The Second Tuesday in April...

Time now for the *Real County Music lyric of the day…

Cruising in my station wagon trying to keep my muffler from dragging
Sometimes it seems so defeating as I’m trying to make it to the Cub Scout meeting
Ooh I dream about Mexico Where all the pretty people go
We’re on a budget that just won’t budge, not much money but a whole lot of love

Living that domestic life, happy children and a pretty wife
Our cocker spaniel’s always having puppies, how can anybody be so lucky
See me mowing my domestic yard, lord I owe my soul to Master Card
But it seems to suit me to a tee, that domestic life’s all right with me

Our neighbor’s names are Fred and Ruth; he wears a lot of leisure suits
She sells Avon and Tupperware too, we’re always ducking all the bull they shoot
Ooh I’ll never be president and we never seem to save a cent
But things are looking better everyday, hell I’m sergeant at arms of the PTA

And unfortunately, no time for anything else…

*The Real Country Music lyric of the day are real lyrics heard on the radio station of my employment. We occasionally hear The Streak and Foggy Mountain Breakdown, too. Who'd have thought?

The only thing the NYT is good for...

Greek letter fill-in
Nice way to say thanks
A cigar ending
Brand of vault used in banks

It’s the guy that wrote Billy Budd
Hot-shooting Basketballer Pete
It's the old-style grape drink
And an Abrev. of what you are when you're on your feet

Jazz singer James
Who lived at Green Gables
Belgic type of beer
An old writer of Fables

Med school subj.
Seed from an Oak tree
The constellation with a belt
And the Middle name of Robert Lee

The answers to these Crossword clues
Are found in lines underneath these
I don't have time for this anymore
I'm too busy learning Chinese...

(well, actually not, but I'm tired of looking at this)

It's Tau, Merci, Ette and Wilson
Melvin, Maravich, Nehi and Ped
It's Etta and Anne, Bock and Aesop
And Anat, Acorn, Orion and (who could forget?) Ed

Nothing rhymes with ex-cathedra…

As a wee small lad
In freezing Minnesota
We had neighbors whose church
Adhered to ex-cathedra

And it seemed that all year long
On Fridays they only ate
(Not merely for Lenten days-mind you)
Fish from their dinner plate

They usually cooked it in oil
Or we went to Mickey D’s
I remember Filet-o-fish and a side of fries
Balanced on my little knees

I didn’t have the internet to help
So I was alone to decide
But it seemed obvious to me
The first part of the day sounded like Fried

(I also figured my parents got married on a Wednesday)

Later on, I learned that the name
Had nothing to do with Fry
Because 15 minutes ago
I googled and read the reason why

(And it’s a good thing…)

Because now that frying has become evil
And renders the body weak
I’m afraid if the Democrats got their way
There would only be six days in the week

*If it really does run…we won’t go catch it, I promise

My TBR (To be Read or in my case to be experienced) for April

Don’t Forget the Dumpster on Highway 125 is the story of a man who lives outside the city limits and therefore can’t get garbage pickup at his house. He is forced to put the garbage in the trunk of his car to take to various clandestine sites around the county.

I Should Have Bought a Truck, Too is the sequel to Don’t Forget the Dumpster of Highway 125. In this story, the man wishes he could get the huge plastic drainpipe off his property.

Well, Just Stand with Your Head Cocked to the Side is about a guy who is tired of arguing that the curtains are just fine and not crooked.

There’s Got to be a Way to Kill This is a story of a man who wishes he didn’t own 1.67 acres of land, complete with growing grass. It is a follow-up to But I Don’t Want to Own a Lawn Mower, a story that appeared in the March 15, 2007 issue of the Wall Street Journal.

It’s Us Again, You Know the Address is the tale of a family that can’t seem to solve various plumbing problems including the toilet running* all the time.

The rhyming radio man...

With millions hanging on the edge of their seat...

Everyday I read the weather
Whether it be nice or it be fair
I read it with a tone of interest
It's my job to read it on the air

I read the chance of rain
And I read the low and the high
And I read mostly or partly
Five times as the day goes by

But the problem comes later
When I'm heading off to bed
Holli asks me what the forecast is
And I realize I forgot what I said

You should see what I originally wrote...or maybe not.

