Abe Lincoln never even thought about sleeping here...

There is a significant amount of space dedicated to where somebody used to be or is (in some cases) such as in “George Washington Slept Here” and “Here Lies James Brown.”

I always thought this would be one of those things, like the value of a good nap, I would understand better as the years wore on.

I assumed that when I was at the ripe old age of the age I am currently ripened that I would place more importance on where I would be buried when the time comes. Well, not yet.

It’s time now for the real country music lyric of the day…
It may be my family's redneck nature
Rubbin' off, bringin' out unlady-like behavior
It sure ain't Christian to judge a stranger
But I don't like her

She may be an angel who spends all winter
Bringin' the homeless blankets and dinner
A regular Nobel Peace Prize winner
But I really hate her
I'll think of a reason later

Yes, I’m still here. Anyway, I don’t get it. Just take me to the landfill. What do I care?

And this obsession with who WAS here before I arrived to find a plaque commemorating it…I don’t get that either. In our house, if they know where you were, you spilled something.

If only someone had told us to “be careful” before we left home...

We parked our car about six blocks from the Hard Rock Café in an alley marked “no parking” on the wall and with a battered sign that read “not responsible for damage or theft” lying on the ground. I left the doors unlocked, the windows down and my GPS sitting on the dashboard.

As we walked the six blocks of mostly empty streets, I pulled out my wad of cash and counted it, nodding hello to passers-by.

We stopped in a convenience store and I bought a coke with a hundred dollar bill, remarking aloud to Holli that I hoped we wouldn’t spend all of the thousand dollars we brought with us.

We weren’t worried. After all, Memphis is #2 in violent crimes…not #1.

We drank heavily. We told strangers our life stories.

About 2 am, we weaved back to the car singing loudly.

I'm thinking of changing my name to Zyzl Zyzzwin...

My view of “Judgment Day” (the event in the biblical book of Revelation, not the movie) has changed over the years.

In my early days, I thought it would be an overhead projector and everyone sitting at their desks as God wrote down all your bad deeds. (school daze style)

Later on, I figured it would be huge TV screens and everyone standing around. (stadium rockfest style)

In the past few years, I decided everyone would have an ipod and get a simultaneous podcast sent to them. Soon I will have to guess that it will be twittered to everyone.

But if I’m forgiven by the grace of God through Christ, do I still need to go to the big unveiling?

If I do, I assume everyone will be there and that there will be a lot of giggling and gasping. Unless it is your turn, of course. I have always kind of hoped they go in alphabetical order so less people would be around when they got to me…but it just occurred to me that if everyone has to stay to the end, it won’t matter.

If I do have to go, I am curious though. If the first guy up (Aaron Aaaaaaaban) finds out that he’s in big trouble for having a beer (and a smoke) while doing the Charleston at the Euchre tournament, I may need more grace than I thought.

Probably will anyway.

The Country Music Alphabet only has 25 letters...

Amnesty International doesn’t list Randy Travis as a war criminal, but I’ve been stuck in the radio station for the past week as the rest of the staff went to a faraway place.

It’s not that I don’t like country music, I do, but one disaster/lovesick/cheatin'/beer guzzlin’ song after another is getting to me.

If I hear about “her havin’ leavin’ on her mind” one more time, I’m going to call the Prozac people and ask for a radio trade agreement.

But now it’s time for the real country music lyric of the day…enjoy it while it's still free
And the warden sang
Come on somebody
Why don't you run
Ol' Red's itchin' to have a little fun
Get my lantern
Get my gun
Red'll have you treed before the mornin' comes

This song suffices three of the seven country music lyrics…prison, dogs, guns…and it’s only the chorus. The lines before it have a cheatin’ no-good woman and murder. Score: 89.7 (out of 100)…100 being all seven which include the above along with drinkin' and mama. It scored cross-category bonus points for including a love interest for the dog.

And now, the transmitter readings this morning were a little off, so in the best advice of people who AREN’T HERE, I am to take Wasp Spray, a hammer, nails and something to clean the air conditioning vent out there (about 10 miles away) and take care of it.

