I woke up this morning to the sounds of rain droplets demanding my attention. They were calling out to me with all of the intent in the world, so fierce and loud. Like hunters in for the kill. I loved it.
The sun is coming out now... I've been taken back to a story that my mother told me when I was old enough to retain stories. What I am about to write about has nothing to do with what I was originally going to write about when I pressed the 'power' button on the HP Pavilion. My original thought had something to do with spaceship days when you and I were young. The way we would crown ourselves... Well, maybe the new topic has something to do with the original topic.
Here we go.
Today, I am celebrating another year of birth. A year older and maybe even a year wiser... Not sure. It goes something like this... Many Cheshire Cat moons ago, on a rainy-turned-sunny Monday at 1:58pm, I cried out and said "hey" to the attending staff at Harris Hospital in Ft. Worth, TX. Seven pounds. Thirteen ounces. Nineteen point five inches long. I learned these "vital" facts approximately 5 months ago.
Speaking of stats and measurements... This is a reflection on something I overheard at a grocery store two weeks ago (between a dude and someone who was clearly not his wife or significant other). I was looking for the perfect box of Wheat Thins. Because of what I heard and without going into great detail... I felt like... To me, it wasn't that far from the conversations that "probably" occur at a cock fight. "Hear where he was born and how much he weighed? That rooster brings some heat... Two ounces less and he would be at home walking around with the family dog, keeping the hen house company..." I realize that this sounds cynical and it probably is, but I have witnessed these kinds of conversations and there in the aisle, I was a bit bothered by it all... I call it how I see it...
Side note: I am not a parent. Not yet. If I become that kind of parent, you have my permission to put me in a Figure Four Leg Lock, Rick Flair-style... Wherever I am...
When we were born, our sole purpose was to live. That hasn't changed... Our way. The best way we know how... If we're lucky, we have solid parents or at least one who gets "it." I appreciate kids and I love watching them grow... In their own way. Not by measurements or sizes or percentiles... While they are important, they shouldn't be everything... I know that they're not, but the two that were keeping me from my Wheat Thins seemed to live their lives by this odd code. Everyone's entitled... Could be a phase... Just let the little kid live and embrace the the fact that they will one day make their mark. They will get there... Leave them alone.
A day older... I feel good.
To my Mom & Dad... Thank you for putting the ingredients together to make me... I owe so much to you.
I still miss Chuy.
First song of the day... "The Blue Flashing Light" by Travis. A true gem.
It's Thursday morning and LOST is on my mind. Last night's episode was rich.
Off to measure my height and weight...
Bring it on!
................bsm*
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
"crayons & houses"
She turned the music down; the kids listened for the assignment.
"Try to use as many shades of red as you can, but leave one house free of color. Then when you're done, pass it to your left, but keep your head down... Let your neighbor choose what color it should be... Just concentrate on your neighborhoods. If it is passed to you and you're not done with your houses, stop and pass what you have... Don't forget. One house. No color. And in 40 minutes, I'll collect your work and we'll compare... Every house should have a color. One trophy. Go."
Lloyd raised his hand... "Why does my paper have one house on it? Pinky has five. And Dougie has seven. Oh and what song was that? Can you rewind it please?"
bsm*
"Try to use as many shades of red as you can, but leave one house free of color. Then when you're done, pass it to your left, but keep your head down... Let your neighbor choose what color it should be... Just concentrate on your neighborhoods. If it is passed to you and you're not done with your houses, stop and pass what you have... Don't forget. One house. No color. And in 40 minutes, I'll collect your work and we'll compare... Every house should have a color. One trophy. Go."
Lloyd raised his hand... "Why does my paper have one house on it? Pinky has five. And Dougie has seven. Oh and what song was that? Can you rewind it please?"
bsm*
Monday, April 27, 2009
If you've been... then you know... 1994.
Finally, with some strength, I am ready to say a few words about this... On the 19th of April, I lost a beloved family member. His battle with congestive heart failure was over. He went out his way, on his terms. Fighting for us. For me. His name was "Jonas." We called him "Chuy."
