A month off...sorta

I am going to participate in National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, which begins tomorrow, November 1st. What is NaNoWriMo? Well, here's the official description:

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.
Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Why am I doing this? I have an idea for a novel that I'd like to get started on. As mentioned in the description, this process forces you to focus on creating content and ignore editing and other fine tuning aspects of the writing process that can be daunting and ultimately crippling. So the goal is to wake up on December 1st with a big, misshapen lump of words that needs a ton of tweaking, work that can be done at a more orderly pace. The point is to hurry up and get that lump of words and then figure out what to do with it.

In the meantime, I have to "work" my regular "job" as well as keep up my obligation as contributing editor with SB Nation Tampa Bay, not to mention all the day-to-day madness that occurs as part of "life". Something's gotta give: this blog. Posting here is liable to be less frequent and certainly not as lengthy (stop applauding, please...at least sit down). Having to crank out 1,667 words a day for NaNoWriMo doesn't leave a lot left over for the ol' Trickle. Sorry.
But please don't stop visiting; I am not shutting down!! There will still be content here, as much as I can produce and as often as possible...and there might even be a surprise or two.

So Happy NaNoWriMo. Wish me luck and I'll see you real soon!

PS: If you're participating in NaNoWriMo, please feel free to connect with me via the web site. I'm Clark_Brooks there.

Happy Halloween!

Believe it or not, I have only ever written one actual "joke" in my whole life. I've trotted it out here before but it is as Halloween-appropriate as a naughty nurse's uniform so here it is:

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Ow.
Ow who?
Werewolves of London!

Happy Halloween!

Last minute Halloween help for parents who might be freaking out

Fortunately for me, I don't have any effeminate characteristics, so I will be dressing as Lady Gaga. Again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1taC3JjIOkM&feature=player_embedded

The funniest fundraising pitch you'll see...until I get my Relay For Life campaign going again

Man, I'd be so much funnier if I knew some celebrities.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQTtMXZs2LA&feature=player_embedded

Foreign Art Cinema Appreciation Corner

As I've matured, one of the things I've learned is not to ridicule foreign cultures. I don't know their history. I am not familiar with their customs. I have no idea what influences their tastes. There is no way for me as an outsider to understand the context under which a piece of art is created and appreciated. And so, I present the following without comment.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfYmTJYdeTw

I approve this brilliant idea

I like to think that I'm a marketing genius. Marketing is basically making people want stuff they don't need. That's easy. Human beings are predisposed to do that anyway. Look at the stuff cluttering your surroundings right now and tell me I'm wrong. It's like gently nudging someone standing on the edge of a cliff who climbed up there to jump anyway. The only challenge is finding a way to stand out and draw attention away from your competition. So if you're even slightly creative, being a marketing genius is not that difficult.

If I worked in the political arena, where I would apply my marketing genius is in conveying a consistent message. *GASP! WHAT A CONCEPT!* No, not on issues and such. Who gives a shit about that? I mean in public presentation. What you have right now are words and images that don't gibe. Nasty accusations and character assaults delivered with warm, flawless, toothy grins. Like this: 

"Die, blood-sucking corporate douchebag"     "Up yours, Maoist."

This is disingenuous and deceitful behavior and it's no wonder why the public doesn't trust these people. So all I would have to do to stand out from my competition would be to remain consistent in my message and demeanor. Now, I could advise the candidate to follow the mean and nasty path, which would be fun and make for good tv, but I'd probably go the other way and one of our ads would sound something like this:

"Hi there. As you know, I'm running for _________ and I'm seeking your vote. My opponent and I have fundamental philosophical differences of opinion but I don't believe that makes them a bad person. In fact, I think they've had some good ideas and done solid work over the years. If nothing else, they should be commended for their commitment to public service. I would never demean or insult their character, or yours by extension, since so many of you support them. I just believe that I have some new and better ideas and that I'm better suited for the job at this time, that's all. 
Since it's impossible for any reasonably intelligent person to form an educated opinion on complex issues based on a sixty second television ad, I'm not even going to make an attempt to influence you to do so now. Instead, I'd like to invite you to check out some of my ideas and proposals when you have time to do so without the distraction of a ball game or talk show or whatever program this particular ad is airing in the middle of. You can visit my web site or even stop by my campaign headquarters, whatever's best for you. If I happen to be there, I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Okay, I got carried away and lost any semblance of reality with the second paragraph but you get the general idea 

Come and knock on our door...

