Archive for August, 2015

Dusty Rhodes or ee cummings

August 28th, 2015



Livin’ in the promise land, being the best you can

that’s what it’s all about

in and of Fulton County Stadium in Atlanta, Georgia

/The Great American Bash/

In this year of 1986 Miss Liberty, livin’ in the promise land

Dusty Rhodes faces his sternest test

because no matter how much a fever pitch the Great American Dream provides for the people

throughout television land

throughout arena land

throughout wrestling land

there is one thing that stands out in the mind of millions of people throughout this country


whether you like wresting or not does. not. matter.

Ole Anderson and Dusty Rhodes have to somewhere, sometime, some place


that has (for years) driven this inside of me to be as bad I can

to be mean, to be ugly, to be nasty

to get riled, dirty

and Ole Anderson you’re on your last leg

this might be the swan song

if you will

And like I said before if it be that way?let it be

(nobody interfere)

me and you

The Four Horsemen?

they need to ride on another planet

cause I reserve the stratosphere for me and you

and there aint nobody else on the stratosphere


on the end of the lightning bolt that crashes through this great

v         a          s           t


Dusty Rhodes lives

I ride on the end

and I’ve got a silver studded saddle

and I’ve rode there for seven years

you got to come up to my

my place


Ole Anderson and Dusty Rhodes/

The Midnight Express/

Babydoll, everybody

Get it now

the hottest ticket in town

The Great American Bash


on the end of a lightning bolt



Give Me Back My Man

August 28th, 2015

I have been on a B-52’s kick the last few days.


There’s a video of a live B-52’s concert from 1980. It’s just five of them. Keys, guitar, drums and vocals, vocals, vocals. You watch them and you think it can’t work. But it did, fantastically. No bass guitar. I wonder if people gave as much of a damn about that in 1980 as White Stripes fans did in 2001 or so.


I was 12 during the wave of “Love Shack” and “Roam”, when there were four people in the group. At some point, I saw a SNL clip of them from their original incarnation. There were five of them. The guy who played guitar on “Love Shack” and “Roam” was playing drums and another guy was playing guitar. That’s when I found out they weren’t exactly a new group, just new to me.


So the song that’s number two in my heart (behind “Rock Lobster”) is “Give Me Back My Man”, which is a Cindy Wilson lead vocal. Watch this video and see if you don’t develop a crush. You will fall in love with her, and especially 1980-era Cindy. There’s a lot going on in those eyes. There’s been four decades of girl singers trying to project this vibe that Cindy does without trying.



August 25th, 2015

It was hard to be a non-drinker in the social circle. “You don’t drink? Oh, you’re straight edge.” No, I wasn’t straight edge. I just didn’t drink. I still don’t. Nor did/do I have problem with other people drinking. I never thought I was better than anyone else for not drinking or taking drugs. Maybe somebody thought I did.


Every thing I have ever done has been done the hard way. I spent 90% of the time trying to find an easy way to do things, then spent the remaining 10% doing it the hard way. That’s hard work, you know.


It’s hard to pick up girls when you don’t drink and they do. There’s always a wall between me and the people who drink. Always a standoffishness that is never hinted at because I am not engaging in the same get-loose activity as them. What am I, a tattletale? Believe me, I know a lot of things that I don’t speak about. Not to mention the story of how drunk or high you got and how badly you behaved yourself is so boring. You know who else drank too much, threw up, pissed the bed, and put the cat in the fridge? A lot of people. Whether you called your ex at three in the morning or woke up with an electrical tape Hitler mustache and not known how it got there, it’s been done. It’s not even generational. It is as evergreen as. . . evergreen.


“I can’t have sex with this girl. She’s too drunk.” That’s me, Mr. Sober who can’t get his wick dipped because his date drank two pitchers with jello shots. Nobody goes to the bar to not drink except me because I sing in a band that plays bar.


I used to be a non-drinker in the social circle but I’ve solved that problem. I simply don’t go out anymore. My band hasn’t played a bar gig in over a year. Take that, you drunks. I hope I’m not harshing your mellow.

Taking Privacy Behind The Shed

August 20th, 2015

So you’ve heard about this Ashley Madison leak, right? A group of hackers stole over seven years worth of info from the Ashley Madison website, including personal information of up to 30 million customers.


Ashley Madison is a dating website for married people who are seeking affairs outside their marriage. Despite its hideous premise, it is a website for consenting adults. What happens between people who hook up through Ashley Madison is their own business, even if it goes against their marital bond.


Yesterday, a Twitter account dedicated to outing A. Madison customers from Kentucky turned up. It named names, occupations, Twitter handles and how much was paid for services. Before it was taken down that night for reasons of abuse and harassment, it gained over 7,000 followers.


I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t a follower or a customer. Still, I had a look. I had a looky-loo like a gossipy hen wondering if anyone I knew was on the list. I’m not proud of myself for looking. Same thing when the Fappening happened. I looked even though the pictures were all stolen. Why do I need to see what Bar Refaeli looks like naked? It wasn’t meant for me to see. And yet I looked, just as many looked.


