a guy calls me today, under the pretense of buying some gear that I have for sale. I can tell he's trying to make small talk...to get on my good side. If you've ever engaged in a business transaction with me, chances are you know that this isn't going to happen. I prefer to get to the point and take care of business.

Mr. Dude starts asking all sorts of ridiculous questions about the gear and I am patiently waiting to answer his questions and get to the point. He mentions "negotiating a price"...I stop him there. There will be no negotiations. My terms were clear from the get go...not open to interpretation or negotiation. Finally...he gets to his point.

He asks if I still do solo shows. He enjoys my solo blues work and would like me to perform at a benefit for his favorite charitable organization....for free. The S.O.B. isn't even seriously asking about the gear he allegedly called about...what he wants is FREE entertainment. I promptly suggested he insert a large, blunt object into his nether regions and attempt to bring himself to climax....just not in those particular words.

This man has just shown me everything I need to know about him, his charity, his opinions of my work, and how much he plans to ask me to do for free. He contacted me under false pretenses, and then tries to get me to work for free. Try that the next time you need a plumber. See just how far it gets you.

Am I saying that people shouldn't give to charities? No. Am I saying that artists shouldn't donate their time/energy/talent to these charities? No. I'm saying don't ask. Most artists, writers, musicians, entertainers-in-general, are very giving, caring, and generous people. We give...and give...and give. I know many of us living doubles lives. We have our art, that we're known for, and our "real job", which for many of my cohorts and colleagues, involves the education/social work/medical fields. A lot of us are drawn to that work. Not all...but a good number. Many artists will freely give their time, effort, and talent to charities that they believe in or are already connected to.

While we would all love to see an end to world hunger, suffering, and the plight of paralytically pretentious pugbabies,(aka The PPP) it's just not feasible to ask us to work for free. Guess what, if that's all that we do, the next charity will be The Broke & Starving Artists of America Who Worked For Free For Too Long Foundation (The BS2A2W3FTLF).

If you are working on behalf of your favorite charitable foundation, do yourself, the community, the charity, and the artists whose work you want for free, a favor. Spend more time on education. Let us know what it is you're doing. Do it all honestly. People WILL be drawn to you then. Heck, I might even offer up a night of free entertainment for your next fundraiser. Just don't ever call me out of the blue, under false pretenses, and then try to guilt trip me.  My number one charity is simply called Mike's Bills. That gets my time, effort, talent, and money before anything else. And as no one else is contributing to Mike's Bills, I tend to get cranky when lying parasites call me, asking me to work for free. That shit don't flush.

** Those that do agree to do FREEBIES do so for the following reasons...and rarely does it involve being charitable.

• The #1 reason is for exposure. These people believe that performing gratis for a crowd of people will attract these same people to the artist's talent in future...in short, they'll start coming to all of their gigs/galleries/what have you. This is most likely not the case. Many times, the artist is politely ignored or worse, asked to turn down...or play something else...or any number of things. Most folks in the fundraising biz know very little about the entertainment biz. These two worlds can often clash.
• The #2 reason is that the artist in question has placed no value whatsoever on his/her time and/or talent. That's fine. But...if you don't place a value on it, no one else will either. Chances are, you're not the fundraiser's first choice. You're probably being given the opportunity to work for free because some else has already turned them down.
• #3...some will perform for free because they actually do care about the charitable foundation. However, in these cases, the artist has usually offered up their services rather than being approached to do so. I have done this in the past...and will probably do so again...provided I find a charity that isn't lining someones pockets. (and please...I don't want to hear how YOUR favorite charity doesn't/wouldn't do that...I know better)

Just in case you're wondering, here's a list of some of the charities that I've been involved with over the years: The American Heart Association, Special Olympics, AIDS Research, The American Cancer Society, Animal Friends, The ASPCA, The RSPCA, Amnesty International, Feed The Children, and many more. See! I'm not a heartless, money-grubbin' SOB! When I can, I donate. When I have time, I donate that. When all else fails, I do my best to educate people as to the concerns of these and many other organizations.

THIS Is Star Trek!

  THIS IS STAR TREK, DAMMIT!!!!!!!!



(l-r Scotty, Chekov, Bones, Nurse Whats-her-face-that-no-one-really-cared-about, THE KIRK, Uhura, Spock, and Mr. "Oh My" his own bad self, Sulu. THIS is Star Trek!)

I've actually had this same discussion a few times in the past week. THIS is Star Trek. The REAL Star Trek, if you will.

"Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before." That was Captain James Tiberius Kirk's monologue at the beginning of every episode, bar two. Jim Kirk is in command of the Enterprise. Learn that. Live it. Love it.

When someone asks me if I like Star Trek (which I do), THIS is what I think of. I am usually horrified when asked the follow up question: "Which one?"