Something strikes me as odd about the whole Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill/Virginia Thomas thing that blew up last week...

Why in the hell does Virginia Thomas have Anita Hill's phone number? 

Somebody I mentioned this to said that she probably kept it because she never got over her hurt feelings around the relationship between her husband and Ms. Hill when those two were introduced as America's Sweethearts 19 years ago. Well, maybe. But I believe that 19 years is exactly the maximum amount of time that someone should be allowed to be pissed off about something before getting over it. Think about it: when you were 19, were you still upset about whatever it is that bothered you when you were an infant? You probably didn't even remember being upset. You were though. Ask your mom. She has pictures (and they're adorable). Yes, 19 years should be the statute of limitations for getting over stuff because if you can't resolve hurt feelings in the time that passes between conceiving a child and the day that child is old enough to serve in the armed forces, there's something wrong with you beyond whatever hurt your feelings (exceptions to this statute would be slavery, the Holocaust and having European settlers steal your continent, because they're kinda culturally grandfathered in at this point).
Besides, I'm less concerned with why she has the phone number now than I am about why she had it in the first place. All I can picture is an awkward conversation while waiting for an elevator at the Supreme Court hearings:
"Well, that was...weird."
"Yeah."
"Listen, uh, I..."
"What?"
"Nothing! I didn't do a thing! Look, I'm way over here! Geez! What?"
"Oh, sorry...I just thought you were going to say something..."
"No! Well, nothing...important, or anything. No big deal."
"What is it?"
"I was just thinking...you know, if you want...we could, you know, keep in touch or something."
"..."
"I mean, we have a crazy history, you and me. Shared experiences and stuff..."
"..."
"I don't know. No big deal. Forget it."
"Clarence, what would your wife think about that?"
"Ginny? She's down! In fact, it was her idea!"
"Seriously?"
"Oh yeah! Totally!"
"Well, I guess that's not strange or anything then. Sure, here's my private phone number."
"Sweet!" 

Another self-imposed hiatus. Sorry.

Right now, I am part of a group of people I despise: pet owners who can't honor their commitment (SPOILER ALERT: If you're somebody who has never loved a pet, you're not going to be able to relate to anything that follows so just stop reading now and spare me any "they're just animals" sentiment, okay? Thanks.). The kind of people who get a dog or a cat because they looked cute and then once they find out there's work involved, they give up and abandon the animal. I'm one of those people now.
The reason why is stupid and complicated and not important to the story, but I have to give away my pet cats. Soon. By the end of the month. I found out just under a week ago and since then I've been negotiating, begging and trying to come up with options and I have failed. And that's the bottom line: I've failed. I've had these cats for a very long time, their entire lives basically. Over that time, I committed to their care and keeping and now I'm just abandoning them. What kind of person does that?
I'm sick over the whole thing right now, on a lot of different levels (rest assured, I am thoroughly hating myself, so that's covered). Mostly I'm anxious over finding a place for them to live. There are horriffic stories about things that happen to domesticated animals, particularly cats, particularly around here, these days. How can I possibly make sure no harm comes to them? I can't. That, aside from sadness and loneliness I'm already feeling even though they're still here, is the most difficult
Anyway, this issue currently dominates my mind and is inhibiting, among other things, my ability to share the kind of stuff I normally share here so I'm going to need to take a break from posting here until it's resolved, whatever that eventually entails. Like I said, if you've never loved a pet, you won't be able to relate, but I hope you at least understand. Thanks.

The The

Does the message on this billboard appeal to you? Does it make you want to listen to that particular radio station? If so, that's fine, but just be advised that it might mean you are an elderly person. "Why?", you ask. "Because I don't like rap or hip-hop or whatever it's called? Well, excuse me but I like real music. That doesn't make me old or elderly or whatever you said. The only thing it means is that I have taste.So why don't you just stick it up..."

