Led Zeppelin-What Is & What Should Never Be

My boys could flat out, dead-solid bring it. Great pre-BBQ song

He'll get another medal if he lives through the Honeymoon

Let’s all wish William the good luck he will need tonight, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

President Barack Obama was photographed using an iPad; yeah, and Arizona Senator John McCain was photographed using a rock and chisel.

I am so excited about my Royal Wedding Party. The hardest part about throwing a really ripping Royal Wedding Party? Admitting to your wife that you’re gay.

With the Royal Wedding coming up, it looks like someone is getting cold feet; today Kate Middleton demanded to see Prince William’s birth certificate.

With graduation around the corner, “The Daily Beast” listed the most useless college degrees. First was Journalism, then music, then advertising and finally, the most useless degree is in Rooftop Sex Education from USC.

Soon they’ll graduate and they will have sex in the unemployment line.

Even Las Vegas is getting into Royal Wedding fever. Did you know you can get 20-1 odds that Kate Middleton, in her first year of marriage to William, will nail a Polo instructor?

It’s springtime with love in the air, so let me give the women some dating advice. Girls, if you’re out to dinner with your new date and he says; “I just can’t wait until my limited edition Royal Wedding Kate Middleton doll arrives,” you might want to reconsider.

President Obama revealed his birth certificate on TV. There was an awkward moment when Donald Trump shouted; “Hey, that isn’t real, I stole his real birth certificate. Oops.”

Had a rough night last night. Here is a little free marital advice guys, when you’re having a fight with your spouse, don’t get mad and demand to see her birth certificate.

Man, did I have a weird dream last night. I dreamed a bunch of psychos demanded our President show his birth certificate and, here’s the weird part, he did.

Barry Bonds will probably be sentenced to community service for lying about steroids. He will go to the community park at night where they will project a movie on his forehead.

The Royal Wedding is coming up. Prince William wishes for a son who could be an heir. Just like his Dad, Prince Charles, wishes Prince Harry was his son.

With all of the legal actions, there is a good chance we won’t have an NFL season next year. Can you imagine? No NFL team at all in your city. It’s like being an Oakland Raiders fan.

The Royal Wedding has launched a fun game where you create your own Royal name. How it works is you take Lord or Lady, a first name of your grandparents, your childhood pet and then OF and your childhood street name. One writer is Lord Thaddeus Charles of Elm. Sadly, another is Lord Whacker Dickie of Morningwood.


Since you asked:
We at a.L.B.b. productions would like to introduce a new skit we proudly call:

The Four Heterophobic Guys

Picture, if you will, four nattily attired - replete with snazzy pork pie hats - fit and witty gay men enjoying smart cocktails on a New York sidewalk cafe on a lovely spring afternoon.

“Oh, dear lord. Look at this guy.”

“Ugh. Total straight-y.”

“What a heteroooooooooooooooooo.”

“Hello. Doesn’t he have a NASCAR race to watch?”

"Bless my Cher doll collection, Arnold Schwarzenegger-cliche much?"

"Bet you he recorded over the Royal Wedding with an NBA game."

"No kidding. This boob-licker wouldn't know a Kate Middleton from a window treatment."

“Seriously, hey Who-Hah-slammer, the eighties called and said you can keep your "Magnum P.I." look.”

"Ahem, Stefan, I actually like that look."

"Me too."

"Ditto."

"OK, sorry. Carried away. Where were we? Hey, heavy-in-his-Oxfords, your dance moves just made Bob Fossi throw up in his mouth. And he's dead."

"Yes, Hootie and the Not-Blowfish, let's see you do the off-beat overbite to Bachman Turner's "Taking Care of Business."

"That 'Gina-rider couldn't get lucky in a men's prison with a Louis Vuitton case full of pardons."

"Bet the slob only seasons his sauce pans once a year."

"That macho-crotcho couldn't suck an Appletini if he had a straw."

"Bet you anything that scorching woman-humper reeks of Axe body spray and grilled hamburger meat."

"Last night, after too many frigid beers, his right hand told him; "No thanks, I'm waiting for someone good-looking. You know, gay."

"That flaming babe-bouncer's idea of jazz hands is a fist pump."

"Hey, Tom Brady-looking mother-effer. Don't you have a super model to knock up?"

"Playboy-Pounder."

"Chick- liker."

"Bathroom-caulker."

"Car-fixer."

"No-directions asker."


And scene. (Bowing)

Half of the time we’re gone, and we don’t know where, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

A London toy shop has launched a limited edition Kate Middleton Engagement doll; “Wow, I cannot wait to get that.” said no straight male on the planet.

