Month: April 2005

  • MY RECENT BRUSH WITH GREATNESS


     


    I’m finally home after 10 long days on the road. It was a typical mind-numbing trip with the exception of one brief brush with greatness. I was boarding a puddle jumper from Nashville to Cincinnati when I felt a large presence looming behind me on the jet way. When I turned around, I encountered none other than Bruce Hornsby standing behind me. If you’re like any of the children who work at my office, your reaction to that statement is probably the same as theirs was; “Bruce who?”  I’ll tell you Bruce who….


     


    I’ve been playing the piano since I was in grade school and I minored in piano in college. I respect and admire many classical pianists but I actually enjoy listening to contemporary pop/rock and blues piano players more. I’m a fan of Elton John and Billy Joel like everyone else, but in my humble opinion, the two greatest contemporary players in the last few decades are Bruce Hornsby and Keith Green. Bruce had two hit albums in the late eighties. His third album didn’t sell as well as the first two, and the five since then have probably only been purchased by die-hard fans like me. Back in the eighties his big hits included, The Way it is, Mandolin Rain, and Every Little Kiss.”  He’s probably most recognized as the piano player on Don Henley’s, The End of the Innocence. Bruce’s style is immediately recognizable, truly unique, and technically amazing. The best concert I ever attended was when he played the Brady Theater in Tulsa. He began the concert by asking people to write down what they would like to hear on a scrap of paper and then come up and lay the scrap on the lip of the stage. He picked the pieces of paper up and laid them across the top of his piano. There were no choreographed set lists, no pyrotechnics, and no back-up dancers. He simply picked up each piece of paper and played the next song…for three and a half hours, and I barely breathed the entire time. There is probably no other artists who’s CD’s I’ve played more than his, or who’s piano style I’ve tried harder to emulate, and as I took my seat on the plane, he plopped down next to me.


     


    When it comes to hob-knobbing with celebrities, there is no one smoother than me, so I began the conversation with a statement and a question: “Man, your career must be in the toilet if you’re having to fly coach and sit next to me”, and “would it be ok, if I just stared at your hands for the entire flight?”.  Ok…I didn’t really say those things, but both did go through my mind.


     


    Actually, it was very odd. When I turned around on the jet way and saw him, I did a double-take that almost snapped my neck. It had to be painfully obvious that I recognized who he was, and that embarrassed me a little bit. He smiled at me, but didn’t say a word. As I got on the plane I expected everyone to point and “ooh and aah,” (at Bruce Hornsby, not at me) but no one seemed to recognize him at all. Not a single person tried to engage him in conversation or ask for his autograph. In fact, no one else seemed to have any idea who he was.  I started to say something about a half dozen times, but ended up not saying a word. It must be very odd for a person to have been at the peak of popularity and then have that celebrity status fade away until they can take a commercial flight completely unrecognized. 


     


    As we stepped off the plane, we made eye contact and nodded and smiled again. As he walked off toward another gate I began to chide myself for not asking for an autograph. But then I thought, “what value would a signature on a piece of paper really have?” The real value is the countless hours of pleasure that listening to his music has brought me. I have that whether I have a scrap of paper or not. So, Bruce…..whatever flight you might be on at the moment, or whatever studio you might happen to be sitting in….thanks for playing.


     


  • YAWN ALERT


     


    I get asked occasionally why I don’t post more about the daily events in my life. Well, OK…you asked for it.


     


    I’m currently in the middle of a six-day, nine-meeting, 1,800 mile road trip for work.  It started in Tulsa, OK, went from there to St. Louis, MO, to Indianapolis, IN, to Bloomington, IN, to Owensboro, KY, to Louisville, KY, to Mt. Vernon, IL, to Dexter, MO., and back to Tulsa. I’ll get in Tuesday night just in time to get unpacked and repacked to fly to Nashville on Wednesday for a two day trip.


     


    At this particular moment, I’m sitting in a LaQuinta Inn in Louisville, typing on my laptop, watching “Desperate Housewives” on mute, and waiting on the couple in the next room to either stop fighting, or at least fight a little bit louder so I can make out what it is they are fighting about. I had a delicious pre-packaged deli sandwich, a diet Mt. Dew, and a little Debbie’s Snack Cake from the BP station next door for dinner.