Hey, relax!! That's not why I'm saying it (even though your reaction was exactly the kind that an elderly person would have). It's not the word "rap", it's the word "the". Elderly people have a habit of assigning an unnecessary "the" to things that are foreign to them that they don't care for or understand. Examples of things the elderly have feared/disliked/mistrusted where they've used the superfluous "the" to establish a distance from that which makes them uncomfortable and express a reluctance to establish familiarity:

• "The rock and roll" (as opposed to "rock and roll")
• "The crippled" (disabled people)
• "The Twitter" (Twitter)

And so you don't want to listen to the rap? Suit yourself. Don't listen to the rap, old timer.

I hope Tampa is part of America in December

Only Prince can announce a concert tour and not tell anybody where and when.

Boo! (I mean that in a good way)



Get it? Scary + carrots? Haw haw!

 I have long been an advocate of handing out vegetables on Halloween. There is nothing like the look on a young trick-or-treater's face when you drop a bag of frozen peas or a can of stewed tomatoes into their sack of Fun-sized Butterfingers and Milky Ways...except for maybe their parents. I've been doing it for years and will keep on doing it because it will always be funny.
It's nice to see that some of the produce people have a sense of humor about their product as well:

A Bunch of Carrot Farmers and Bolthouse Farms, the people behind this summer's $25 million "Eat 'em like junk food" campaign from Crispin Porter + Bogusky, are launching Scarrots, a bag of 25 single-serve 1.7-ounce bags of baby carrots that are intended for distribution to trick-or-treaters -- Brandfreak.com

Hilarious!


I saw some of the "Eat 'em like junk food" ads, like this one, this summer:

Also hilarious, right? But are baby carrots really a suitable substitute for traditional junk food snacks? Well, I went out and bought some (point, marketing campaign) and ate them while doing some writing and I have to say...yes, yes they are. You can mindlessly stuff them into your mouth one after another and they're crunchy, they're sweet and, an added bonus, not even a little bit messy. I hate a disgusting, greasy, salt-crumb-covered keyboard, so as far as I'm concerned, they're actually better than amy kind of chips or popcorn or especially Cheetos. And that's not even factoring in the nutritional factors.
So anyway, yeah, I'm a big fan of baby carrots now (another point, marketing campaign) and in two weeks, the kids in my neghborhood will be too, like it or not.

Abandon all hope, and don't forget to punch out for lunch

If you're a manager, it's very important that you're capable of effectively communicating information to your staff. This can be accomplished in a number of ways. Email? Sure. Very modern! Memos? Absolutely. Proven effective! Face-to-face conversation? Hmmm, I'm not sure about that. How about the next best thing: a good old fashioned, hand-written message on a dry erase board displayed in the employee break area!

• Well, of course you want the staff to know that you're concerned about their problems.
• Well, of course you want them to address the situation promptly, utilizing the internal chain of command.
• Well, of course you want them to become utterly dependent on you and establish the company as their sole benefactor by removing all hope that anyone outside of the company could or would ever advocate on their behalf or provide any assistance whatsoever.

Wait a minute, what now?

Oh okay. Just checking. Carry on.

Retro Comedy Reboot!

Classic is classic.

That's why things that are called classic are called classic; because they are!

You simply can not improve upon a classic.

But you can make it better!

That's what's behind the whole reboot craze in Hollywood; taking something that's already a classic and making it better by making brand new money off of it. That's why you have reboots of Robin Hood, The Pink Panther, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Star Trek, The Karate Kid, The Incredible Hulk, The Incredible Hulk and The Incredible Hulk. A reboot is different from a remake in that you're not really making anything at all, you're just updating something that already exists and infusing it with more style. And style = excitement.

Reboots take old stories...excuse me, classic tales...and update them to fit and appeal to a more modern sensibility. Because while the classics may be great for what they were (and they are!) this generation is far more hip, savvy and sophisticated and demands more "edge" from their entertainment.

Now, you might be asking are old movies and folk tales the only things that can be rebooted? Of course not! Anything can be rebooted; songs, movies, books (probably not books) and films too! What about old jokes? Yes! You betcha those old-timey chestnuts can be dusted off, buffed to a high shine, dressed in a leather diaper and sent out into the world to amuse the world all over again. See for yourself... 

ME: Why did the little boy throw his alarm clock out of the window?

YOU: I don't know. Why?

ME: Because he has severe emotional problems and is a borderline sociopath who should never, ever, under any circumstances, be left alone with people, animals or time-keeping devices. Where is he?

YOU: I-I don't know. I think he's upstairs, playing in his room.