With the wasp spray they advised me to get the kind that sprays from a long distance and to be careful when I open the door.

I guess the monotony is over.

When Facebook becomes too personal...

Good News! The adolescence of high school and college are just a mouse click away. You too can continue to find your value by hanging out in cliquish groups.

On Twofacedbook, you don’t have to worry about meeting new people or making new friends, you can just stay home AND hang out with your 10th grade English class!

With Twofacedbook, just click onto your page, open a few beers and tell everyone about it! Everyone will get a kick out of the crazy things you type while you catch a buzz. It will be just like a cyberspace sorority/fraternity house!

Tell us about your perfect kids, your great house and the vacation you took to the beach, complete with pictures. With Twofacedbook, everyone will think you’ve got a perfect life…while their own lives are falling apart. But don’t worry, they’ll tell you a pack of lies too. With Twofacedbook, you don't have to be afraid you'll have to show compassion or really connect with people.

And since EVERYONE in your circle of 10,824 friends can see what you are writing, the superficial half-truths you tell will suffice for the story of your life. No more one-on-one heart-to-heart conversations for you. It will be like you are a celebrity and Twofacedbook is your own personal publicist!

Smooth over the past failures, embellish the rest, share only what makes YOU look good…It’s Twofacedbook!

No offense Hank, I just needed an example...

First of all, it’s not really about Hank…

I don’t know if he even cares…

But Representative Marsha Blackburn (R) Tennessee is crazy. Ol’ Marsha thinks that the family of Hank Williams and the rest of his genre should get some of my money because he evidently made a bad deal (now he says) when he agreed to sell his talent and songs to a record company years ago.

(actually, I’m not sure Marsha thinks this, but a lobbyist either paid her a bunch of money or has her in a headlock)

And the reason Hank should get some of my cash is because I am making a carload of money off of playing his songs on my radio station. No, no I’m not.

Radio made them famous and gave THEM the carload of money. I don’t see the radio stations of America demanding a share of the cash they made in their heyday. I don’t see the radio stations getting a cut on their album sales, their concert tickets or their overpriced concert t-shirts, which radio's on-air promotion of made possible.

The music they played was created for radio stations to play, not the other way around. And, at the time, it was the only way to the success they achieved. Still is.

And believe me, there are plenty of people who will beg us to play their music for free.

Nope. Never again. Not if you behave…

Gracie is now officially a member of the throw-up club. Up until this point in her life, she hadn’t had this experience.

She will be given the official secret handshake, password and a duplicate set of keys for the porcelain bus in a ceremony later this week.

For my part, I held her hair and mourned the loss of innocence.

But this isn’t a total loss. When you are an adult, you try to figure out why this has happened to you. Grace didn’t ask, but we are going to tell her it’s one of a few things.

1. She didn’t clean the playroom good enough yesterday.
2. She didn’t share her cookies with her brother (who is not yet a member of the club) and thus, she eventually lost them.
3. She argued that she wasn’t tired last night when it was time to go to bed.

I’d write more, but I have to go check and see if she is done shining my shoes.

They said, they said...

A BAR IN TENNESSEE – A barroom brawl was averted last night when a group of bikers allowed a table full of church members to drink beer and eat chicken wings in peace.

“Normally, we’d run over and tell them to beat it, but we decided to leave them be,” said Jess, “They smiled a little too much for us and some of them had collars on their shirts, but it wasn’t that big a deal.”

The church-goers were in the bar to watch the first round of the NCAA basketball tournament. When asked why chose a bar to meet, Pastor Edmounds replied, “The wings are better here than at my house.”

The regulars in the bar were surprised that a church group would show up. Bill, who offered to play pool against anyone at the table for $10 a game, said, “They seemed nice enough, even if they were too chicken to play pool.”

It was reported that one of the Presbyterians played softball in a weekend league with the bikers and that a couple of the bikers went to church.

*****

SAME PLACE -- A barroom revival was averted last night when a church group, who met to eat wings, drink beer and watch the NCAA basketball tournament, allowed a group of leather-clad bikers to play pool and laugh amongst one another in peace.