We’ve been killing our own privacy for a long time. We do it to ourselves so much. A world has been created for us to inhabit, an online world where we present a version of ourselves that doesn’t always correspond to reality. Through it we share what we choose to share with the people we choose to share it with. We are encouraged to share. We learn what we can do and it may even feel like intimate at times. And then some hackers come in and steal everything you’ve done and then want to moralize to you about what you’ve done. Thieves trying to impart wisdom. Who do they think they are? How dare a thief try to give anyone a life lesson?


And yet we’re not really that mad about it. It’s a poetic justice, this A. Madison thing. People who went in to betray their spouses now being betrayed by hackers and a not-impenetrable security system. It’s hard to feel sympathy for people who were specifically looking to do something wrong. “Did you know that Josh Duggar had an Ashley Madison account?” Really, I am shocked! The guy who admitted to molesting four of his sisters also tried to have an affair? Next thing you’ll say is that Charlie Manson smoked pot on occasion. I really can’t believe it.

I Don’t Get It

August 19th, 2015

Today was supposed to be Jon Hensley’s birthday. He would have been thirty-two today.

His funeral was about nine weeks ago.


It started raining sometime after midnight and has poured steadily ever since. I have been up all night. My sleep schedule is completely out of whack. I’ve been thinking about Jon. and Jeremie. and Andrew. and my grandfather. All who died in the last year. Friends and a relative. Musical peers. Fellow music snobs. Artistic people. And the man who raised me for most of my childhood.


It’s a miracle to know people who mean something to you. To know good people. It’s a miracle to love people. It’s a great feeling. Feeling good is a miracle. It may not seem like such but it’s a miracle that we get to experience these things.


It just doesn’t feel like a miracle right now. You know?

Another TV Show Pitch

August 17th, 2015

In 2004 or so I had an idea for a animated comedy show that I wanted to pitch for Adult Swim. I never did, because I had no idea how to get in touch with them. Not that it would have mattered. I wanted to write it down before I throw out this notebook.


Benny, the Bad-Acting Bear, has a contract to be a spokesperson (spokesbear) for a Canadian beer. He has frequent dialysis treatments for his bad kidneys due to excessive beer drinking. He works as an actor and leans on his agent (a amoral turtle who slept with Benny’s wife) to get him better acting gigs.


Episode 1

Benny gets a gig as a mascot for a professional football team, the Chicago Kodiaks. Because he isn’t a Kodiak bear, he is dressed and made up to resemble such. He collapses from exhaustion on the field during a game.


Episode 2

The murder mystery. A dead prostitute is found in Benny’s bed, forcing Benny to piece together the mystery of how she ended up there. He comes to the realization that he fell asleep on top of her in the middle of the night and she suffocated. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, upon realizing they are dealing with a famous beer-drinking bear, help Benny dispose of the body.


Episode 3

Big Sam, the famous ice cream bar bear, is on his deathbed. Benny visits him and they have a conversation where Big Sam gives him his blessing to replace him as the face of a famous brand of ice cream bars. Benny goes to audition to become the new ice cream bar bear but loses the part to an animated bear voiced by a human actor.


Episode 4

Benny has to protect his job when a special interest group demands he be replaced by a polar bear as the spokesperson for the famous Canadian beer.


Episode 5

Benny is jealous of the grunting Coco, who shills for Coco-Cola during Christmas season. Unlike Benny, Coco is not capable of speaking and only grunts.  This drives Benny crazy.


Episode 6

Turtle books Benny to perform at a nudist colony. He is booked as a wrestling bear, which he does not know how to do. Benny is intimidated by all the nudity.


Episode 7

In an attempt to avoid being typecast, Benny hires a screenwriter to develop a project for him to shop to movie and TV studios. The screenwriter is a hack and the best he can produce is a script titled “Bear Bearson: Backwoods Bear Detective”, which Benny fails to sell.


Episode 8

Benny gets into legal trouble and has to go to court, where he is sentenced to anger management therapy, where he understands he has repressed anger from Turtle sleeping with his then-wife.


Episode 9

Turtle books Benny what Benny is told is a “reality show” but is actually a group of hunters who kill for sport. Benny assumes this is a hidden-camera show as he avoids being shot.

Internet On Your Phone

August 16th, 2015

(written years ago when not everybody had internet on their phone. . . inspired by someone bragging about the internet on their phone, someone who shall remain nameless. . . found in a very old notebook that is about to be thrown out)


You’ve got the Internet on your phone.

Isn’t that something?

You think you’re better than me? Do ya? Huh? Punk?

The way you said it makes me think you wanted my hair to blow back and trumpets blaring from the sky

Like you’re King Arthur and you just pulled the sword out of the Stone

But you didn’t pull a sword out of stone

You have the Internet On Your Phone

And now you can act like you’re hot stuff

Not everybody can be so lucky

Some people don’t have clothes, shoes, a place to live

Some people are sick and crippled, unable to leave their own house

And you get mad when you can’t get wi-fi

Well let me break out my big crying cloth

Yeah, I got a big crying cloth

So big I can wrap it around your neck and choke you with it.