This Kate Middleton girl, although very pretty, strikes me as possible trouble. Let’s just say she looks like she knows what to do with a shot glass, a Marlboro and a bottle of Wesson Oil.

My word, I am so excited about the Royal Wedding, I could just scream, (cough) err, uh, I mean, man I hope those Lakers crush the Pacers.

The good news is I have been invited to go the Royal Wedding. The bad news? At the reception they have me sitting between Carrot Top and Snooki.

Police in Lodi, CA, arrested a man, 42-year-old Shawn Batie, for disturbing the peace while dressed only in a Raider’s jacket, a G-string and socks with a hair-scrunchie around his genitals. Or as Raider fans call that: well dressed. 


Wooden-award winning senior, Jimmer Fredette, has been asked by BYU officials to finish his degree online because he is too much of a distraction in class. Apparently BYU stands for: Belittling Your Undergraduates.

Wooden-award winning senior, Jimmer Fredette, has been asked by BYU officials to finish his degree online because he is too much of a distraction in class. In the Department of Ingratitude, file this one under: “What have you done for me really lately, like as of today?”


Let’s call the time of death on a war that started in 1976 between rock and punk rock.

Rock won.

Recent documentaries on the top punk bands, The Dead Kennedys, Rancid, The New York Dolls and the Sex Pistols, reveal many members of those bands didn’t know how to play their instruments. Including “lead” guitarists. I’m not talking about not being able to read music, Keith Richards can’t read music, these guys could not play a single, solitary song on their instruments.

Punk rocks proves that critics are wrong, wrong, wrong.

The top rock critics in the Seventies who wrote for “Rolling Stone” or “The Village Voice”, who slaughtered the Eagles, James Taylor, Jackson Browne, Eric Clapton and even Led Zeppelin in their reviews, were all die-hard punk fans. And like all die hard punk fans, they were merely the serious losers of high school desperately searching for a niche to fill the giant hole in their sad and pathetic empty lives.

Losers desperately use the rebel image to hide the fact that they are losers.

Yes, there are some good rock critics, L.A. Times Robert Hilburn and Cameron Crowe, but they were just plain good writers. Most rock critics, including Lester Bangs, couldn’t even write well.

Punk rock’s one trick pony has been exposed as a fraud over time. It not only does not stand up to the test of time, it is nonexistent in the test of time.

Fans of the Stones, Led Zeppelin and Eagles were looking for music to enrich and enhance their already good lives. Fans of punk rock were mostly desperately lost misfits looking for so much guidance, they actually believed dressing like a murderous addict clown and thrashing about to mindlessly loud untalented and violent bands was their answer to get a life.

And, sadly, it was their answer.

That’s why Bruce Springsteen was so confusing to rock critics. He was from the New York area - more importantly to the critics, he wasn’t from California - and he looked the street punk part to a degree with a torn white t-shirt, converse sneakers, beard, unvarnished wood grain Stratocaster guitar and leather jacket.

But yet Springsteen wrote and played great, great songs that were wildly popular with mainstream fans outside of New York. New York and San Francisco critics absolutely hated that.

Don’t get me wrong, unlike the Stones, Bruce, Eric and Led Z, not all Seventies rock bands stand up to the test of time. Take Boston. No, really, please, take Boston. And somebody tell San Diego’s classic rock station, KGB, that we now hate Boston so stop playing them.

Boston proved my theory that there is no such thing as pseudo intellectual rock. Sorry, but if you were/are a huge fan of Rush, Depeche Mode or Husker Du, there is almost a 100% chance you were then, or are now, a flaming douche bag. Maybe I give Rush a pass. (In a “Funny or Die” video with Paul Rudd and Jason Segel, even the guys in Rush make fun of the fact they don’t have any women fans)

Although their egos are out of check, and always have been, and their people skills are bad, you do have to give Don Henley and Glenn Frey an amazing amount of credit for their body of work. Forget about all the one hit bands like the Archies “Sugar Sugar” The Knack and Divo, Boston was way better than a one hit band, they had several hits, and they were only a one album band.

Boston was made up of smart guys from M.I.T. and Harvard and they couldn’t last. It’s is tough to be a long time winner in the world of rock and roll.

The Eagles had nine huge selling albums, not including solo careers, and the highest selling album of all time worldwide in “Eagles Greatest Hits.” Sales are just one factor in judging a musical artist. (See: Madonna, Miley Cyrus and Menudo)

You can have the greatest musicians on the planet and not have a great legacy in album sales, ala Cream (Cream sold a lot of one album, but it was only one album) and the Flying Burrito Brothers. You can have absolutely lousy musicians, or in many of the punk rockers case, not even musicians at all, and have huge sales through slick marketing, like the Monkeys. (Peter Tork and Mike Neismith not included. They were talented)

It is time to put punk in the same musical grave as disco, Reggae, Rockabilly and techno. Let’s save room in that grave for one more, and you know what I mean.

