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

I allegedly have a mess of kids out there in this world. Sadly, I never got to be a dad to any of them. I think I would've been a good one. An ex girlfriend's daughter used to occasionally call me daddy...and let me tell ya, that kid grew up into an amazing young lady! I can only hope that the limited time we spent together had some miniscule cause & effect relationship that led to her awesomeness. (Her mom's genes probably helped too) My dad is an amazing guy. He can be a grump and a SOB at times (like father, like son) but having spent 50+ years as a cardiologist, working 6-7 day weeks, 12-18 hours a day, can do that to a man. Anyone that I know who has met the man, always speaks highly of him. When I was in a coma back in 2002, I suffered some brain damage and lost a lot of early memories. My childhood is a mass of random memories and second hand stories. One thing I do remember is my dad always working and saving lives. That's a tough act to follow! I knew b...

Soooooooooooooooooo...........an old friend defriended me on Facebooger tonight because of a dead baby joke. Really? Really! I was informed that I have neither soul nor class. Personally, I think I have both in abundance. What I may lack is a boring, overly-sensitive sense of humor. My friend was offended (for personal reasons). I understand her reasons. However, to explode and become vitriolic with me over a joke denotes that the problem isn't with me, my sense of humor, or the joke in question. Sure...the joke was gross and perhaps tasteless...but most jokes (that I find humorous) are. Most of my friends share the same sense of humor. Most importantly, if you don't like it...don't read it! Don't tell me, or imply in any way whatsoever, what I can and cannot say. My Facebooger page is private...between me and my friends and family. If someone who has known me for almost 18 years hasn't figured out yet that I am who I am, then perhaps they've been too bus...

I sold a guitar today. This, in and of itself, is nothing unusual. I've sold dozens of guitars over the years. Some I bought for no reason other than to sell. Some, I sold to upgrade my gear. This one, I sold because I desperately needed money. Luckily, I sold it to a dear friend. I know that she and her husband will take great care of it and show it love. It will be played. It will be enjoyed and hopefully give joy to those who play it as well as those who hear it being played. This guitar is special. It's not the fanciest guitar in the world nor is it the most expensive. It's just a guitar...but it holds within it's wooden body much magic. In the years that it's been in my possession, it's been played by some well-known musicians and by some amazing players...as well as by unknowns and rudimentary players. I'll never tell who all has played it. That would risk the guitar being placed in it's case and not being played. This particular instrument was m...

Do you want to know what offends me? People who are offended by almost anything! If you see something on TV that offends you, change the channel or switch the damned thing off. If someone says something that offends you...IGNORE THEM! Something offensive in a book/magazine/newspaper? Don't read it! Something offends you on the goddamned internet? Leave the site! Seriously...people today are so fucking hypersensitive about everything. I wish   could blame social media...but I can't. It started long before Facebook or Twitter or even MySpace. It all started with the term "political correctness". I first heard that ridiculous term back in the 1980s. Before that, people just attempted to be polite and use some common sense. Certain things weren't said in polite company or in mixed company (meaning you didn't say FUCK in front of the minister's missus). There was an unwritten code among people of any given society that certain things were said/written/imp...

Many of you have asked why I'm planning a long break from performing. First off, thanks for the concern. This decision has been a while coming. As most of you know, the past few years have been harder than they should've been. I finally made a conscious decision that, for at least the foreseeable future, I need to concentrate on work, family, and home...mostly work. I was unemployed for all of 2012. While I got by OK, a lot of bills didn't get the attention they craved. I had to park my HoopDeVille and start taking the bus. I've been OK with all of that. But...after being laid off a few weeks ago with no chance of unemployment benefits, I've been forced to take drastic measures. On the positive side, I now have a job again. While neither glamorous nor particularly challenging, it's a job. The pay is decent and offers lots of overtime. 6-7 day work weeks will not be unusual. Factor in that I'll be working the afternoon shift (2:30p - 10:30p), all the way ...

There comes a time in every one's life where they have to stop blaming others for their unhappiness. Sure, pop psychology says it's OK to blame your parents for your upbringing, or to blame the bullies who picked on you, or the ice cream man who touched your secret no no place. But seriously...at some point, one must own up to their own life. If you had a bad childhood...I'm sorry to hear it. So did I. So did most of the people I know. Few of them are total and complete emotional wrecks. Why? Because they took ownership of their own life. Life is hard. There are NO guarantees except eventual death. (Now doesn't that sound just cheery!) But...it's what YOU make of YOUR life that counts. To sit back and whine and complain and mope and bitch about how life and everyone in it has done you wrong is just counterproductive. If for some reason or other you are incapable of coming to grips with life on your own, get a therapist. Or a dog. Or both. If the therapist a...

I am once again in search of a proper dive bar. This is becoming a lot harder than it should be. One would think that with our economy as crappy as it is, dive bars would be doing great business. If they are, no one knows about it! Which could be the secret to their success. Allow me to take a minute and give my definition of a dive bar. It's not the same as a shit hole. A dive bar was probably once a nice place. Years and years of drinking has gone on in there. Time has taken it's toll. The regulars are old. The place is dimly lit. The booze is cheap. There should be a long, dark (preferably) oak bar with, if possible, a hand-carved (oak) back bar. The bar stools should be well worn. There should be booths. Leather or Naugahyde. A patterned tin ceiling is a nice touch but not a must. Same with cool floor tiling.  The bartender should be old and cranky...not necessarily mean but perhaps nursing some lingering ailment...like lumbago. Nothing life threatening! The barkeep sho...