Monday, May 09, 2011


Let's celebrate the elimination of bin Laden by giving this very intense photo some new captions:

 1. Their hopes shattered, the entire party at the Defense Department is ruined when, as the clock ticks down, it's obvious the Lakers are going to be swept by the Mavericks.

2. It became obvious early on that everybody came to Michelle's White House Tupperware Party as a favor, but nobody had any intention of actually buying anything.

3. Flabbergasted by her husband's unconquerable desire to leap out of the White House curtains naked, playing the saxophone, Hilary Clinton wonders if it isn't time to do something about Bill.

4. In the midst of one of the most exciting and important moments in recent history, Chief of Staff Bill Daley suddenly realizes he's terribly overdressed.

Add your own...


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Wednesday, April 20, 2011

IN HONOR OF 4/20 (Which I still don't know what that has to do with dope):
The 10 Dumbest Things We Boomer Kids Were ‘TAUGHT’ about Marijuana By Cops Sent to Give the “Drug Talk”
Given an annual combination of school/church group/scout meetings etc., I would imagine that I heard a well-meaning cop give the “drug talk” about six times between the age of 12 and 15. The only difference with each passing year was the amount of stifled laughter emitted in the room by kids who, as they got older, were already heavily into drugs and knew we were being fed a load of horseshit.
These talks were always given by a well-meaning but ill-prepared policeman who really wanted to be out chasing bad guys. But the town I lived in didn’t have that many bad guys, so he had to give the drug talk.
You can’t really blame these guys for stretching the truth, but you got the distinct feeling sometimes that he didn’t really know all that much about drugs either, because HE didn’t use them.
Below is a list of 10 things I actually heard one cop or another say about marijuana. I could have brought up other drugs as well, but if you see what’s below you can only imagine what they told us about acid and all the other stuff.
1.       All marijuana looks exactly the same. It’s a five-leaved, serrated plant. People carry the leaves around like that, so you’ll know it when you see it. (Apparently they carried it around pressed in a picture frame, like the cop did. I never saw anybody like that.)
2.       If you take even ONE drag off of a joint, you will be INSTANTLY ADDICTED to Marijuana. And there is no cure.
3.       If you take even ONE drag off of a joint, you stand a good chance of dying. (But officer, how can you be addicted to it if you die from it? Shut up, kid…)
4.       A marijuana high causes horrible hallucinations and violent outbursts.
5.       Marijuana will kill you faster than cigarettes.
6.       Marijuana ALWAYS – let me repeat this, kids – ALWAYS – leads to other drugs.  ALWAYS. (This is usually when he would pull out another picture frame with some pills and other things pressed into it. By the way, all LSD comes on cardboard pieces with Mickey Mouse’s picture on them.)
7.       If you, a minor, are caught with marijuana on your person, both you and your PARENTS will be arrested – regardless of where you are when arrested.
8.       There are only two slang terms for marijuana: Pot and MaryJane.
9.       No one ever smoked marijuana before the 1950s. It’s rock music’s fault.
10.   Marijuana can give you flashbacks, just like LSD.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


Yes, I’m back with another blog entry. I really do want to start writing a alot again.

Apparently, about a month ago, a bunch of people who still write regularly in their blogs got on a Census thing; that is, sum up your life for every 10 years from birth. I’m 53, so this one’s a little off, but let’s see what I remember.

1957. Born 11/2 in Gary Indiana. Don't remember much, but I can tell you Wichita, Kansas was having some good rockin’ that night.

1967: Fourth Grade at St. Zachary’s School in Des Plaines, Illinois. My teacher’s name was something like Mrs. Gianowsky, pronounced Geh-NUS-kee. We lived in Mount Prospect, five miles from O’Hare. Planes flew about 700 feet over our house every 45 seconds. By now, we’d lived here almost 3 years and we were used to it. After a while you didn’t even hear them anymore.

