This is what I am doing tomorrow . . . the SUP surfing part, not, oh, what is wrong with you?

It’s kinda of a thing thing, Miss Thing, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


Tensions are high between North and South Korea; I haven’t seen North and South Korea this upset at each other since that big debate over whether it is best to wok-fry or grill a Schnauzer.


An Idaho republican candidate for congress, Vaughn Ward, plagiarized a Barack Obama campaign speech word for word. When asked if he was worried about the consequences, Ward said; “I have nothing to fear but fear itself.”


A 13-year-old California boy became the youngest person to scale Mt. Everest. Wow, Mt. Everest. When I was 13 the only thing I wanted to summit was Miss Golden the English teacher.


Venus Williams stunned the crowd at the French Open by wearing a tennis dress that appeared to be a see-through negligee. Venus’s clothing line, EleVen’s goal is to create tennis dresses that can also be used off the court. So, apparently, off the court Venus is a hooker.


A 72-year-old South Carolina woman was arrested for speeding over 100 mph because she was late for her beauty appointment. At 72 is it really still a beauty appointment? Isn’t it more of a restoration project?


Lindsay Lohan is wearing a court ordered alcohol monitoring ankle bracelet. At happy hour that thing is going to light up like a Christmas tree on crack.


Mothers are upset because a new Barbi doll has a low neckline dress and they say Barbi is too sexy. Barbi is too sexy? How about making Ken a little less gay?


Venus Williams stunned the crowd at the French Open by wearing a tennis dress that appeared to be a see-through negligee. It’s so revealing you can see all of Venus’s moons.

Mick yawning is the most accurate part in this picture

Let's get some air under this pig and make it fly, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


Lindsay Lohan and her attorney appeared in court after violating terms of her probation. Instead of hiring an attorney, Lohan was going to act on her own behalf, but then Lindsay remembered she can’t act on anything.


An Australian zoo staff has contributed part of their own salary to feed the lions. They decided this was preferable to working around really hungry lions.

In addition, they have named the lion food donation trust in memory of Carl, the recently departed lion trainer.


A Colorado home burglar was identified by his tattoos on his face. That’s when you know you’re an idiot, when you’re not smart enough to rob houses.

The tattoo said “How am I robbing?” followed by his phone number.

Now the Nebraska guy who robs 7-Elevens with toilet paper wrapped around his head doesn’t look so dumb after all.


Dem. Connecticut Senate candidate, Richard Blumenthal, lied about serving in Vietnam. He claims he meant to say he was in uniform during the Vietnam war instead of in the Vietnam war. That’s like Bill Clinton saying Monica Lewinski had sex during the Clinton White House, not in the Clinton White House.


An Australian zoo staff has contributed part of their own salary to feed the lions. This generous idea to feed the lions was proposed by Stew “Lefty” McDougal, the one-armed lion trainer.


Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan apparently is a huge New York Mets fan. Is it a good idea to nominate someone to be a judge on our highest court who is clearly such a poor judge of baseball teams?

It's a big day for Supreme Court nomine Elena Kagan, insiders say she will be voted in by congress and today she won the Kevin James “Paul Blart Mall Cop" lookalike contest.


Since you asked:
Tonight it is a hard work out and then grilling a Lex’s San Guido Escondido. A flatiron steak marinated in Chipotle and barbeque sauce, grilled medium rare, sliced thin and served on a French bread sandwich roll with mayo tomatoes and grilled onions.

And grilled corn on the cob with lime butter.

All while watching my beloved Cubblie bubblies pound the ever-loving living nose-batter out of the Los Angeles Doghairs.


More Stones drivel

Just watched most of the home movie film of the Rolling Stones 1972 US tour called “C***sucker Blues.” In the rock and roll pantheon, it simply doesn’t get bigger or better than the Stones during that 1972 tour. Cover of “Life” magazine, “The Dick Cavett Show” they had outraced even the Beatles by this point. Just mentioning you had a Stones album back then shot your coolness quotient way up, let along attending one of their concerts. If you knew somebody who went to a Stones concert, it made you cooler.

Besides the electric and amazing concert footage, my word was that world a sloppy, smoky, lazy, boozy, sleepy, sad, pathetic, sweaty, stinky, insanely schizophrenic and boring world of hangovers in hotel rooms and waiting, TV’s blaring and more waiting and dozing off on planes, limos, backstage and finally bustling about in cluttered and crowded dressing rooms before the show.