By this, I can only hope that they mean to inquire as to which episode I liked the most...because contrary to popular belief, those other shows just ain't Star Trek.

The REAL Star Trek aired from 1966-1969 and has been in seemingly endless reruns ever since. "Syndication" they call it....I call it reruns. And I love every damned episode of those reruns. I've been watching this pretty much my entire existence and will continue to do so. Hell's bells, I even like the movies. As a kid, I even liked the cartoon version of The Trek!

But what about those other shows/movies?

To me, they ain't Star Trek. OK...I'll give the new movies credit for trying to recreate the original characters for a new generation...however, they're still doing it wrong. (Spock doesn't have a girlfriend, OK. he just doesn't. He gets horny every 7 years. It's called the pon farr. Look it up. ) But...those other shows? AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Next Generation: Next generation of boring rip off, is more like it! It was the 'kinder, gentler' take on the Trek. It was like some Buddhist version of the Trek. Let's be honest, the only reason people watched it was because of Marina Sirtis' rack and the robot. You want to sell sci fi to geeks? Big boobs and robots are a sure fire recipe! The rest of it was irritating as hell. AND THEY CHANGED THE DAMNED KLINGONS!!!!!!!! WTF???????? Worst of all, NO KIRK. NO KIRK FU! NO KIRK F*CKING EVERYTHING IN THE GALAXY! NOT STAR TREK!

Deep Space Nine: It's the Trek's equivalent to a truck stop. An interstellar truck stop. An interstellar truck stop so overwhelmed with corruption and incompetence that the Federation had to step in to run it, lest those damned Ferengi's try to sell it for scrap to the highest bidder. Yes, there were a couple of hot chicks on the show...plus aliens. Recipe #2 for selling sci fi to the geeks: hot chicks and goofy looking aliens. But...not The Enterprise. It wasn't commanded by Kirk. Therefore...NOT Star Trek.

Voyager: What a mess. It was the United Colors of Benetton's dream version of the Trek. Led but what I'm pretty sure was a lesbian (and there's nothing wrong with here in the real world), Capt. Janeway, this ragtag, multi-ethnic bunch of so-called aliens were just a watered-down version of Next Generation. Star Trek Barbie maybe. It was just ultimately unwatchable.  Sooooooooooooo NOT Star Trek....or anything Trek! Just awful. The one couldn't even be blamed on an aging and infirm Roddenberry. I just don't have the words to describe my infinite loathing of this mess.

Younger folks will often argue that they prefer Next Generation (or worse, Voyager). I remind then that they're stupid. There is only ONE Star Trek...and that's the original. Anything else is a pale imitation. The REAL Trek has been likened to cowboys & indians in outer space...AND? So What?! That's why WE who like The Real Star Trek LIKE IT!  Kirk was making up his own damned rules as he went along and we damned well knew it! We admired him for it! He could damned near any being's ass...and on the rare occasions that he took a beating, he took it like a man! And the babes! Kirk got them ALL!!!!!!! For Pete's sake...the REAL Trek had the 1st ever interracial kiss on TV! The show loosely tried to tackle social issues of the day...but in the end, it was the characters that made the show. The friendship between Kirk & Spock. Bones McCoy's infernal cantankerousness! You just knew Scotty was getting liquored up down there in engineering. You knew if a guy was wearing a red shirt and beamed down to the planet...his time was up!

Sorry kids...THIS was the REAL Star Trek. Please don't ever refer to those other shows in the franchise as Star Trek. They're jut not. Like any franchise, it was devised to make money...not entertain. And it did just that. Those that were entertained will probably never admit that they'd rather watch the original...but you know how kids are.

If you don't like this...tough titties. I'm a blogger Jim, not a magician.

That boy had some lungs on him! (or How We Played Carnegie Hall and Lived To Tell About It)

We played a wedding last night. I have, for years, avoided doing so for many reasons. I'm not a wedding singer. I am rarely able to pull off doing 'pretty songs'. If you've ever heard my voice, you know why.

No, I prefer loud, rollicking, screaming-shouting-stomping old blues, rockabilly, rock and roll, country, etc. Not your ideal wedding band.

I am often asked to play weddings. I don't get it? I'm usually asked by someone, at one of our shows, if we can play their wedding. I am normally able to dissuade the question by quoting them a ridiculous price. When price isn't an object, I remind them, repeatedly, that the show they just saw (loud, drunk, and often obnoxious) is what they'll be getting for their wedding. I ask how their grandma or great aunt Gladys will feel about songs referencing 'drinking until one pukes'.  I then tell them, "NO REQUESTS". I don't care if Lionel Richie's "Hello" has special meaning for you. I'm not going to sing it or play it. This usually ends the conversation. When it doesn't, I usually just say "Oh gee...I'm already booked on that date...sorry."