What can I can say that hasn't already been said about this little guy? He had a strong run and the memories he gave us are infinite. Jonas was special in many ways and looking back, he represented so many things much bigger than himself. He represented an era, an ideology and a different way of seeing life in black and white. I believe this to be true.
I bought Jonas in Ft. Worth, TX, but he would live his whole life in Benbrook. He belonged there as he gave the town a bigger personality. I paid $55.00 for him... A small price to pay for something so genuine and perfect.
Jonas was a regular at "The Terrace" and he belonged to an exclusive club whose members saw the moon as something different. If you're reading this, you know who you are... Of course, if you've been to "The Terrace," then you know what I am referring to... I gave him the name, Jonas, because...
His presence could never be denied and his spirit even gave my eyes a different kind of sparkle. Some of that sparkle is gone now... He had this kind of effect on everyone he met. His memory is meant to be cherished and celebrated... Much like his life was...
I'm thinking about his 2nd birthday party. This memory always makes me smile, too, because he wasn't just another dog. I remember when a six-degrees-kind-of-stranger showed up with a stuffed toy asking how much the cover charge was and if the first keg had floated yet... I told him that we just tapped the 2nd keg and that there was no cover, but toys were appreciated only to be donated to a shelter. He seemed fine with this and even asked where he could find Chuy to say "Happy Birthday." I asked him how he knew about the fiesta and he said that "everybody" knew that Chuy was having a birthday party. Puzzled (not really), I thanked him and pointed him in the right direction. I also remember him commenting on the Slush Puppie cup that I had in my left hand. I said, "No, these are only for Slush Puppies. Sorry, dude. You get the red cups. That's Chuy's call tonight." I still have those cups.
I miss him so much...
For those of you who knew him, thank you for letting him into your lives... Just know that his heart was big enough for all of you.
I'm raising my glass to you now, Chuy. Save me a spot on the pitch, okay?
A good dog, such a good dog...
bsm*
What can I can say that hasn't already been said about this little guy? He had a strong run and the memories he gave us are infinite. Jonas was special in many ways and looking back, he represented so many things much bigger than himself. He represented an era, an ideology and a different way of seeing life in black and white. I believe this to be true.
I bought Jonas in Ft. Worth, TX, but he would live his whole life in Benbrook. He belonged there as he gave the town a bigger personality. I paid $55.00 for him... A small price to pay for something so genuine and perfect.
Jonas was a regular at "The Terrace" and he belonged to an exclusive club whose members saw the moon as something different. If you're reading this, you know who you are... Of course, if you've been to "The Terrace," then you know what I am referring to... I gave him the name, Jonas, because...
His presence could never be denied and his spirit even gave my eyes a different kind of sparkle. Some of that sparkle is gone now... He had this kind of effect on everyone he met. His memory is meant to be cherished and celebrated... Much like his life was...
I'm thinking about his 2nd birthday party. This memory always makes me smile, too, because he wasn't just another dog. I remember when a six-degrees-kind-of-stranger showed up with a stuffed toy asking how much the cover charge was and if the first keg had floated yet... I told him that we just tapped the 2nd keg and that there was no cover, but toys were appreciated only to be donated to a shelter. He seemed fine with this and even asked where he could find Chuy to say "Happy Birthday." I asked him how he knew about the fiesta and he said that "everybody" knew that Chuy was having a birthday party. Puzzled (not really), I thanked him and pointed him in the right direction. I also remember him commenting on the Slush Puppie cup that I had in my left hand. I said, "No, these are only for Slush Puppies. Sorry, dude. You get the red cups. That's Chuy's call tonight." I still have those cups.
I miss him so much...
For those of you who knew him, thank you for letting him into your lives... Just know that his heart was big enough for all of you.
I'm raising my glass to you now, Chuy. Save me a spot on the pitch, okay?
A good dog, such a good dog...
bsm*
Friday, April 24, 2009
David & Louie were right.