     


    In just a bit, I’ll strip the bedspread off the bed (because God only knows what unspeakable acts have occurred on that bedspread since the last time it was actually washed). Then I’ll attempt to adjust the obnoxiously loud wall-unit heater/air-conditioner to some place between nuclear winter and broil, try to find a pillow without drool stains, and get a little shut eye.


     


    Damn…my life is glamorous.


     

  • NEATO, GEE-WHIZ, GROOVY, FAR-OUT, AND RIGHT-ON!


     


    If you’re old enough to have ever seriously used one of the words or phrases above in everyday conversation then, like me, you are probably hopelessly out of touch with the hip new jive talk the kiddos are speaking today.


     


    I discovered this recently when I looked up the Xanga sites of some High School students I know personally. After reading through pages and pages of their posts, the burning question that was on my mind was, “huh?”  I mean, it was apparent they were speaking English, but it was also apparent that none of the words they were using meant what I’ve always thought they meant.


     


    Thinking that these students I knew might be suffering from some sort of shared brain fever that was altering their cognitive abilities, I began to link to more and more student blogs to see if all High School students were speaking in this strange new dialect. That’s when it became apparent; the contemporary slang train has left the station and I’m no longer on board.


     


    In the interest of inter-generational communication, I immediately launched into an exhaustive study of these strange new speech trends. The result is a short dictionary of common terms that might help us all to understand what the hell it is these kids are talking about.


     


    Before I begin to list specific definitions, I’d like to point out that the first thing I noticed about their speech is that it has a distinctive black-urban flavor. It’s as if they are all trying out for a guest spot on Def Poetry Jam. I find this humorous because the students that I know are:


     


                A.        so white they glow in the dark, and


     


    B.        so upper-middle class that their idea of “roughing it” is having to drive mom’s Lexus to school because their Beemer is being detailed.


     


    With that in mind, I offer the following three definitions: (more will follow in later posts)


     


    BITCHES


     


    I’m old enough to remember when people actually used this term to describe canines of the female persuasion. I remember being nine years old and visiting an uncle that raised bird dogs. My uncle made the comment that he had to “tie up his bitch because she was in heat.”  I began to giggle under my breath because I thought that was the naughtiest thing I’d ever heard an adult say. My uncle just looked at me like I was crazy because, to him, that statement was no more scandalous than saying he put the car in the garage because it was raining.


     


    Most of the folks in my generation have used the term to describe women who have personalities that are somewhat less than congenial.  Neither of these uses could be farther away from the current meaning which is:


     


    Bitches   noun, plural 


     


    1.         A term of endearment referring to a small group of close friends or acquaintances.  Example sentence:  Me and my bitches are taking daddy’s Jag down to Starbucks for some lattes.


     


     


    GHETTO


     


    If the first thing that pops in your head when you see the word “Ghetto” is Elvis Presely singing:


     


    On a cold an gray Chicago morn


    A poor little baby child is born


    In the ghetto


    (in the ghetto)


    and his momma cries.


     


    Then you need to push yourself up with your walker and go grab a pen and a piece of paper because I have a new definition for you:


     


    Ghetto   adjective


     


    1.         A term describing anything that is of extremely poor grade or quality. Example sentence:  I just scuffed these $300.00 sneakers my parents bought for me, so I guess I’m going to have to throw them away because now they are freaking ghetto.


     


    PIMP


     


    When most adults hear the word “pimp”, it conjures up visions of a man in a purple hat with an ostrich feather, wearing a mink coat, and driving a 1972 Eldorado with fur on the dash. If that’s true for you, you’ve been watching too many re-runs of blaxploitation movies from the 70’s, because the new definition is:


     


    Pimp   adjective


     


    1.         Opposite of Ghetto. A term describing anything of extreme quality or anything that is very desirable.  Example sentence:  The new tattoo that Haley has on her ass, which is clearly visible because her low-rider jeans don’t come up far enough to cover even half  of her thong, is defiantly pimp.


     


    Next time: The “F-word” and how students are able to use it as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb, all in the same sentence!