1977: In my sophomore year at NAU. I have a Hopi roommate named Brad who’s majoring in cars. He’s married and goes home every weekend. However, this does not improve my chances of getting laid, since I’m pretty shy and don’t hold my beer very well. In about a month I get the opportunity to interview and take pictures of the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. I still have the pics and have, through Facebook and Yahoo and whatnot, sent many of them copies, which they love.

1987: Married for 6.5 years, with a 2.5-year-old son, Adam. I’m working at the Cowen Agency as a writer/producer. I love my job; I hate our clients. Playing music every Tuesday since ’82 with various friends.

1997: I have just finished cancer treatment; still seeing doctor occasionally for blood tests. I’m hosting open stage with Steve Bodinet at Fiddler’s Dream. The cancer, and my 20th high school reunion in ’86, gives me the impetus to write a song, Baby Boomer. I start thinking about recording.

2007: I have two CDs out. I’m working at a B2B agency that I really have no desire to stay at, but I’m not finding anything else. It’s beginning to show but the axe won’t fall for another year. It’s been a year since I last got played on the Dr. Demento Show.

Today: I’m not there anymore; I’m not in advertising anymore. Still trying to record CD number 3.

Testing testing.

Friday, February 25, 2011


I found this neat site. Here's my blog run through Wordle.com, a word cloud toy that not only tells you what words you use a lot; it turns them into art.

title="Wordle: Most common words on my blog"> src="http://www.wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/3216364/Most_common_words_on_my_blog"
alt="Wordle: Most common words on my blog"
style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd">

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Tuesday, February 23, 2010


Worst sponsored tournament name ever: The Waste Management Phoenix Open.


This Saturday at Club Red: Romantasy Cabaret kicks off its fourth year. Come see it! Club Red is at University and the 101.


Does anybody really care enough to watch the Winter Olympics? I know I'm not.


Friday, February 19, 2010


Did any of you get the idea that Tiger Woods's apology speech today was highly rehearsed? The words sounded remarkably like that stuff that addiction therapists beat into your brain in order to keep you from doing what you were doing that brought you to their intention in the first place.

One upside to it: For the first time ever, we all saw Tiger Woods getting emotional. I was convinced that he was simply a golfing robot. He has no ability to talk about anything else, and even when he talks about golf it's like rote.

I don't watch golf; I don't care, but I know the golf community cares because this guy is the ONLY guy that non-golfers tune in to watch. He should have done this months ago.

But then of course, he had to wait for the teeth that Elin didn't break with the golf club she didn't swing in his face to not heal because nothing like that happened. Yeah, right.

Now that you can talk without lisping through the fake teeth, enjoy your new denture plate, Tiger.


I'm at the Alwun House tonight, 8 p.m. for the Erotic Music and Poetry Festivus, and at Fiddler's Dream tomorrow night for the first set at 8 p.m.


Our washing machine broke. Dammit.


Wednesday, February 17, 2010


Actually, there's not much time. But I have some. So here's what's up lately:

I'm a busy boy this weekend:

Friday: Alwun House Erotic Music and Poetry Festivus. 8 p.m. Fun. Show up. 12th Street and Roosevelt.

Saturday: Fiddler's Dream, 17th St. and Glendale. Also fun. Show up. 8 p.m. (I'm on first this time.)

Sunday: Rehearsal for 2/27. What's 2/27? Romantasy Cabaret, of course! Our first show of the new Season! New acts! New comedy! New nearly naked women! www.brownpapertickets.com!

Attended the Alwun House's Exotic Art Show opening last Friday. We always show up about an hour before the doors open, which was a good idea because the place was PACKED LIKE SARDINES. At least we got chairs.


My boys' band Thunder Stump is being flirted with by a local punk label. Go see them. Their next gig is March 13 at Donna Jean's Libations, 67th Avenue and Bell.

Our washing machine has bit the dust. The dusty dust. Dust diddy dust dust dust. Gotta buy a new one. Rats.

I promise not to be so late to post here again. Facebook can't have ALL my pointless comments.


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