/ Could have had a chance to get out of this wreck. / The time that you came and the day that you left. / Could have had a chance... / Could have had a chance. / Never thought I could make it this far. / With a dent in my soul and a hole in my heart. / Never thought I could... / Never thought I could. // But when the lights are turning 'round and wheels are rolling on the ground... / That day I'll burn this whole place down. / When the circus comes to town. // You left your name carved on a tree. / You scratched mine out right in front of me. / Didn't mean that much... / Didn't mean that much. // But when the lights are turning 'round and wheels are rolling on the ground... / That day I'll burn this whole place down. / When the circus comes to town. // I'll scratch your name out on that tree. / I'll chase your heart right out of me. / Doesn't mean that much... / Doesn't mean that much. // But when the lights are turning 'round and wheels are rolling on the ground... / That day I'll burn this whole place down. / When the circus comes to town. /
Yep, David and Louie had it right. Perfect right from the start. Thanks, guys... Maybe next time, huh?
/ bsm* /
Yep, David and Louie had it right. Perfect right from the start. Thanks, guys... Maybe next time, huh?
/ bsm* /
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Untitled No. 7
On past experience: "He who never makes mistakes never did anything that's worthy."
Lucky Numbers 24, 15, 55, 4, 10, 5
Apple
- from a fortune cookie that I cracked open (but did not eat) around 9:33pm on Thursday, September 25th, 2008 at the P.F. Chang's located in the Bel Mar area of Lakewood, CO.
Lucky Numbers 24, 15, 55, 4, 10, 5
Apple
- from a fortune cookie that I cracked open (but did not eat) around 9:33pm on Thursday, September 25th, 2008 at the P.F. Chang's located in the Bel Mar area of Lakewood, CO.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The grass is greener where it rains.
Just thinking about the forecast... Looks like rain is, once again, upon us... Can kind of smell it coming my way.
It's perfect outside, I think. Spent a little bit of time thinking about the time of year and how fast it seems to be moving... It's the middle of the month and we're pushing on through to the other side of the 2009. May will cruise in, June will wink and smile, July will nod and throw a peace sign our way and August will dance around the Texas sun staring right at me. And... You get the picture.
Life moves fast.
Time can be a friend. Time can also be an enemy. Time is just a word, I suppose, but it's a powerful word that seems to get bigger and stronger as we grow older... It has more control than I ever gave it credit for... It demands respect and requires our full attention. Only sometimes, however. I can't give in to time. I can't give in to a possible enemy. Not now. The battle against time, that frantic race against time, the pace it takes to keep up... Who's keeping track? Who has the stopwatch?
Day by day. Gotta take it day by day... No real need to rush into what's coming our way. Maximize today. Stretch it, make it last. Don't forget to wave...
Just some random musings... Whatever, y'know?
Oh... I have a date with U2 on the 12th of October. I made my reservations today. To that, I drink.
Take care, goodnight. Tick tock.
It's perfect outside, I think. Spent a little bit of time thinking about the time of year and how fast it seems to be moving... It's the middle of the month and we're pushing on through to the other side of the 2009. May will cruise in, June will wink and smile, July will nod and throw a peace sign our way and August will dance around the Texas sun staring right at me. And... You get the picture.
Life moves fast.
Time can be a friend. Time can also be an enemy. Time is just a word, I suppose, but it's a powerful word that seems to get bigger and stronger as we grow older... It has more control than I ever gave it credit for... It demands respect and requires our full attention. Only sometimes, however. I can't give in to time. I can't give in to a possible enemy. Not now. The battle against time, that frantic race against time, the pace it takes to keep up... Who's keeping track? Who has the stopwatch?
Day by day. Gotta take it day by day... No real need to rush into what's coming our way. Maximize today. Stretch it, make it last. Don't forget to wave...
Just some random musings... Whatever, y'know?
Oh... I have a date with U2 on the 12th of October. I made my reservations today. To that, I drink.
Take care, goodnight. Tick tock.
Friday, April 10, 2009
AD 33? PAAS? Pigs?
It's Good Friday and I want to say this much about the mythical Easter Bunny. Like many people, I still challenge the notion that it has to be a rabbit. Like most people, I dig rabbits, hares, cottontails named Peter, jackrabbits, Bugs Bunny...