Drugs and groupies sound like they make up a glamorous world, but neither look at all appealing in this “CB” mess of a film. The drugs and groupies just look sleazy and skanky. How great does sex on the Stones private jet sound? In “CB” it was this unattractive fleshy wrestling match in front of a bunch of detached voyeurs, Mick and Keith, keeping time with hand held percussion instruments and then walking away nonplussed.

Picture a handsome, healthy, happy, fit and affectionate and loving family living and surfing in Hawaii or California as one way to live, being on tour with the Rolling Stones in 1972 is the exact opposite of that in every way. No exercise, no sun, crushing boredom, no morals, cigarettes dangling and smoking, needles pricking the skin, lousy greasy room service food, short, pale, skinny English dudes sprawled on beds in tightie-whitey underwear drinking watered down drinks in cheap glasses listening to Excedrin commercials blaring on the black and white TV.

Part of the problem was the time. 1972 was bad hair and polyester and there is plenty of both in this depiction. Believe me, I was there, it was a depressing time in America. At the time I thought the Stones’ excitement and exotic world would have been exempt from that stench of depression, but it wasn’t. Even their own recording of “Happy” on “Exile” skipped with a scratch, like mine did.

Again, apart from the wildly exciting concerts, there seems to be nearly zero joy in that world. Some giggling, lots yawning and scratching. Clearly the Rolling Stones are completely and totally different people off the stage as on it. Other than being able to play the songs and sing them and baring a strong resemblance, the two sets of people, the onstage Rolling Stones, have almost nothing in common with the offstage Stones; they don’t dress the same they don’t talk the same, they don’t move the same. Onstage, they are clearly playing a part in a play.

In the real world, Mick Jagger resembles far more of a mumbling, slouch-shouldered lazy and shy teenager than he does that preening, cocky and satanic master showman on center stage.

The Stones resurrect their roles once they’re being filmed or interviewed or besieged by adoring fans. But then, as soon as they turn the corner and are alone on a limo or bus or plane, they are just some skinny, short English blokes bumming a cigarette and trying to write a song about it.

The good news I’ve gleaned from all of this bored perpetual adolescence, unromantic and not-sexy lives of rock stars is that, not only am I glad I didn’t live that life, if a magical chance at going back in time and being a rock star were offered, I would turn it down flat. OK, sure, Eric and Keith and Don Felder can play a mean guitar, that would be cool. But I play a mean harmonica. And I didn’t have to go through all the endless boredom and mental and physical destruction to enjoy making my music.

This revelation that life of being a world famous rocker actually sucks is both disappointing and a relief.

Maybe I am an idiot, blame it on being brought up with “The Monkeys” and Beatles movies, but I guess a stupid part of my brain wanted to believe rock bands really do lead funny and exciting lives and drive around in convertible jalopies solving capers and having adventures. Nothing is further from the truth.

Unless bugging a backstage security guard for a Marlboro is your idea of an adventure.

Never kept a dollar past sunset, always burn a hole in my pants, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


Lindsay Lohan missed a court hearing and she could go to jail. But don’t worry, if Lindsay treats jail like she treats making movies, she’ll be fired from the jail in two days.

A New York vet has prescribed Viagra to a pit bull. The good news? The pit bull on Viagra won’t go for your throat.

There have been a rash of unruly sports fans misbehaving and being arrested. Who do these fans think they are, Ben Roethlisberger?

Remember that 87-year-old Florida woman who was arrested for selling crack? They still haven’t booked her yet, they can’t find a police officer who will strip search an 87-year-old woman.

“Better Homes and Gardens” has a recipe for pork chops wrapped in bacon. The bad news is pork chops wrapped in bacon is high in cholesterol. The good news? We’ve discovered the ultimate weapon in fighting Islamic terrorists.

Lindsay Lohan missed a court hearing and she could go to jail. I don’t want to say Lindsay Lohan is a train wreck, but even Andy Dick is worried about Lindsay.

Courtney Love claims in an interview that she had a lesbian affair with Kate Moss; supposedly it’s true, the hotel room was nearly destroyed by smeared eyeliner.

Yeah, and after sex they were so hungry they each gorged themselves on an entire grape each.


Lindsay Lohan missed a court hearing and she could go to jail. Lindsay said she missed her flight because someone stole her passport. But her acting was so unbelievably bad when she said it, the judge issued a warrant.


Since you asked, Stones tribute continued:

The more I read about the Rolling Stones and “Exile on Main Street” the more insane their world becomes. It is a medical miracle Keith Richards and Eric Clapton did not die from heroin use in the early Seventies. Nearly everyone of their crowd did die: Graham Parsons, Jimmy Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison. It is not myth but truth the same heroin dealer dealt the lethal doses to all of those people, including Getty heiress Talitha Getty. The heroin dealer was a pretty boy Frenchman named Count Jean de Bretuil, a straight male rock groupie who gave the Stones drugs for free so he could hang out with the rock stars and nail their hot women.