     


    If you are unsure of the definition of any words that you’ve heard teens use, please leave them in a comment and I’ll get my crack team of researchers working on it right away.


     


    In conclusion I’d just like to say that all my bitches need to leave some comments because comments are pimp, and people who don’t leave them are freaking ghetto.

  • Several of my fellow Xangians have been posting tid-bits of information about themselves. The number of tid-bits is supposed to correlate to the year you were born. I thought I’d give it a shot. I was born in 1958, so here are 58 things you never really wanted to know about me….


     



    1. I typically consume between 80 and 100 ounces of diet Mt. Dew a day and I have been doing this ever since my college days. If my blood-caffeine level drops below 30%, I immediately lapse into a coma.
    2. I sleep either on my stomach or in the fetal position. If I’m having a really bad day at work, I can be found in the fetal position under my desk.
    3. I just celebrated my 11th anniversary with my current employer.
    4. I used to sing with a professional men’s chorus and I’ve done a 13 city tour of Spain and a 15 city tour of Russia and the Baltic States with them.
    5. My favorite meal is pork chops and scalloped potatoes. Yes, my cholesterol and blood pressure are high.
    6. I love fiction and I have the bizarre habit of finding an author I like and reading everything they have written. To date I have read every novel published by Dean Koontz, Robin Cook, James Patterson, Scott Turrow, and Michael Crichton.
    7. I despise self-help books.
    8. I have a bachelor’s degree and a Master’s degree in music and another bachelor’s in psychology. I sell sound equipment for a living…go figure.
    9. My mother was a schizophrenic and died in the mental ward of a local hospital just after I graduated from college.
    10. I have no interest in sports.
    11. I acted with, and severed as musical director for several area theater groups here in Tulsa for about 10 years.
    12. No…I’m not gay.
    13. I was a Southern Baptist Minister of Music for 17 years and even though I left the ministry almost 12 years ago, I still do weddings from time to time. I’m officiating at my son’s wedding in June.
    14. I have an “inny.”
    15. For three years I was a house parent at a home for unmarried pregnant teenagers.
    16. Because of this, I have the distinction of being able to say that I’ve lived with 76 pregnant women in my life. I’ve never fully recovered.
    17. I play five instruments.
    18. Two of those instruments I really suck at.
    19. My dream job is being an insanely rich syndicated columnist.
    20. I like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain…..not really.
    21. I am the world’s most happily married man.
    22. Unfortunately, it took two failed marriages for me to realize that marriage is really a good thing.
    23. I’m a published composer of liturgical choral music.
    24. Me and a buddy of mine who is a play-write spent three years writing a stage musical based on the Ernest Lawrence Thayer poem “Casey at the Bat.”
    25. It debuted in Tulsa at the University Center Theater in 1995.
    26. A local theater critic wrote that it was the “Little League version of Broadway.”
    27. I had him killed
    28. If you’d like a poster from the musical please let me know, I have 8000 left over in a box in my attic.
    29. Dave Barry is my hero.
    30. The first “concert” I ever attended was going to see a Broadway touring group do “Jesus Christ Superstar.”
    31. Ted Neely rocks.
    32. My favorite movie is “The Princess Bride.”
    33. I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.
    34. There are about 10 movies that I have seen so many times that I can pretty much recite the dialog word for word. Some of those movies are “Airplane,” “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” “Ghost Busters,” and “Stripes.”
    35. My wife refuses to watch any of these movies with me because my proclivity towards saying the lines along with the actors makes her want to strangle me.
    36. Both my son and I can sing every word from “Les Miserables.”
    37. I do not have a great track record with power tools.
    38. I once sat next to Garth Brooks on a flight from Tulsa to Nashville.
    39. I really like my job.
    40. I “Google” about 20 times a day.
    41. I’m addicted to National Public Radio
    42. Specifically; Car Talk, Wait-Wait Don’t Tell Me, Talk of the Nation/Science Friday, The Writer’s Almanac, and BBC news.
    43. Yes, I am a nerd.
    44. I was a die-hard Republican up until the last few years I spent in the Ministry. One day I was walking down this road in Damascus and I was  blinded by a bright light. Suddenly Al Franken appeared to me and…….no, that’s not exactly how it happened, but I’m certainly a Democrat these days.
    45. I fly about 45 times a year.
    46. I’m afraid of heights but I’ve gone ski-diving.
    47. I love to snow ski.
    48. I don’t understand the national Paris Hilton/Jessica Simpson/Pamela Anderson, bimbette obsession.
    49. Give me Scully from the X-Files any day.
    50. Ever since the movie “The American President.” I’ve had a crush on Annette Benning.
    51. Speaking of the X-Files; M*A*S*H*, and the X-Files are the two greatest television shows ever produced.
    52. I am an only child, and it shows.
    53. When I get stressed, I can be a jerk sometimes.
    54. My son is graduating from Baylor next month with a 4.0, and is getting married in June. He is actually my hero.
    55. I bought my wife a Mini-Cooper for her birthday. It’s a lot like driving a clown car.
    56. I HATE getting AARP crap in the mail….I’ve still got 3 YEARS before I turn 50, damnit!
    57. I am the national poster child for passive-aggressive behavior, but at least I know this about myself.
    58. I’m very happy with life right now.