And I know that there is a great deal of folklore around the idea of these creatures laying eggs and delivering them (in assorted colors - thank you, PAAS and thank you, vinegar) to little kids. Or the rabbit (or parent or weird uncle) would hide them so the children could play 'hide-n-seek' with the eggs with baskets around their arms...
Speaking of baskets, how is it that the translucent green "grass" that the local five and dimes push always ends up in the strangest places in any given household? And it magically appears throughout the whole year? It shows up everywhere... In the closet no one is allowed to open. The attic. Behind the washing machine. Sock drawer. Under the bed. And...
ANYWAY.
Some eggs even contain candy, pocket change, a single Washington, or in some neighborhoods, a crisp $20 bill. Was this Peter Cottontail's idea? Maybe. Probably has nothing to do with Christianity and the purpose behind it... I suppose it's sad that Easter can be watered down, too.
The hunt was always fun and I remember enjoying everything about collecting little prizes in my backyard or at the closest park where people celebrated Easter by eating massive amounts of BBQ and watermelon. Some people even made a point to wear yellow to church. Anything in the pastel family would work because matching the dyed eggs was obviously important. I do recall wearing a Cincinnati Bengals t-shirt one year when I was in elementary school. Not entirely sure why, but I did like the new helmets. Then and only then did I like the helmets.
Moving on, this is my take on the Easter Bunny. I was never sold on him (or her - because she laid eggs) and I always asked why it had to be a rabbit. No one could ever tell me why. Not a single adult came to the plate.
So I pleaded with the ones who would listen to me and I asked this very important question: "Why can't it be a Fat Easter Pig? His name can be 'Paul.' That's from the bible!" I was a little dude and I wanted answers... People couldn't even tell me that having an Easter pig was out of the question. And I never bought into their Santa Claus reasoning... That's something different, at least, for me. Like St. Nick can be replaced... Never. No go.
I still campaign for Paul, the Fat Easter Pig. Looking back, he doesn't even need to have a first name. He just needs to wear comfortable boots. Lots of yards to visit, y'know...
Time's up. Gotta run.
Cheers. Happy Easter to you. To everyone...
bsm*
And I know that there is a great deal of folklore around the idea of these creatures laying eggs and delivering them (in assorted colors - thank you, PAAS and thank you, vinegar) to little kids. Or the rabbit (or parent or weird uncle) would hide them so the children could play 'hide-n-seek' with the eggs with baskets around their arms...
Speaking of baskets, how is it that the translucent green "grass" that the local five and dimes push always ends up in the strangest places in any given household? And it magically appears throughout the whole year? It shows up everywhere... In the closet no one is allowed to open. The attic. Behind the washing machine. Sock drawer. Under the bed. And...
ANYWAY.
Some eggs even contain candy, pocket change, a single Washington, or in some neighborhoods, a crisp $20 bill. Was this Peter Cottontail's idea? Maybe. Probably has nothing to do with Christianity and the purpose behind it... I suppose it's sad that Easter can be watered down, too.
The hunt was always fun and I remember enjoying everything about collecting little prizes in my backyard or at the closest park where people celebrated Easter by eating massive amounts of BBQ and watermelon. Some people even made a point to wear yellow to church. Anything in the pastel family would work because matching the dyed eggs was obviously important. I do recall wearing a Cincinnati Bengals t-shirt one year when I was in elementary school. Not entirely sure why, but I did like the new helmets. Then and only then did I like the helmets.
Moving on, this is my take on the Easter Bunny. I was never sold on him (or her - because she laid eggs) and I always asked why it had to be a rabbit. No one could ever tell me why. Not a single adult came to the plate.
So I pleaded with the ones who would listen to me and I asked this very important question: "Why can't it be a Fat Easter Pig? His name can be 'Paul.' That's from the bible!" I was a little dude and I wanted answers... People couldn't even tell me that having an Easter pig was out of the question. And I never bought into their Santa Claus reasoning... That's something different, at least, for me. Like St. Nick can be replaced... Never. No go.
I still campaign for Paul, the Fat Easter Pig. Looking back, he doesn't even need to have a first name. He just needs to wear comfortable boots. Lots of yards to visit, y'know...