Last night was a little different. It was my good friend and bass player's daughter's wedding. I knew I wasn't getting out of this one. Luckily, his daughter is also a working musician, and understands that the old guys ain't gonna play any sappy stuff. Little did I know, they had a trick up their sleeves.

My friend and bass player Rob, has done an on/off side gig for a couple of years called "Live Band Punk Rock Karaoke". It's rather successful. The band learns as many old punk rock songs as possible and invites the audience members to come up and sing them...living that rock star dream! It's more fun than your standard karaoke, which, at least to me, is painful to endure while someone butchers an already unlistenable pop song or country tune. (Phrasing people, phrasing! Learn it!)

Rob and his daughter, Maura, devised the idea of Live Wedding Band Karaoke. Our drummer, JD, and I, were not thrilled with the idea. First off, this meant learning NEW songs. We never rehearse. Haven't for years. When I write a new song, these guys know my playing well enough that a quick run-through during soundcheck is often enough to suffice. (Rob and I have worked together off/on for over 20 years. JD & I for nearly 10)

Anyhoo, Rob presents me with a list of what might as well been a million songs...mostly old Motown, Stax/Volt numbers. Most had horn parts. We do not have a horn section. (we're a 3 piece band, for those unfamiliar) I started whittling the list down pretty quickly to only songs that we could pull off convincingly. We got it down to about 15 songs. And we learned them. AND we actually rehearsed. A few times!

My understanding was, incorrectly, that certain friends of the bride and groom would pre-choose from these 15 songs, and we would pepper our 2 hour show with them. Fun, right? Easy, right? Guess again.

Knowing a thing or two about behavior and live performance, I wondered how many would chicken out ("Oh gosh! I just CAN'T! I'd be so embarrassed singing in front of people!") As it turned out, there was no pre-choosing. We, instead, had a giant white board with the set list, with blanks by the "wedding songs' for people to add their name, so we could call them up. Only a handful of folks did.

One guy in particular, Jeremiah, did 3 songs...and let me tell you, that white kid has a set of lungs on him! Damn! To say that I was impressed would be an understatement. He knocked his songs out with a level of skill and professionalism that I haven't experienced in a long time! We decided to toy with him a bit, and dragged the songs out, switched them around a bit, and occasionally altered the groove...but there was no shaking this kid! Damn, he's GOOD!

Jeremiah, if you ever read this...do the world a favor and sing more! You have a gift!

What's the old joke? 'How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!' Well, we can say, once again and without lying, that we played Carnegie Hall. To those unfamiliar with the history, Carnegie Hall is NOT just a fabled venue in NYC. Especially around the Greater Pittsburgh Area, there are a number of them. The one we played last night is The Carnegie Music Hall, part of the Carnegie Museum in the Oakland section of the city. If you've never been there, the place is beautiful...although at the same time, an acoustic nightmare. The main hall, is an auditorium style set up, while the banquet hall, where we were, is a 2 story, marble mausoleum type room of immense beauty.  I (almost) felt out of place playing there. It felt (almost) like we were defiling the beauty of the room with our loud, crazy rock and roll. Until soundcheck, that is. That's when we realized that it was going to be a battle between us and the room. With the incredibly high, arched ceiling, and all of that damned marble, plus the sheer size of the room, it was echo city. All 3 of us in the band have been sound techs at one point or other. Robert, being the most knowledgeable, and being the father of the bride, was in charge of the PA system. He rented a beauty of a system and got his friend Mario to run it for us. Mario did an admirable job. No squeaks, squonks or hums...which is amazing as we had to push some extra volume in order to fight the overwhelming natural reverb of that room.

Couple all of this with 'guest singers' who may/may not be or professional-level skill, this could've been a nightmare. Thankfully, it was not. Maura & Travis' wedding went off without a hitch. It sounded as good as it looked...and that's saying something!

Congratulations you crazy kids!



Playing between the marble pillars (photo JD Dauer)

This is a good view of the room (photo JD Dauer)





 

MM & TLT practicing at the other Carnegie Hall (circa 2002)

As a footnote, I'd like to add this: I said before that we have played Carnegie Hall many times...and this is not a lie. One of the original Carnegie Halls, now the New Hazlett Theater in North Side, was for some time, our rehearsal space! We played there every week! In fact, the back cover photo from our "Back From The Dead" CD was shot there. I once played a memorial service, of sorts, there. One of the many featured artists was a classical violinist from Duquesne University, Al Grishman. When my friend Nick was studying there, 30 years ago, Grishman was one of his music professors. Grishman and I got to talking backstage at the show and joked that one of us would have to call Nick to tell him that we played a show together at Carnegie Hall! Now there's one for the Weird Record Books!