ME: Oh God, you're home alone with him right now? Listen to me; get out of there. Now. Just leave. Don't take anything. Go to a neighhbor's house, lock the doors and stay away from the windows. And clocks. Go! Now! Call me once you're safe there.

YOU: ...

ME: Hello? Hello?? Are you there? Hello?!?

LITTLE BOY: I'm here, Clark...

ME: Gyaaaahh!

LITTLE BOY: Tick-tock, tick-tock...

Loathe in an elevator

I like riding in elevators.
For one thing, an elevator is not stairs. Stairs are work. An elevator is a ride. It goes up and it goes down, slowly, and that's all. Like the low-stressingest thrill ride on the whole midway. Well, unless something goes wrong, in which case it becomes a hurtling steel box of death. Other than that, I mean. Or maybe it's more like a bus (also a hurtling steel box of death). The kind of bus driven by an invisible computer where everybody stands (that seems fair!) and there is music.
For another thing, I'm pretty good at it. When I'm in one by myself, going up, I like to stand right in the middle, my feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms akimbo with my hands balled into fists. Going down, my feet are together, knees locked, my arms are straight at my side, palms facing downward. I do this because when I'm in an elevator by myself, I like to pretend I'm wearing rocket boots and I'm actually flying (in slow motion) up or down in the building.
Again, that's when I'm by myself.
When there are other people present, etiquette demands different behavior.

1. Act very shy and demure. When greeting fellow passengers, make slight eye contact with one or two other passengers but then IMMEDIATELY avert your gaze elsewhere. Maybe mumble "g'morning" if you're feeling particularly flamboyant but that's it. Model your behavior after that of an Amish debutante and you'll be fine. EXCEPTION: If you came running across the lobby and caught the elevator at the last possible second, you're allowed to seem harried but get it together quick. Apologize and say thank you for making everyone wait an extra half second and be embarrassed about what you've done until you get to your floor.
2. Push the button for the floor you want to visit so the invisible computer knows where to go. If someone pushes the button for your floor before you do, don't just stand there. That's going to make the other person think you're either some freak who just rides around aimlessly on elevators or stalking them. I'm not sure which is worse. Both are bad. Instead, lean in as if you were going to push it...BUT DON'T! The message you want to convey is, "Ah. I need to go to the 7th floor, but if the fact that the button is now illuminated when it previously was not means anything, and I think it does, it appears that you do as well and have already pushed the button for BOTH of our sakes. I didn't notice that you did that, but since you did, well done!" Otherwise, you're telling that person that you lack faith in their ability to push a button. You think they're an idiot? You think you can push a button better than them, hot shot? Look, it's already lit up and everything. Why don't you just settle down. It's a call button, not an accelerator pedal. Relax. You'll get to the 7th floor just fine.
3. For chrissakes, don't push all the buttons. What are you, 12? 
4. Unless you're reasonably sure you can get out of there without anybody knowing you did it, in which case, rock on, because that is classic and hilarious.
5. Once on, and all the appropriate buttons have been pushed, assume the rider position: turned around facing the doors, because even though you're going to be in there for a while and bells and lights will alert you when it's time to get off, it's important for some reason to be ready to leap right out in case the doors open with no warning at all. Also, be standing up (no leaning!), with your eyes fixed on the numbers as they light up. Look! There's 7. I'll bet 8 is next...DING! Yep! Just like I thought. And here comes...DING! 9! I knew it! I swear, I was going to say 9!
6. If you feel you absolutely have to improvise and do something different than everybody else, Robin Williams, go ahead and study the certificate posted above the button panel. Lots of good info there. What kind of elevator is it anyway? Traction passenger? Okay then.  Who's the Secretary of Elevator Safety? Charlie Liem. All right. What's the approved weight limit? 3500 lbs. Hmm, we're probably okay. Hey, no smoking! There's no smoking in here! Anybody smoking? No? Good. WARNING: You're basically assuming the role of Safety Officer if something goes wrong. Sure you can handle that responsibility, Rip Taylor?
7. Whatever you do, don't talk. No talking! Everybody has a lot on their mind. Plus, they're afraid of you. Who starts a conversation on an elevator? Perverts, that's who. And rapists.
8. Do I even have to mention farting?

Klassic Kartoon Time!