Time's up. Gotta run.
Cheers. Happy Easter to you. To everyone...
bsm*
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Kelly green SDRE wristbands for hire...
On the hazy drive home this evening, I came across an old friend. And I feel like taking this time to fill you in on said friend.
Circa 1994, May timeframe. "Diary" by Sunny Day Real Estate. If you own it, you know. If you don't, there's still time.
It opened up more than a mind. It ushered in something terribly special for me. To this day, I still can't explain it. I've tried. Some care because they were there... Others just pretend to care... Some even listen with intent. Some listen because it could be more interesting than the last "Friends" rerun on TBS. I don't mind. Well, sometimes, I do...
In 1997, I was looking for answers... For inspiration. For what exactly, I'm not entirely sure, but I could name a few... So, I pieced together some of my favorite lyrics from the eleven songs that made up "Diary." Lyrics, lines that lasted... In the running order of the songs, from #1 to #11. I kept them with me as they happened to tell a story, a story that would live inside my head for years to come. They just seemed to fit... It just happened that way. My mission in doing this was to, over time, take random samples from eleven sentences from assorted pieces that I had worked on over the years and combine them to (hopefully) tell a different story all together. Kind of like an exercise to myself to be a bit more creative with eleven passages that would never see the light of day anyway. To give them a better life. My words hold little water compared to what Jeremy Enigk did with "Diary," but my non-long player, "Rooftops to Duane St." had its moments. Not really.
Here are the first 11 from which I pieced together from the lyric sheet in 1997:
"...and brave songs disappear to the secret. where words are not and feeling remains. an image of your face traced in white sand. my clothes were damp. caught a glimpse of truth. my breathing is leaving after yours. see how they run. buried in me lies a child's toy. help unchain this memory. the rain was there to wash away my tears. no words to explain." - Diary, 1994
And here are my 11 lines that were taken from my own little diary:
"words on the page fading in and out of her lips. unsettled, but content with the brief moment of clarity. his bible dreams clustered under the pillow. the sea of tranquility is flooding their sky with light. hope humming from the chapel around the corner. her gown was just long enough to hide her secrets. behind the melodic mask of wine. false gestures from guests, unwelcome. truth coming from courage born out of fear. everything, every piece glued together with tears and dollar bills. the parade procession pointed them to the other road, headlamps on..." - Rooftops to Duane St., 1997, 1998, 2006
So there you have it... Maybe there is something there, maybe not. Nothing major, nothing riveting, just something from me to you as we are heading towards another weekend. Incidentally, the last line in my eleven was written on the back of a fax cover sheet. A short interlude of a short, short story about a couple of brothers and an October carnival... I was at my desk at work and I wanted to finish what I had started so many years ago. Seemed like the right thing to do... You see, "Rooftops to Duane St." was only comprised of 10 pieces of whatever... I always needed an eleventh... Odd as I wrote it out staring at Fresca citrus soft drink. I've never had the pleasure... I'm missing out on something special, I think... Come to think of it, I still don't know what a bowl of Wheaties tastes like...
So long for now.
Circa 1994, May timeframe. "Diary" by Sunny Day Real Estate. If you own it, you know. If you don't, there's still time.
It opened up more than a mind. It ushered in something terribly special for me. To this day, I still can't explain it. I've tried. Some care because they were there... Others just pretend to care... Some even listen with intent. Some listen because it could be more interesting than the last "Friends" rerun on TBS. I don't mind. Well, sometimes, I do...
In 1997, I was looking for answers... For inspiration. For what exactly, I'm not entirely sure, but I could name a few... So, I pieced together some of my favorite lyrics from the eleven songs that made up "Diary." Lyrics, lines that lasted... In the running order of the songs, from #1 to #11. I kept them with me as they happened to tell a story, a story that would live inside my head for years to come. They just seemed to fit... It just happened that way. My mission in doing this was to, over time, take random samples from eleven sentences from assorted pieces that I had worked on over the years and combine them to (hopefully) tell a different story all together. Kind of like an exercise to myself to be a bit more creative with eleven passages that would never see the light of day anyway. To give them a better life. My words hold little water compared to what Jeremy Enigk did with "Diary," but my non-long player, "Rooftops to Duane St." had its moments. Not really.