The useless Count Bretuil soon died of an overdose after they did. This is how much of a weasel this Bretuil was, it was well known he was having an affair with Jim Morrison’s wife, Pamela Morrison – a piece of work herself - and Bretuil assured the affair went on undetected by keeping the lizard King, Mr. Mojo Rison blasted on powerful heroin up until he killed him with it.

So enthralling is it to soar at the lofty heights of the Rolling Stones inner sanctum, those who inevitably do get excluded, from either boredom on Mick’s part or bad behavior, often become suicidal, ala Graham Parsons. Although many thought Parsons was trying to kill himself before.

Another fact that is becoming clear about rock stars is they are almost all horrible cheapskates. That is the case with many wealthy people, but in rock stars cases, like Glenn Frey, Don Henley and Keith Richards, its because they are given things for free so much, they expect not only stuff free, but that it also be of the highest quality, including great drugs. This Count Jean de Bretuil saw that cheapness flaw as an opening into the Stones and pursued it as his chance to get in their amazing inner circle until it killed him.

Another reason rock stars are such cheapskates is almost all of them were signed to horrible record and touring deals which cost them untold millions. The Stones almost went to prison for unpaid taxes in 1971. The Eagle who got kicked out before “Hotel California”, Bernie Leadon, had to keep working in the music industry for twenty years after to support himself. But Joe Walsh signed to a better deal right after Leadon and was an instant multi-millionaire thanks to the brilliant but truly evil midget Eagles manager Irving Azoff, a dwarf-like Hollywood a-hole of such epic legendary proportions he is mimicked in movies by Tom Cruise in “Tropic Thunder” as well as Jimmy Fallon in “Almost Famous.”

Until the era of Guns and Roses, rock bands were horribly ripped off by their record companies including Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Credence Clearwater Revival’s John Fogerty is furiously bitter to this day.

The record company figured out if you put a young starving musician in fancy clothes, a nice hotel and a private plane and they think they are rich and set for life and will sign any deal no matter how criminally negligent. Let’s face another fact, some of these guys, albeit musically talented, were never going to become rocket scientists. Well, besides the Doobie Brothers and Steely Dan master guitarist Jeff “Skunk” Baxter who happens to chair the Congressional Mission Defense Counsel.

The other glaring fact to come from my reading about the Stones is that Rolling Stone drummer, Charlie Watts, is not considered a very good drummer at all in rock circles. (The same thing has been said by former Eagle lead guitarist, Don Felder, about Don Henley’s back-beat-laden weak drumming skills. The drumming on the Eagles album is largely over-dubbed and computer generated) The epic and iconic drumming on “Honky Tonk Woman” including the opening cowbell and the drums on “All Down the Line” and “Tumbling Dice” were done by their producer, Jimmy Miller, himself a great rock drummer. Miller’s drumming ability is why Miller was considered such a genius of a rock producer. His sense of musical timing was amazing.

Personally, I have played in bands with horrible drummers – one guy just drummed the same exact thing on every song, like the world’s worst metronome – and with a couple of great drummers, and the difference is everything.

Jimmy Miller produced all the greatest albums of “The Spencer Davis Group” and “Traffic” and the “Rolling Stones” until the Stones fired him after “Exile on Main Street.” At that point Miller went downhill to be a wreck of a heroin addict and alcoholic dying of liver failure in 1994. The “Mister Jimmy” who looks pretty ill in “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” was Jimmy Miller, not Jimi Hendrix as most believe.

It turns out Miller did almost all the drums on “Exile on Main Street” “Let it Bleed” “Sticky Fingers” and “Beggars Banquet” four of the best Stones albums including the classic “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” One of the biggest reasons the Stones aren’t considered one of the musically technically greatest live bands ever is because of Watts’s jazzy, watered-down drum versions of the hit songs. Watts has always considered himself a jazz musician and he freely admits he hasn’t listened to a Stones song on his own for thirty years. Watts has never unwrapped the packaging on the CD of their last five or ten albums.

That’s right, folks. The drummer of the greatest rock and roll band of all time hates rock and roll music.