Yeah, how would you like that? How about I take that phone from you and use the Internet WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION Huh?

You think you’re better than me.

You probably think you’re better than President Abraham Lincoln.

He only freed the slaves

But you have the Internet on your phone

You could make Alexander Graham bell poop his pants if he saw that thing. He would look at you with a furrowed brow and say Did I invent that?

And you’d say “talk to the hand” because A.G. Bell never invented the Internet on your phone

If Thomas Edison saw your phone he would think the aliens won the war vs. Earth and forced us to carry these little boxes as a sign of our forced subservience. We will serve the aliens like dogs, tied to each other on an invisible leash

Fluke Of The Universe

August 13th, 2015

You are a fluke of the universe.

You have no right to be here.

Whether you can hear it or not,

the universe is laughing behind your back.



Why are you alive? I keep asking myself, why are YOU alive? Why, Mike? Why are you alive, Mike? I find myself unable to answer that question except to say I am too cowardly to do anything about it. But that’s barely an answer and I know that. Maybe I think the Cubs will win the pennant and I’d hate to miss it so that’s why I stick around even though they’re about eight-and-a-half games out of first in the NL Central.


But the truth is, and the song above makes it clear, is that our existence is a fluke anyway. Yours and mine. Even Terrell Owens, former NFL star wide receiver. His birth and continued existence is a complete fluke*. The odds that your parents would meet and mate and produce you in a world that’s a fluke of existence anyway. The odds that any planet would have the capacity to be inhabited. It’s all a miracle, an accident, a fluke. It won’t make you happier to know that, but that’s the way it is.


And while you (and by “you” I mean “you and me, all of us”) are here, you affect people near and far around you. How ridiculous is that? You somehow mean a lot to other people and they care about you and think about you and miss you when you aren’t around. They look forward to seeing you and you know this when they hold you and hug you and kiss you and tell you they love before saying goodbye as if they will never see you again and you know they mean it because you just know.


*Owens’s performance at Super Bowl XXXIX (9 catches for 122 yards) with a fractured fibula was no fluke. T.O. was just that good.


Look Back Fondly

August 13th, 2015


Ultra Pulverize were a group I got to do some shows with, both as Kentucky Prophet and with Technology Vs. Horse. I always enjoyed them watching them and liked their approach and aesthetic. Their shows were always a fun time for the crowd be it small or large. I got to know the three guys in the band a little bit and thought they were super nice.



For Alisha

August 7th, 2015

Today is Alisha’s birthday. You may not know who she is but if you do you know she is a special person for many reasons. There would not be a without Alisha’s help and that is one of my reasons. Alisha recently had a baby, and by “recently” I mean “within the last two years”. That’s recent enough, I figure. So I’m writing this with Alisha and her relatively new baby in mind, as well as parents and what they want to teach their children.


Last night, millions of people watched a debate on television. Ten men who were vying for the Republican nomination for President stood uncomfortably on stage together. In the middle was Donald Trump, frontrunner and poll-leader. Trump has been a real estate mogul, a casino magnate, a TV star and now is a presumptive Republican nominee.


I have been trying to figure out what Trump represents and what his lead in the polls means. And I think that I may have stumbled upon something that may be relevant, especially to those of you who raise children. Donald Trump represents the most childish impulses of the voter base.


Wouldn’t it be nice to have billions of dollars? What kind of freedom would that buy? How often would you say any mean thing you wanted? Wouldn’t it be great to be untouchable? Very few people get to live like that and those people are either too rich to care (Trump) or have so little to lose that its impossible for them to care (me, among others)?


Parents try to teach their children. The differences between right and wrong. The golden rule of treating other people the way you wish to be treated. To be a good sport and accept both winning and losing with equal humility and grace. To sit there and watch Donald Trump cheered for every petulant remark he spat out at the debate moderators is to see a man who hasn’t heard the word “no” nearly enough. The late Dick Clark was America’s oldest teenager. Donald Trump is America’s oldest spoiled brat.


Trump obviously has some type of issue with women. He was questioned by Fox News’ Megyn Kelly about his crude remarks about women, to which he added “Only Rosie O’Donnell” with a mean grin. Trump and Rosie had a feud while Rosie was a panelist on The View. In 2006. Nine years ago.




If you carried a grudge with someone from nine years prior, the people in your life would tell you to let it go already. It didn’t help that he visibly soured on Kelly, as if it were beneath him to have to answer to any woman. He’ll do great at international summits, especially since the Chancellor of Germany isn’t a woman, you know?



There is a selfish, nihilistic streak in the pro-Trump bloc. Children have those tendencies and that’s why parents have to protect them from themselves. That’s why you put seals on unused wall outlets. That’s why you keep them away from knives and the stove. That’s why you don’t give them sugar all the time. You wouldn’t let a child run the Federal Reserve or make appointments to the Supreme Court and you certainly wouldn’t let them have access to the launch codes that could bring forth Armaggedon.