Here are the first 11 from which I pieced together from the lyric sheet in 1997:
"...and brave songs disappear to the secret. where words are not and feeling remains. an image of your face traced in white sand. my clothes were damp. caught a glimpse of truth. my breathing is leaving after yours. see how they run. buried in me lies a child's toy. help unchain this memory. the rain was there to wash away my tears. no words to explain." - Diary, 1994
And here are my 11 lines that were taken from my own little diary:
"words on the page fading in and out of her lips. unsettled, but content with the brief moment of clarity. his bible dreams clustered under the pillow. the sea of tranquility is flooding their sky with light. hope humming from the chapel around the corner. her gown was just long enough to hide her secrets. behind the melodic mask of wine. false gestures from guests, unwelcome. truth coming from courage born out of fear. everything, every piece glued together with tears and dollar bills. the parade procession pointed them to the other road, headlamps on..." - Rooftops to Duane St., 1997, 1998, 2006
So there you have it... Maybe there is something there, maybe not. Nothing major, nothing riveting, just something from me to you as we are heading towards another weekend. Incidentally, the last line in my eleven was written on the back of a fax cover sheet. A short interlude of a short, short story about a couple of brothers and an October carnival... I was at my desk at work and I wanted to finish what I had started so many years ago. Seemed like the right thing to do... You see, "Rooftops to Duane St." was only comprised of 10 pieces of whatever... I always needed an eleventh... Odd as I wrote it out staring at Fresca citrus soft drink. I've never had the pleasure... I'm missing out on something special, I think... Come to think of it, I still don't know what a bowl of Wheaties tastes like...
So long for now.
Friday, April 3, 2009
from Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille
"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You only have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatsoever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others..."
Thursday, April 2, 2009
My lariat, my dignity, my lunch.
I woke up this morning and started flipping some channels... I landed on Channel 332. I came across something shocking... At least, it was "shocking" to me. Something I have never seen... I found myself watching the last half of a video that was equal parts disturbing and fascinating, but in a sad, sad, world-could-possibly-end kind of way. Utterly shocking...
This is my take.
I had just woken up, but as I focused in, my eyes found themselves fixated on several people who were frolicking around on screen. Anything anyone has ever seen in a big budgeted music video was captured here in full effect from:
a) Too-cool-for-you convertible cars (think Cadillac & limousine)
b) Scantily-clad women & cheerleaders & more scantily-clad women
c) Blow up dolls (?)
d) Males and females smiling as they fake-sing (don't do that, ever)
e) Fur coats
f) EVERYONE wearing sunglasses
g) A marching band
h) Assorted groupies who won tickets to be in the shoot
i) A midget (or little person) holding something - in this case, twirling an umbrella
j) I really could go on and on and on...
The song that accompanied this video? "Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)" by Big & Rich.
Huh? Wha? Who? How? Ba, ba? Moo, moo?
Let's dig in...
To start, I've heard these clowns before, but mostly as background noise, y'know, the kind of noise people hear at any event that ends with "-fest." Or at any bar that has a poor music supervisor...
I understand that from 2004 to present day, this song speaks to millions of Americans who enjoy their share of country, rock and hip-hop. And humor. I also understand that these two "artists" are accomplished songwriters and have written many songs for a number of popular singers today. Their list of collaborations with other "superstars" is also something to marvel at... This does not surprise me, but it does scare me.
I'm not even sure which one is Big and which one is Rich, but by gauging the size of the jaw and chin of the blonde one, I would have to guess that he is "Big." Just spit-balling here, but I am 98% certain that you could house an entire cheese tray on this guy's chin. To clarify the volume, I'm talking about the kind of assorted cheeses and crackers that would feed an overly popular 23 yr old expectant mommy's baby shower on the Saturday before Easter. Yeah, I know... Precious.