“Normally, we’d run over there and tell them that they are going straight to hell, what with their clothes and pool-playing and drinking more than us,” said Pastor Edmounds, “They dressed like Mel Gibson in the Road Warrior, but we decided to let them enjoy themselves.”

The bikers were in the bar to socialize and play some pool. When asked why they chose a bar to meet, Jess replied, “The wings are better here than at my house.”

The church members were surprised that bikers would be here. Church-member-Tim, who challenged anyone in the bar to a contest to find Jeremiah 14:7 faster than anyone else for $10, said, “They seemed nice enough, even if they didn’t know their major prophets.”

It was reported that one of the bikers had been to church in the past few weeks and that one of the church members liked to play pool.

While I’m there I’ll pick up some mulch…

This southern migration of the fashion waistline hasn’t bothered me a whole lot in the past few years. If most of the younger population wanted to wear their drawers around their ankles…so be it. It wasn’t affecting my life.

But now it’s personal. I can’t find jeans that have an inseam long enough for my particular fashion sense. I bought some new ones and they feel like they are falling off all the time.

I did try them on in the store, but my evaluation of clothing when I just want to find something that works, pay and get out of the store is less stringent than my “why did I buy these?” moments I endure for years afterward. This may be called impulse buying if the impulse we are speaking of is to “get this over with.”

Now the only jeans that work for me are also sold in the hardware store next to the overalls and coveralls.

End of an era...

To properly end the "Movie Review Era" of this blog...I copied this from another website:

Bootleg: The first use of the phrase in the Omaha Herald in 1889- There is as much whisky consumed in Iowa now as there was before..."for medical purposes only," and on the boot-leg plan.

A bootleg refers to the long leather boots worn by cowboys in the Old West. They were used to store all manner of illicit goods, including an extra gun, a bowie knife, or a flask of moonshine. Incidentally, a bootleg play in football refers to quarterback running pattern that entails making a sharp perpendicular turn around the tight end.

It's now used to refer to anything illegal, unauthorized, and unregulated, like concert recordings and titles for completely-unrelated-to-the-movie blog posts.

Liar, Liar

The statistics given out by the AAA, the highway department, or whoever has jurisdiction in this area are a pack of lies when it comes to seat belts and fatalities.

Most people, when in an accident, get questioned by the police. One of the questions they ask you is if you were wearing your seat belt.

EVERYONE says yes. I mean, if the accident was your fault, are you going to add another problem to your day by admitting another violation? “Yes sir, I ran the stop sign, caused the accident, but please give me an additional ticket, won’t you?”

And since you are alive to say “YES” you go down into the survivor column under “people who wore their seat belts.”

I had a potential mother-in-law (maybe not potential exactly, she mentioned something about “over her dead body” when I brought it up) tell me she didn’t wear seat belts because she figured it was safer to be “thrown clear” than to be trapped inside a burning car.

Now, I can’t argue that being thrown clear IS better than being trapped in a burning car, but I didn’t know those were the only two possibilities during a car accident.

(And I’ve been in a few accidents and I have never been thrown clear or trapped in a burning car. But I always said I was wearing my seat belt when they asked me.)

On the other hand, I don’t ever remember riding with her to see for myself if she did what she said.

Oh no…a thought just hit me…egad…maybe she was hoping that I would value her opinion and choose the “thrown clear” possibility.

And maybe it wasn’t her dead body she was thinking of…

Death Wish 6

Finally, a Death Wish movie without Charles Bronson (Death Wish hero 1-5). I always found it hard to believe that he even made it to Death Wish 3. After all, it was a death wish…

But, we are surrounded by this kind of stuff. I can’t believe the Desperate Housewives are still desperate…by now we should be on the Resigned-to-their-fate Housewives….because as my personal life has taught me…desperate becomes pathetic pretty quick. But they are still desperate.

Dick Tracy had the entire criminal world looking for him, the cops were useless, they entire city was grey and he was wearing a BRIGHT YELLOW COAT. You could have spotted him from a plane…but no one could find him and when they found him they couldn’t shoot him. Meanwhile, Madonna (I don’t remember her screen name) was in stalking him and had no problem with his twenty (trucker lingo). If I were the crooks, I’d have opened up a penicillin stand and waited for him to show up.