As wise person said: the only interesting thing about Rap is that its first letter is a silent C.

Kate Middleton. Ohhhhhhhhhh Kayyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Any questions?

Yes, I am aware she is stylish, and I know she is classy. But, trust me, this is a girl who wants to be ridden harder than Secretariat.

"OK, dig, I'm going out for a drink and a smoke, you crazy cats get this horn section figured out, 'cause I can't work like this."


That’s why that nutty broad, that’s why that kooky, kooky chick, that’s why the Lady is a Tramp, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


Now I know the English tabloids are rough, but I thought this headline before the Royal Wedding was a little mean:

“Camilla Parker Bowles to Throw Kate Middleton a Bridle Shower.”

The 16-year-old prostitute who had sex with Hall of Fame football player, Lawrence Taylor, has just hired feminist attorney Gloria Allred. Allred is going to turn L.T. into a B.L.T.

A “Sixty Minutes” segment claims Greg Mortenson’s book “Two Cups of Tea” is fake. Turns out it was one cup of tea and a can of Red Bull.

Another riot broke out at a protest in Syria. That’s strange, it’s not like the middle east to have angry violence erupt except for, oh, yeah, every single day of my entire life.

Elliot Spitzer claims Donald Trump has greatly exaggerated the value of his wealth. Oh, come on, I can’t imagine Donald Trump to be the kind of guy who would lie about something being bigger than it is.

According to pictures on Twitter, Snooki is getting ready for bikini season. So if you’re heading to a New Jersey beach, sharks are now your second concern.

The Royal Wedding is only four days away. They want to have the wedding before Prince William goes completely bald. But don’t worry, if William does go bald, Elton John has offered him the use of one of his toupees.

According to Twitter, Snooki is getting ready for bikini season. Let’s hope Snooki avoids that terrible accident that happened to her at the beach last year when the lifeguard grabbed Snooki and threw her in the ocean mistaking her for his orange life preserver.

Since you asked:

Lord knows I like that hot Kate Middleton, but that gal is T-R-O-U-B-L-E. She looks like she can down three shots and then juggle the shot glasses while yelling; “Wooo hoooo!” with a lit Marlboro dangling from her lips.

Can see Kate half-lit in a pub leaning over to the burly star rugby player - played by me in my twenties - and, with her feint cigarette-and-whiskey-scented-breath, in her proper Notting Hill accent, whispers in his ear;

"I say, old chap, what barks and needs a proper spanking? Woof, woof, woof."

Seriously, I am a big fan of the Kate Middleton, but that little ring-caused scar under her left eyebrow quietly proclaims; "I have been in a bar fight."

This is a woman whom, on many occasions, has uttered the phrase:

"It's drop-knickers time for Katie-bearsies."

Buffalo Bills- The Music Man "Lida Rose"

Somewhere my Dad is smiling

"Seven Bridges Road"...By The Eagles

I've told this story before.

My Dad and I shared a deep love of music. We also agreed to disagree on what kind of music we liked. He leaned towards Sinatra and I was big on the Eagles and Stones and Led Zeppelin. Thus we started a friendly game of "Your music sucks." "No, your music sucks." Even though we actually shared a love of many songs, ala Simon and Garfunkle, Judy Collins, Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass, etc.

One summer afternoon when I was home in Winnetka, Illinois from Santa Barbara, I played the Eagles "Seven Bridges Road" on our stereo.

Now, as a backdrop, my dad was an absolute great harmony singer. He had an amazing tenor voice and sang in the church choir and was demanded to sing at all cocktail parties. So he loved barbershop quartets. ("Lida Rose" on "The Music Man" was one of his favorites and he could sing along with it flawlessly)

My Dad was walking past the living room when the harmonies hit on "Seven Bridges Road" and he stopped dead in his tracks;

"Who is this?"

Like a pitcher who knew a batter had no chance to catch up to his fastball, I casually wound up and delivered;

"It's the Eagles."

My Dad was a guy whom was not easily impressed, but as he stood there listening, he was stunned.

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

Without saying another word, we just listened to the song and then, when it was over, he just walked away.

A few years later, my Dad passed away. When they came to pick up his company car, I went to clean it out. In the glove compartment were music tape cassettes. Among them, besides Frank Sinatra? "Eagles Live" - with "Seven Bridges Road" - and "Eagles Greatest Hits" and "Hotel California."

Now I live a few miles from the actual Seven Bridges Road in San Diego. My Dad would have liked to know that.

Have a great Easter. And give your parents a smooch if you can.