This is great but may not be around long once the Kopyright Kops find out. So enjoy while you can!

First there was Relay, then there was The Race

I participated in the the Susan G Komen Florida Suncoast Race for the Cure Saturday morning. The weather was beautiful, Vinoy Park was packed and it was a great time. Our team came up just a wee bit short of hitting our goal but you can still contribute if you like, just click the link above. In the meantime, here are a few photos...

 You gotta start somewhere.

 This is our team, the LoveBees Lovers. There are a few holdovers from Team Daddy-O Alley Katz, but for the most part, this is a new band, playing new songs.

 And we're off! As in front...

 ...so behind

 Part of this event involves decorating porta-potties. This one is ours. Let me tell you, there are better ways to make a good first impression on people then saying hello to them with a camera in your hand as they exit a portable toilet bright and early on a Saturday morning.

Orange slices: the perfect post-race breakfast treat.

Clark Brooks, Cancer Hater

Hi, I’m Clark Brooks. You may know me from such anti-cancer events as “Temple Terrace Relay For Life 2008” and “Temple Terrace Relay For Life 2009: Electric Boogaloo”. I’m here today to tell you about my involvement with a new anti-cancer event, the Susan G Komen Florida Suncoast Race for the Cure. Well, it’s not a new event but my involvement with it is. I’m in as a member of LoveBees Lovers, in honor of my dear friend Donna who Loves Bees (hey, don’t ask me; I don’t cast judgment on whatever freaky stuff you people are into…although that sounds like something of a contradiction, in which case, Wow, look how complex I am!). A bunch of likeminded fools and me are heading to Vinoy Park in St. Pete this Saturday at 7:30 a.m. to Race for the Cure, as opposed to what I would normally do on a Saturday morning, which is Race for a Breakfast Burrito (actually, I’m going to do both…shh, don’t tell).

You, on the other hand, got it made. You get to stay in bed under the cozy covers. Seems almost unfair, doesn’t it? Man! You’re right, it is grossly unjust! What can we do about it? Oh wait, I know! Tell you what, you chip in a buck or two for the cause and I’ll just look the other way. I’ll even bring you a breakfast burrito if there are any left over (note: I really doubt that’s gonna happen so don’t hold your breath)

Think about it; I get up early and do the race while you sleep in with a (nearly non-existent) chance of having a delicious breakfast burrito served to you in bed, all in the name of fighting breast cancer. I challenge you to find a sweeter deal (but if you do, please keep it to yourself so you don’t screw up what I’ve got going over here).

The Poetry Meeting

I was at one of my favorite local establishments the other day, just killing some time and talking to the manager who is a dear and relentlessly patient and tolerant friend when the staff started re-arranging the furniture. "What's going on?", I asked. My friend answered, "They're setting up for the poetry meeting tonight." "A poetry meeting? What the hell is that?" "Just what it sounds like. They're a group of local poets and they get together sometimes and talk about poetry." At this point I began to laugh. Hard. And obnoxiously loud. Howling might be a better description. "A meeting about poetry? You've got to be kidding me!" "Hey, be nice. You're a writer. You should be more supportive." Of course, she's right. But I'm also a jerk. "Please, Poetry is for songwriters who can't play guitar. The only thing I can think of that's more useless than a bunch of poets hanging around and reciting poetry is a bunch of poets hanging around not even reciting poetry." Of course, I didn't stick around to see if it was interesting or entertaining or of any artistic merit whatsoever (what fun would that be?) but that doesn't stop me from visualizing how it went down...