  • ARE THERE ANTI-PSYCHOTIC DRUGS AVAILABLE TO TREAT MARCH MADNESS?


     


    There are roughly six billion people on this planet. This means that there are approximately three billion males, and I have become convinced that I am the only male out of that population (with the possible exception of the guys on Queer Eye) that was born without the “sports gene.”


     


    What is the “sports gene” you ask?


     


    It is the gene that causes half-naked fat guys to paint their bodies in the colors of their favorite NFL team and sit for hours in sub-zero weather to cheer on their team and wave enormous foam fingers at the camera.


     


    It is the gene that causes a man who wouldn’t be caught dead crying at his own wife’s funeral to call a radio sports show and weep bitterly on air about a person he has never met dropping a fly ball to lose a game that was played 20 years ago.


     


    It is the gene that causes Brazilian soccer fans to routinely trample each other to death.


     


    It is the gene that just caused my otherwise sane son to drive 20 straight hours from Waco, TX to Indianapolis, IN to see his college women’s basketball team (Baylor Lady Bears) compete in the NCAA championship game. He then turned right around and got back in his car and drove 20 straight hours back to Waco.


     


    Yes, it’s true, I have no sports gene. And even though the statement I’m about to make will cause grown men to shake their heads in disgust, old people to faint, and mothers to clasp their hands over the ears of their young children, I’m going to make it anyway - I have absolutely no interest in college or professional athletics. There….I said it.


     


    It probably has something to do with the fact that I was born without any discernable athletic ability. (I seriously mean without any).


     


    My father was desperate for me to be an athlete so I dutifully went out for every sport offered in Jr. High and High School. And I played them all….for at least two weeks, until they made the first cuts. The only team I actually made was the tennis team, and the only reason I made it was because it was a 12 man team and only 12 people went out. Not only did I not play an actual match all season, but they purposely didn’t tell me when the yearbook picture was being taken so that there would be no historical record of me ever being associated with the team.


     


    I may be the only person in the world who has actually been asked not to play on their churches’ coed softball team. Do you have any idea how bad you have to be to be asked not to play on a church coed softball team?!?!?!


     


    Please understand that even though I have made light of the effects of the sports gene, I am not judging those who possess it, or am I criticizing them in any way. In fact, if there was some South American clinic where doctors from the bottom third of their graduating classes were doing some type of gene therapy that might allow me to at last understand why March Madness actually seems to make people crazy, I would be on the first plane, jeep, donkey, or pontoon boat, to get there.


     


    Not having the sports gene has caused me to become a social pariah. No one ever invites me to their Super Bowl party. The guys from the office don’t ask me to join them after work to go to the local sports bar, even though I would be perfectly content to go there and simply eat chicken wings and ogle the scantily clad waitresses while everyone else watches the game.


     


    The only person who is happy that I don’t posses the sports gene is my wife. While other men spend all weekend planted firmly in their lazy boys with one hand on the remote and the other on a cold beer, I’m free to help my wife work in our flower beds.