And who shot worse than a storm trooper? Luke and Han Solo shot about 500 hundred of them at point blank range without sustaining even a flesh wound.

And finally, don’t get me started on Jack Bauer.

Newsies

The once-a-week newspaper came today. The headlines were things we did on the news about three days ago…but in case you missed it…you have a chance to reminisce yet again.

I caught this in the want ads--

Help Wanted: Need live in housekeeper for white widow; must be non-smoker, non-drinker, non-drug user; must have valid drivers license; good driving record; must be able to pick up 30 pounds; must have verifiable character and work references.

It seems to me, if you were all of the above that you wouldn’t need a job…what would you need money for?

In other headlines--

A former pro athlete came and spoke at the local high school. His tale of ballgames, drugs, rehab and subsequent speaking engagements is certainly something to try to emulate.

He told the kids to just say no to drugs and alcohol…unless you were pretty sure you could eventually use the experience to travel around telling your story to high school kids.

What I want to hear about is a guy who didn’t do drugs, didn’t get addicted to vodka martinis and tells his story of nights spent reading in the public library and days of cleaning out gutters for the elderly.

I’m sure there are these kinds of stories out there. But I guess he’s too busy getting his resume together for the live in housekeeper job.

And come to think of it, I didn't have either one of these stories. Scooped again, I guess.

Silent Movie

I guess the great thing about the silent movie era making a comeback would be you could talk during the show, take cell phone calls and pretty much do anything you wanted, including listening to your IPOD as long as you didn't stand up and block anyone's view.

Although if it were a foreign film, the subtitles along with the foreign words might make for confusion, but in a sense it could be educational...

Mumford

I got a letter from my accountant who is branching off to go into marriage counseling during the off months. He had a few tips for preparing to come in.

• Keep a diary or log of offenses as they occur.
• Keep a file of terrible things you do, such as leaving the cap off the toothpaste, or falling asleep during Dancing with the Stars. Set up a filing system whereby you have separate folders for each kind of offense you commit. File them alphabetically.
• Record your transgressions either daily, weekly, or monthly into your database. It does not have to be anything fancy. Just accurate. If you are not sure whether it is your problem or hers, it's probably yours.
• If possible, be sure to reconcile your stupidity and insensitivity each month. This way you won’t have a backlog at the end of the year.
• Don’t bother keeping track of all the good things you do. It won’t help.
• Your records should be kept a minimum of three years, in case you need to apologize for things again. Some authorities advise keeping records six years. Some people never forget.

You will need to collect all the above information, if applicable, so that you can explain yourself.

Ski to the Max

If you were making a skiing movie, why would you call it anything else, dude?

There is also snowboarding, but I guess Ski and Snowboard to the Max was too long for a title.

Anyway, the ski report...

Skiing in 65 degree weather was a lot like the last 15 minutes of Frosty the Snowman...you knew it wasn't going to last much longer and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

Only one of us got hurt and it wasn't me.

I found out that I-40 in Tennessee is full of idiots who don't know what the left lane is supposed to be used for.

I learned that 600 miles on Sunday and Tuesday can make you really tired, even more than skiing all day.

It's hard to ski when your peppermint schnapps is room temperature.

I'm very happy to be back home.

Road Warrior

Cayenne Lemonade has gone skiing.

The beer is colder than the slopes, but the company is good.

More later. Like Wednesday.

Phone Booth

I’ve made a lot of phone calls this week to basketball coaches. Once I get them on the phone, things are fine. But finding them is like looking for Waldo. He’s there, but you got to have the good fortune to look in just the right place.

The search starts with a call to the school office.

“Good morning,” I say, “I’d like to speak to Coach __________.”

100% of the time, I get this.

“He’s not here right now.” And then silence.

First of all, I didn’t think he was RIGHT there, or he might have answered the phone. So I say:

“How can I get a hold of him?”

Answer: “Well he has classes to teach, you know.”

Well, now I can’t tell if I’m talking to a jealous school administrator or the coaches mother. As in, “No, Coach __________ can’t come out and play. He has work to do.”