THE POETRY MEETING

"Okay everyone. Let's be seated. Welcome! It's great to see all of you again, and I notice we have some newcomers as well. Welcome to you folks also! Let's get started. Does anyone have any new business? Yes, Amber?"
"Yes. I would like to spend the entire meeting staring at this dead flower and weeping softly."
"Well, I was looking for new business and that's pretty standard..."
"I'm going to do it anyway."
"Okay, well, then I don't think we need a vote. Let's move on. Anybody else? Yes, Edna?"
"I'd like it on the record that sarcasm and juvenile humor in a critique is not helpful. As you all know, my poetry is inspired by the beauty of nature, specifically birds and flowers and fauna. I take a great deal of pride in my work and to read a critique that sounds like something scrawled in a public restroom is hurtful to me."
"Yes Edna, that is..."
"And I'd like to say that parody is a valid form of criticism and an art form in it's own rite and if somebody is too thin-skinned for poetry, maybe they should take up cross-stitching."
"Hold on, Stan..."
"Scribbling 'How much wood could a woodcock block if a woodcock could block cock' on a napkin and stapling to my poem is not a form of parody!"
"All right, Edna and Stan, I'm just going to recommend that you not read or critique each other's work, and maybe you shouldn't really even interact with one another..."
"But she's my ride here!"
"I'm your wife, you ass!"
"Excuse me. Excuse me please."
"Ah yes, one of the new people! Welcome! What's your name, fellow creative spirit?"
"Um, my name is Darnell and I'm an up-and-coming hip-hop artist."
"That's fantastic! See everyone? Hip-hop is the language of today's streets. It's poetry presented in a dynamic, vibrant form, speaking directly to young people. It's raw and passionate and exciting. And most importantly, it's living, breathing proof that the art of poetry is continuing to evolve! What's on your mind, Darnell?"
"I have completely run out of words that rhyme with 'bitch' and was hoping somebody here might have some suggestions."
"..."
"I've got a few for you, son!"
"Oh, shut up, Stan."

Outlaws, my eye

Last night at "work", I found myself listening to some soft rock music piped in for atmosphere and the song "Ride Like The Wind" by Christopher Cross came on. It's been a long time since I heard it so I paid attention to the lyrics. And after carefully considering them, all I can say is: Bullshit.
For starters, this is a picture of Christopher Cross:

Try to ignore that he looks like your Aunt Shelly who lives in Boca Raton with her "best friend" Susan (or don't) but do try to focus on him being the guy behind these lyrics:

It is the night. My body's weak.
I'm on the run. No time to sleep.
I've got to ride.

Ride like the wind to be free again.
And I got such a long way to go.
To make it to the border of Mexico.
So I'll ride like the wind.

I was born the son of a lawless man.
Always spoke my mind with a gun in my hand.
Lived nine lives
gunned down ten.
Gonna ride like the wind.

(chorus)

Accused and tried and told to hang
I was no where in sight
when the church bells rang.
Never was the kind to do as I was told.
Gonna ride like the wind before I get old.

That's not Lil' Wayne or TI, that's the guy picture above, the one who looks like he's waiting for his longtime companion to fetch another round of mimosas. The song doesn't mention what the unspeakable crime was (it's that unspeakable!) but I can't even imagine the authorities being that worried about nailing Christopher Cross before he escapes across the border. "Attention all units: Keep an eye out for a doughy white guy...wait, what? He might be with Michael McDonald? This changes everything; TWO doughy white guys, fugitives, believed to be heading for Mexico. Apprehend on sight...but don't, like, put yourself out or anything. Maybe just beef up patrols around the breakfast bar at the Chula Vista Shoney's. That should be fine."

I don't mean to pick on Christopher Cross. Because it seems to me that by and large, rock and roll stars do a pretty shitty job of portraying bad asses and outlaws. Oh sure, there are some legitimate bad asses out there. But for every band that comes across more like a street gang than a rock band, you get four or five skeevy, Kid Rock-like posers. Or worse, for every Toby Keith you get a Toby Keith. That's right, this guy...

Really doesn't want you to know about this guy...

Hey, I don't remember Toby Keith being in DeBarge! Say meow, kitty.

But where the illusion really falls down is in the songs. Here are some truly laughable attempts by some well-known artists to spin tales of rock 'n roll desperado derring-do...

PAUL MCCARTNEY & WINGS: BAND ON THE RUN

Well, the rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun
And the first one said to the second one there I hope you're having fun
Band On The Run, Band On The Run.
And the jailer man and Sailor Sam were searching everyone
For the band on the run
Band on the run
Band on the run
Band on the run
And the jailer man and Sailor Sam were searching every one

So Paul and his mates have escaped from jail into the desert where he swears they'll never be found, presumably free to live out their days performing concerts for local indigents and smoking whatever vegetation they come across (which I'm pretty sure would be Paul McCartney's dream come true). This in spite of the local authorities enlisting the help of some naval personnel to apprehend them. Normally, you'd think this kind of thing would fall out of their jurisdiction but if you're stationed at a naval base in the middle of some damn desert, what else do you have to do?