Long Island, NY -- A conspiracy was uncovered when a man and his wife were charged with child abandonment after authorities found out they had been dropping their child off at a government building where almost total strangers would raise them from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm Monday through Friday.

"We thought everyone was doing it," explained the man. "After all, the people in charge there care about them as much as we do, don't they?"

The scandal deepened when scores of other parents were found to be putting the children on public transportation (large yellow buses) to deliver them to the government building. In some cases, the children were seen bringing home propaganda and other materials they were to memorize in hopes of pleasing their daytime caretakers.

More on this as it develops.

10,435 and counting...

My creative juices today have been sopped up by the knowledge that I’m really not very bright.

And all because I have to go to Radio Shack today and I’m dreading it.

I need this certain cable, but unless it is lying on the floor two feet from the front door glowing in neon, I won’t be able to find it.

Then I will have to ask and I will then be asked a follow-up or a clarifying question and I won’t know the answer.

So then it will appear I didn’t have any idea what I was doing in the first place when I came in.

So I’ll buy the wrong thing or I’ll buy nothing.

And just knowing that one more person will think I’m an idiot (to add to the others) is what has killed off any witty thoughts that may have been there in the first place.

Wardrobe Malfunction...

I really hate my jeans
They don’t fit at a good spot
I looked and I looked and I asked
Is this style all that you’ve got?

(The socks, well, they’re just socks)

My boxers ride up on me
“It these damn jeans' fault!” I shout
But I’m not going back to briefs
And I’m not going to go without

(Well, yes, my shoes are fine, but I hate these damn jeans)

My shirt won’t tuck in my jeans
It can’t reach down that low
I didn’t know when I bought it
Where fashion trends would go

(And a belt doesn’t seem to help - you can't turn to alcohol for everything)

I don’t hate the younger bunch
I just really hate their taste
Their fashion needs a hit man
Or just more inches in the waist

Why tough doesn't rhyme with cough...

I’ve entered a poetry contest.

After I get in from deer hunting or changing the oil in my pickup, I like to sit down and crank out a few lines. I usually have a beer and a chaw of tobacco while I post it to the web.

Which brings us to the real county music lyric of the day
I drive a nineteen eighty-eight Ford Pick-up truck.

Girls don't break up with me
I break up with them first!

I don't shave the hair on my face
Because beards are tough.

I fart, burp, spit, when I want
Not caring who is nearby

Disrespect my momma
and I will punch you in the eye!

I am a Manly Man!

I’d write more about this, but Extreme Fighting Championship is coming up on ESPN.

Things they don't tell you at Harvard Business School...

I made a sales call today.

Before that, I went to Taco Bell. This may or may not be related to the fact that I wanted to throw up.

I asked to speak to the owner. Let’s call him Fred. Well, I’m going to anyway.

“Is Fred there?” I asked with tremendous self-confidence.

Well, Fred wasn’t in but James could talk to me, he’s in charge of advertising, not Fred.

James listened for almost two seconds (I got to say my name and half of the call letters of the station) and then lit into me.

“We ain’t buying no advertising right now, bud,” (he called me “bud”), “So I might as well save you some time.” And then he hung up on me.

(apparently the man in charge of advertising isn’t the man in charge of public relations)

As my wife will tell you, you can’t get rid of me by just hanging up on me once. So I called him back.

This time I did the talking to begin with. I told him I didn’t appreciate his attitude and we needed to start over. He agreed and said….

“We ain’t buying no advertising right now, bud,” he said, “So I might as well save you some time.”

This wasn’t the starting over I was hoping for, but he didn’t end it there. I then was treated to his two- minute rant about how he had 10 calls in the last 30 minutes for advertising (yeah sure) and he needed to be selling his product, not talking to me. It was like a tantrum thrown by a two-year- old who didn’t want to go to bed.

I couldn’t believe how childish he was.

So, I did the only thing I could.

I called Fred at home and tattled on him.