In the video, Big & Rich whore themselves around with obnoxious Ted Nugent grins... With every nationality surrounding them, supporting their (more-than-likely) bachelorette party "anthem." Well, for any party, really, but "bachelorette" seems to fit my mood right now... Whatever. Everyone is happy and the smiles are bigger than the states of Texas and Tennessee put together. Even the dude slinging the imaginary lasso around while leading the marching band is having the time of his life, like he was being tickled for the first time. Ever! Every single person in the video is parading around like they just made the Top 12 on American Idol.
Is this all it takes? This is what people want to see? Really?
Who is directing this motley crew of jesters? Who's responsible? Who's in charge? Why does the little person have a mean scowl on his face? What is he trying to tell me? Who's on patrol? Is this banned in Europe? Why isn't is banned here? Has Rob Dickinson seen this? Why do I have this urge to start a support group? For what? I don't know...
It's amazing that this garbage gets manufactured and I haven't even gotten to the song yet... Good grief, the song... The title! I can't even go there...
I've wasted a perfectly good post on this and I'm losing focus. Because I am starving right now, I'll stop here.
So, in closing, Big & Rich took something away from me this morning... To an extent, I feel violated... It was my fault.
I need a shower.
Later, bsm*
This is my take.
I had just woken up, but as I focused in, my eyes found themselves fixated on several people who were frolicking around on screen. Anything anyone has ever seen in a big budgeted music video was captured here in full effect from:
a) Too-cool-for-you convertible cars (think Cadillac & limousine)
b) Scantily-clad women & cheerleaders & more scantily-clad women
c) Blow up dolls (?)
d) Males and females smiling as they fake-sing (don't do that, ever)
e) Fur coats
f) EVERYONE wearing sunglasses
g) A marching band
h) Assorted groupies who won tickets to be in the shoot
i) A midget (or little person) holding something - in this case, twirling an umbrella
j) I really could go on and on and on...
The song that accompanied this video? "Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)" by Big & Rich.
Huh? Wha? Who? How? Ba, ba? Moo, moo?
Let's dig in...
To start, I've heard these clowns before, but mostly as background noise, y'know, the kind of noise people hear at any event that ends with "-fest." Or at any bar that has a poor music supervisor...
I understand that from 2004 to present day, this song speaks to millions of Americans who enjoy their share of country, rock and hip-hop. And humor. I also understand that these two "artists" are accomplished songwriters and have written many songs for a number of popular singers today. Their list of collaborations with other "superstars" is also something to marvel at... This does not surprise me, but it does scare me.
I'm not even sure which one is Big and which one is Rich, but by gauging the size of the jaw and chin of the blonde one, I would have to guess that he is "Big." Just spit-balling here, but I am 98% certain that you could house an entire cheese tray on this guy's chin. To clarify the volume, I'm talking about the kind of assorted cheeses and crackers that would feed an overly popular 23 yr old expectant mommy's baby shower on the Saturday before Easter. Yeah, I know... Precious.
In the video, Big & Rich whore themselves around with obnoxious Ted Nugent grins... With every nationality surrounding them, supporting their (more-than-likely) bachelorette party "anthem." Well, for any party, really, but "bachelorette" seems to fit my mood right now... Whatever. Everyone is happy and the smiles are bigger than the states of Texas and Tennessee put together. Even the dude slinging the imaginary lasso around while leading the marching band is having the time of his life, like he was being tickled for the first time. Ever! Every single person in the video is parading around like they just made the Top 12 on American Idol.
Is this all it takes? This is what people want to see? Really?
Who is directing this motley crew of jesters? Who's responsible? Who's in charge? Why does the little person have a mean scowl on his face? What is he trying to tell me? Who's on patrol? Is this banned in Europe? Why isn't is banned here? Has Rob Dickinson seen this? Why do I have this urge to start a support group? For what? I don't know...
It's amazing that this garbage gets manufactured and I haven't even gotten to the song yet... Good grief, the song... The title! I can't even go there...
I've wasted a perfectly good post on this and I'm losing focus. Because I am starving right now, I'll stop here.
So, in closing, Big & Rich took something away from me this morning... To an extent, I feel violated... It was my fault.
I need a shower.
Later, bsm*
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