THE STEVE MILLER BAND: TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN

This heres a story about Billy Joe and Bobbie Sue
Two young lovers with nothin better to do
Than sit around the house, get high, and watch the tube
And here is what happened when they decided to cut loose

They headed down to, ooh, old El Paso
That's where they ran into a great big hassle
Billy Joe shot a man while robbing his castle
Bobbie Sue took the money and run

Go on take the money and run
Go on take the money and run
Go on take the money and run
Go on take the money and run

Billy Mack is a detective down in Texas
You know he knows just exactly what the facts is
He aint gonna let those two escape justice
He makes his livin off of the peoples taxes

Bobbie Sue, whoa, whoa, she slipped away
Billy Joe caught up to her the very next day
They got the money, hey
You know they got away
They headed down south and they're still running today
Singin go on take the money and run
Go on take the money and run

Well, now we're getting somewhere! Steve Miller isn't singing about himself or his band as fugitives on the run. Instead, he casts a couple of TV-addled burnouts in those roles. Okay, so it's not the legend of Butch and Sundance but at least it's believable for a change. I can even believe they got away (in spite of the honorable public servant Mack's dedication to his job, if they got across the border, there's nothing he can do about it) and are still running today...but possibly not together. Bobbie Sue tried to ditch Billy Joe once. It's impossible to believe she wouldn't try it again. Theirs is not a relationship built on trust.

BON JOVI: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE and BLAZE OF GLORY

It's all the same, only the names will change
Everyday it seems we're wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home

I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive

Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're alone all you do is think

I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back
I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces an I've rocked them all

I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
I'm a cowboy, I got the night on my side
I'm wanted dead or alive
And I ride, dead or alive
I still drive, dead or alive
Dead or alive

I wake up in the morning
And I raise my weary head
I've got an old coat for a pillow
And the earth was last night's bed
I don't know where I'm going
Only God knows where I've been
I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover
A candle in the wind, yeah

When you're brought into this world
They say you're born in sin
Well at least they gave me something
I didn't have to steal or have to win
Well, they tell me that I'm wanted
Yeah, I'm a wanted man
I'm a colt through your stable
I'm what Cain was to Abel
Mister catch me if you can

I'm going down (down) in a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
I'm going out (out) in a blaze of glory
And Lord, I never drew first but I drew first blood
I'm no one's son, call me young gun

You ask about my conscience
And I offer you my soul
You ask if I'll grow to be a wise man
Well I ask if I'll grow old
You ask me if I've known love
And what it's like to sing songs in the rain
Well I've seen love come, I've seen it shot down
I've seen it die in vain

Shot down (down) in a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
'Cause I'm going down (down) in a blaze of glory
Lord, I never drew first but I drew first blood
I'm the devil's son, call me young gun, na... yeah

Each night I go to bed
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
No I ain't looking for forgiveness
But before I'm six foot deep
Lord, I gotta ask a favor
And I hope you'll understand
'Cause I've lived life to the fullest
Let this boy die like a man
Staring down a bullet
Let me make my final stand

Shot down (down) in a blaze of glory
Take me now but know the truth
I'm going out (out) in a blaze of glory
Lord, I never drew first but I drew first blood
I'm no one's son, call me young gun
I'm a young gun, yeah
Young gun, yeah..., Young gun

One time I went to a hockey game with a friend. An advertisement for an upcoming Bon Jovi concert came on the jumbotron and he just started laughing hysterically. I didn't really get that at the time but upon listening to songs like this/these, I do now. I entered this as one entry because I wasn't sure it was two songs. And reading it like this, I'm still not sure. It's like The Godfather and The Godfather II of cheesy, Aquanet-drenched, nihilistic rock 'n roll acid-washed denim outlaw cowboy fantasies and now I don't know how more people don't just burst into hysterics upon hearing the first chords, knowing the full-of-shitness that follows. Unlike the other examples posted above, Bon Jovi doesn't escape and doesn't even seem to want to, I guess because some people still think a doomed anti-hero is somehow cooler than somebody who actually has their shit together enough to get themselves out of their own predicament. But the boasting here doesn't sound cool or particularly tough, at least not consistently; one minute he's a devil on the run, the next he's a candle in the wind? Is he Marilyn Manson or Marilyn Monroe? And he's wanted for what, rocking faces? I guess a million of them is a lot, but exactly how many faces are you allowed to rock before it's a felony, punishable by death?