Eventually, with some pleading they agree to take a message to give to him “if he stops by.” So I leave a message and hope he calls back.

For all I know, Bin Laden is a high school basketball coach.

Psycho

The most popular synonyms for this word are:

crazed, crazy, loony, mad, mental, nuts, psychopathic, psychotic, screwy, unbalanced

Anyway, it’s time for the Real Country Music lyric of the day…

My heart is breaking
Like the tiny bubbles
She's acting single
I'm drinking doubles

I know all she plans to do
But I don't know where or when
If I ask who that stranger was
She'll just say, "an old friend"

I'm not weak, I tell myself
I stay because I'm strong
The truth is, I'm not man enough
To stop her from doing me wrong

Or maybe she’s still listed on the mortgage. Anyway…

I tried to look up the antonyms, but there aren’t any. And I suppose if there is no opposite of psycho (or psychotic), then we all must be a little crazed, crazy, loony, mad, mental, nuts, psychopathic, psychotic, screwy, or unbalanced.

Any Given Sunday

We’re thinking of changing churches.

Currently, we are going to a church in a denomination that we agree with completely, but it’s about 35 minutes away and has purchased land to build on that will be about five to seven more minutes away. So we’re looking at 40 minutes to a town we are never in except on Sunday. The people there are great, but we aren’t getting to know anyone or having any instances of “iron sharpening iron.” I need to be held to some kind of accountability so I can feel guilty when I ignore it.

We don’t blame them. You can’t just go on Sunday and have this kind of experience. They are just too far away for us to connect with.

One of our choices here in town are the folks that are against wine and beer sales at the Wal-Mart (and everywhere else if they can help it) and need you to hold your breath in order to satisfy one of the Sacraments without risk of cardiac arrest. And I hate casseroles.

Their website says they have a contemporary service, but when I called to find out what that meant, the lady didn’t know, as she doesn’t go to “that one.” She was pretty sure they worshipped God, but with different music, I’m told. And I could wear my blue jeans. She wasn’t sure about flip-flops.

We, of course, could go to the local office of the worldwide papal dictator, but I have germ issues in regards to drinking from the same cup as 55 other people. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to say at what time and I have bad knees.

We've been there to visit (Ash Wednesday) but we aren’t Catholic.

And, I really don’t trust a minister/preacher/priest that isn’t married. The way I see it, he has no idea of what true humility feels like. I’ve always figured if you went to counseling with him, he’d tell you his secret was complete control of the remote control, not having to tell anyone what he was thinking and never buying the wrong type of garbage bags/carrots/dishwashing detergent.

And besides, I think I’d be the tallest in my catechism class.

The Alamo

A friend of mine in college (Jay) had a poster on the wall in his dorm entitled…."Jay’s Rules for General Behavior"…it was his personal code of conduct. The key ones I remember were to not spindle, fold or mutilate his artwork and to not make fun of small dogs.

In keeping with the spirit, I’m making my own list, but it’s far from complete. More when I have more.

Now, I’m not saying you can’t break these rules. But if you do…it’s a lost cause as far as I’m concerned (in case you were wondering about the title of the post).

Okay, here goes….

Never argue with a black woman. Never argue with a white woman.

I’ve heard Confucius always held that you should never argue with an Asian woman. Leonardo DaVinci said it’s not wise to argue with Italian, European or Australian women (I don’t know how he knew about Australians, but he was pretty smart, so we’ll take his word for it).

Don’t argue with Jewish women. And the Latino women aren’t a good idea, either. Nor Irish, English, Eskimo, Native American, Indian, or Scandinavian.

But if you must, take flowers.

Dumb and Dumber

Dear Al Gore and Nancy Pelosi,

I just thought I’d write and help you with something.

I’ve noticed every time that you try to have a Global Warming event (so that you can create panic in order to tax me more), it snows. So I’ve enclosed a calendar to help you schedule your next one.

A few notes as you turn the pages…
The months of November-February are really bad ideas.
March/April and September/October are usually ok.
May-August are the best months to make your point.

Sincerely,