Of all the oddballs in the Rolling Stones, Charlie Watts is by far considered the weirdest. Watts apparently takes the word eccentric to new levels. He does not have a driver’s license, he never has, and he is a classy expensive clothes expert , horse-breeder, record producer, art and antique collector and Charlie has, he claims, stayed faithfully married to the love of his life, Sheryl Ann, never once cheating on her despite probably millions of chances. That fact alone makes him weird for the Rolling Stones. (Charlie was the lone dispute of “Gimme Shelter” background singer Mary Clayton’s “Playboy” claim she slept with all of the Stones)

My favorite Charlie Watts story is he was awakened on the road in the middle of the night in the mid-Eighties by a call by a drunk and coked-up Mick Jagger who was screaming; “Where’s my f*ckin’ drummer?” Watts calmly got up, dressed in his usual impeccable dark suit, shined shoes and tie, pocket scarf, went over to Mick’s hotel room and promptly punched Jaggar in the face, without so much as raising his voice, he said;

“Don’t you ever call me your drummer again. You’re my singer.”

Jagger and Richards have horrible reputations for using and then dumping people, including their legends, Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry, their producers and managers, Jimmy Miller and then Marshall Chess and troubled singer, Graham Parsons. And yet their unwavering loyalty to Charlie Watts is amazing, almost at their own musical expense. Insiders say both Jaggar and Richards considered Watts a big brother figure and are intimidated by him.

Jagger and Richards had no trouble dumping Mick Taylor who everyone says was a gifted guitarist along the lines of an Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck. Keith Richards is a great guitarist, but his style is considered by experts to be rough, raw, scratchy and possibly a little sloppy. The Stones even dumped their bassist of thirty years, Bill Wyman. Wyman says, despite all they went through together, albeit always polite English gentlemen, Richards and Jaggar never considered or treated any of the other Stones as anything more than sidemen. And that goes double for producers and managers. Triple for wives, groupies and hangers-on.

Some of the incredible selfishness in Richards's case can be attributed to heroin addiction, but that doesn’t excuse Jagger. Like with his phony bisexuality, Jagger pushes a public image of hard partying rock star far beyond the actual truth. Besides a fair amount of cocaine in the Seventies and Eighties, and wine now, Jagger is nearly a health nut compared to everyone around him, especially Richards. Keith Richards once said of Mick Jagger: “He’s a lovely bunch of guys.”

That's a theme you hear again and again. Mick is polite, but complicated. Keith simply cannot stand, nor will he tolerate B.S. in any way or shape.

In “Monkey Man” Jagger sings “All my friends are junkies” and then he throws in “that’s not really true” but it almost was really true. The hangers-on who get a rush hanging with the Stones are always summarily dumped, including the Stones own wives. Some say Richards and Jaggar get bored of people quickly. That may be true, but many have said in Jagger’s case it’s because he doesn’t want people to see that he isn’t at all godlike in real life as he would like his fans to believe. The term “surprisingly normal” is often used to describe Mick Jagger, but I think it is cloaking a more insulting meaning deep down as plain and boring.

The often unsubtle hint that, although unfailingly polite, Mick Jagger is a bit of a dull fish, doesn’t change my opinion of the Stones at all. Jagger is an amazingly talented performer. Is he a great singer? No. A great harmonica player? Not really. Is he a gifted dancer? We all know the answer to that one. But Mick manages to bundle what he has into an unbelievably great show. The two Rolling Stones concerts I’ve seen are by far the greatest shows I have ever seen, and I have seen the Who, Jimmy Buffet, James Taylor, Jackson Browne Led Zeppelin, Eric Clapton and the Eagles. (The Eagles and Clapton I’ve seen ten times each)

The nearly countless women who have had sex with Jagger don’t exactly go running for a dictionary to find apt words to describe the experience. While many women Keith Richards has bedded do gush at the memory, including Marianne Faithful. Except when Keith is too high, stoned and drunk to have sex, which was a lot. But the most praised sexually of the Stones by far was the quietest one, Bill Wyman. It was claimed by Wyman, at his sexual peak in the Seventies, - get ready to read something you’re not going to believe - Wyman had sex with one thousand women in one year. Wyman said he set the goal and reached it earlier than one year. Even going to the trouble of keeping a list of the women’s names. How that is even possible mathematically, let alone physically, is beyond my comprehension.

Mary Clayton, the talented African American singer who contributed the spine tingling singing solo on “Gimme Shelter” told “Playboy” she slept with all of the Stones and the only one she says was worth mentioning was Bill Wyman. Clayton was profuse in her admiration for Wyman’s talents in the sack. All the other Stones are damned by absolutely no praise at all let alone feint praise. (Again, Watts denies this story vehemently)

However given how sexy his songs and stage performances are, it is generally acknowledged by thousands of women the Sir Mick is a, um, shall we ironically say a rather large disappointment in the sex department.