This is what I imagine it sounds like when some dumbass, lily-white, punk-ass teenager from a gated suburb community gets locked up in the county jail for a couple of hours because he thought it would be funny to throw his soft drink at the clerk in a fast food drive thru and got caught so he feels the need to invent a tough backstory to try to impress the actual thugs he finds himself in there with in the hopes that it keeps them from ripping off the tightey-whiteys his mom just washed for him that day and turning him into some guy named Big Rob's girlfriend.

What a punk-ass. By comparison, Christopher Cross comes across like Scarface Capone.

Interview: Alex On The Edge

I love weird people. I'm being completely sincere. In my humble opinion, no form of entertainment on earth even comes close to simply observing/listening to/interacting with people who are a bit...off-center. These days, those people are harder to find. Either they're wrapped up in the conformity-via-individuality myth ("I want to stand out from the crowd just like everybody else!") being perpetrated by various imagemakers and trendsetters or they're so friggin' off the wall that they're actually dangerous ("Guns! Bibles! Certain parts of the Constitution! Down with everything else!") that the good ol' fashioned All-American Weirdo has become an endangered species. But luckily, there are still a few out there. Recently, I found one and I'd like to share her with you.

Her name is Alex Edgerton. She has a blog and she posts on Twitter. Here are some highlights:

"The girl I'm stalking is awesome! She's so cute when she acts like she doesn't love me :) "

"My therapist says to stay away from negative people. So I've been trying to avoid myself as much as possible." 

"I'm gonna buy low & trade high. Or buy low & lose money. One of those 2."

"People make me so mad. Well not ALL people. Just my mother."

"Why is Bristol Palin on 'Dancing w/ The Stars'? What makes her a star? It's not 'Dancing w/ Teen Moms'"

She's also a poet:

If you don't water the tree,
it won't grow and give you fruit.
And one day you're gonna be hungry, bitch.

And a philosopher:

"The luckiest people in the world are the ones who are too stupid to care."

Isn't she great? I should ask her to marry me! Oh wait, I already did...  

HER: "Lets DO! Although we might fuckin kill each other cuz we're both moody people" 

ME: "Well, I don't think there's any way we could actually live with each other. But I think we'd have fun at social gatherings!"

HER: "LOL! Yeah social gatherings would be a blast. Specially since we're both such cheerful socialites!"

I think she's perfect! Sure, she's a lesbian with a completely dysfunctional family but every relationship takes some work I've dealt with tougher circumstances. Still, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know her better, so I asked her some interview questions, which I will share with you all now...

Sometimes people think that those who speak their mind are crazy. Do you think that's a sign of being crazy?

"I think it's a sign of being confident & not giving a damn what people think."

Do you think you're crazy?

"Yes. We all are. I'm crazy in a good way. My crazy is better than everyone else's crazy. I'm blessed."

Are you aware of how funny you are?

"Absolutely. I am god damn hilarious. I make MYSELF laugh sometimes."

Is everything you say straight up, raw truth or do you sometimes say things for effect?

"I sometimes exaggerate for the entertainment value. But for the most part, it's right on the money."

Even the stuff about your mom and dad, aunts and uncles, etc.?

"You can't make this shit up. Swear to god the family stuff is for real."

What's something that has always annoyed you?

"My mother".

What's something new that's annoying you?

"The wasp nest outside my house."

When I suggested we get married, you said it was a good idea except we might kill each other. If you were going to kill me, as your husband, how would you do it?

"I'd have to make it look like an accident because when I kill, I do it well. I'd probably go with the idea from Eminem's latest song; tie you to the bed post & set the house on fire. Mind you, this would appear to be an accidental fire. Oh I'd also have a big fuckin' life insurance policy on you. How would you kill ME? We need to sort this out before we get married."

I'd do something classy. Shakespeare used poison to kill a lot of his characters. And daggers. But daggers seem like a lot of work and kind of messy. I think a nice poison would work best for me.

What are your plans for the upcoming holidays? 

"Are holidays upcoming? Ok um... Halloween is the soonest so I plan to rob a few kids for their candy. I really like candy." 

For even more awesomeness, visit Alex On The Edge.