     


    I’m not crazy, and I’m not gay; I just don’t have any interest in sports.


     


    I see other people pulling the shirts over each others heads at hockey games, and throwing beer on basketball players that cold-cock fans and I wish I could develop that kind of passion, but alas, I’m an empty shell.


     


    I salute the die-hard sports fans who are reading this and I admire your devotion to the pantheon of athletic achievement. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to our flower beds.


     


    (Edit:  I actually did end up watching the NCAA women’s final game and I’d like to point out that the reason Baylor won is because my son is the academic tutor for the team, which is why he was in Indianapolis cheering them on. I’ll also have to admit that it was pretty exciting, so maybe…just maybe…I’m beginning to understand)


     


    SIC EM LADY BEARS!!!


    2005 NCAA CHAMPIONS

  • HAIL TO THE CHIEFETTE


     


    Do you enjoy a good catfight? Were you cheering on Clytemnestra to whack Cassandra in Greek Mythology? Did you want Sarah to bitch slap Hagar for sleeping with her man in the book of Genesis? Where you pulling for Cinderella to run over her wicked stepmother in the pumpkin carriage?  Did you get out the pork rinds and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and cheer on the slug-fest between Tonya Harding and Paula Jones?


     


    Well, if you can answer yes to any of those questions, stay tuned, because many people are saying that the ultimate cat fight is brewing. You might want to set your TIVO to record the entire year between November of 2007 and November of 2008 because the presidential race between Condoleezza Rice and Hillary Clinton may well be on.  


     



     


    I’ve wanted to see a woman in the White House for years. The United States is way behind in this area.  Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister of Great Britain in 1979 and Indira Gandhi became Prime Minister of India way back in 1966.


     


    But is America ready to elect a woman to the White House? The long running joke is that if a woman were to become President, we could rest assured that we would not go to war during her watch; there would simply be very intense negotiations every 28 days.


     


    But since that joke is sexist, I would never repeat it.


     


    We may all be disappointed because Dr. Rice has actually denied having any intentions of running for president in 2008. Should we take her at her word? All I can say is that if I had a campaign bumper sticker for every candidate who, at one point, denied having any intentions of running for president, I could paste together a landing strip for Air Force One. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the race is on.


     


    Having a woman run for President does bring up some interesting questions, however:


     



    • Since the corresponding word for “lady” in the English language is “gentlemen”, would the President’s husband be called “First Gentlemen”? Does that sound as silly to anyone else as it does to me? 

     



    • When the President and her husband were dancing at the inaugural ball, who would lead?

     



    • Would she keep up the tradition of throwing out the first ball at the opening of the Major League Baseball season? And if she did, would she be accused of “throwing like a girl’?

     



    • The President’s cronies have always been referred to as the “good ole’ boys” club. In deference to political correctness would it become the “good ole’ persons” club?

     



    • Would Joan and Melissa Rivers critique the President’s clothes on E TV for 30 minutes prior to the state of the union address?

    I’m torn. Being a good Democrat, I certainly prefer Hillary’s politics over Condi’s. However, I love the thought of a woman being in the White House who is also black. If only she were a lesbian too, then all of us Democrats could just explode with giddiness.


     


    I certainly don’t think it should end with the presidential race. The ensuing appointments could be interesting as well. How about Oprah Winfrey as Secretary of the Treasury? She could just pay off the national debt with her spare pocket change.  Whitney Houston could be the acting Drug Czar, and don’t forget our new director of the Federal Bureau of Prisons; Martha Stewart.


     


    In all seriousness, it’s time for a woman to run for President. I just hope that Middle America can get past its bubba mentality and let it happen.


     


    And I don’t really think it would be a cat fight. I truly believe that a race between two women would be much cleaner than the typical mud-slinging and character assassination tactics that we have to endure now.


     


    (But I’ve got to tell you – it would be fun to see a little hair pulling during the presidential debates)


     


    (Edit: Toots10 sent me a link to a great Hillary in 2008 Jib-Jab cartoon. Check it out: http://i.euniverse.com/funpages/cms_content/6660/2008cc1.swf )