Is it just me, or does Rick Santorum look like a guy who would wear a train engineer hat while playing with his model trains in his basement?

Honey Badger just flat out don't give a good G-damn no-never-mind, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers




This just in: Latest celebrity baby-naming craze is to name child after where it was conceived like Malibu, Ojai, Brooklyn. So Snooki's baby will be named: Olive Garden Bathroom.

Since you asked:

Got to admit, as a bonafide Late 60’s/early 70’s LA music scene nut-job, very bummed by the passing of Davy Jones.

It has become fashionable to write-off the Monkees as a musical joke. But they were huge at one point, out-selling the Beatles and the Stones.

Big fan as a kid, have since delved in to that history and you will not find someone who has a bad word about Davy. Opposite, in fact. Everyone loved him. And he got as royally screwed by their producers as everyone in the Monkees and had a right to become as bitter as did Michael Nesmith, but he did not.

Two a-hole egomaniac, cigar-chomping studio execs decided they could make an American version of the Beatles and keep all the touring and record profits in a deal that tied them all to the TV show.

One of the worst rumors is that Stephen Stills tried out and was turned down. A lie. They wanted Stills bad and pursued him as he had a great reputation as a good-looking great singer/songwriter/guitarist.

When Stills, who was making some good cash selling his songs, discovered they would take away his music ownership rights, he passed and told all the most talented musicians in the area not to swallow the Monkees producer’s BS golden handcuffs. So James Taylor, The Dave Clark Five, Loving' Spoonful, David Crosby, Jackson Browne et al passed. (Charlie Manson - who is nuts, but not a liar - said he tried out)

So they decided to go with unknowns who were a lot cheaper. $450 an episode cheaper.

The two most talented Monkees from a musician and songwriting stand point were Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork. Jones and Mickey Dolenz were very talented as well but as actors and singers.

When the Monkees finally realized what a bad deal they had signed, they finally bolted. Naturally the greedy, a-hole producers were as litigious and nasty as they could be making it nearly impossible for all of them, even great songwriters like Tork and Nesmith, to make it on their own.

And then bitterness entered their lives.

Luckily for Nesmith, his divorced Mom/secretary invented and patented “WiteOut”/ Liquid Paper and he got rich on a trust fund. He could afford to walk around bitter and not rejoin.

As a result of the hosing of the musicians, the hip Laurel Canyon music crowd hated what the Monkees stood for and railed against any kind of slick studio marketing, handling and promotions. (Hence the stark production quality of Neil Young’s “Harvest.” But, if you’re not Neil Young, that stark bare-bones artist approach to marketing doesn’t really work)

My Facebook friend and comedy legend, Wendy Liebman’s husband wrote/produced “Boy Meets World” and I saw the story of how he created the Monkees almost reunion. Nesmith came to the studio, but dug his heels in and refused to do the show; all the Monkees really did all get together on stage a few times in LA for close friends, including Wendy and her husband. They both said the Monkees were awesome.

It wasn't the Monkees fault that some d-bag producers made them read scripts that had utter crap like:

"Hey, guys, look, some crazy old Uncle of mine died and left me a haunted mansion in Malibu. Let's go check it out."

Here is an interesting fact: the "Monkees" pilot bombed in testing with focus groups because they gave the Monkees characters to play that were way different than their personalities. And those characters were designed to mimic the Beatles: Davy was the dreamy Paul. Nesmith the brainy stoic John, Tork the whacky Ringo, and Mickey the quiet George. When they finally reshot and let them be themselves, the ratings went out of the roof.

Happy 18th to Justin Bieber. His mother, Rachel Maddow, must be so proud.

Dire Straits - Wild West End + lyrics

Downtown Santa Banana

Sunset over the Santa Banana Harbor

Stepping out to Angelluci’s for my coffee beans, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

After the Oscars, Hollywood restaurants are offering the Angelina Jolie Special: it is a hot, saucy and nutty dish with a side of chicken leg.

It has been confirmed one day after the Oscars; Angelina Jolie has been diagnosed with WLS: Wandering Leg Syndrome.

I don’t want to say Rick Santorum is conservative and boring, but his Secret Service codename is “Applebees.”

It rained in Southern California. In fact, it rained so hard in Santa Monica, it actually washed a straight guy into a movie theater showing “The Artist.”

I don’t want to say Rick Santorum is boring, but his Secret Service codename is: Rick Santorum.

At the Oscars, Angelina Jolie kept posing with her right leg sticking out of her dress. It caused the most stir at the Oscars of any of Angelina’s appendages since her tongue she shoved down her brother’s throat.

A female student at Western Nevada State is suing her male human sexuality professor for sexual harassment for assigning a masturbation assignment. Whereas a male student is suing for getting assigned the one thing about human sexuality he already understands.

In Michigan, Kid Rock performed for and endorsed Mitt Romney; that’s just fine, but I am waiting to see who Lance Bass and Joey Fatone like.

One of the strangest moments during the Oscars for me was when Adele flipped-off Billy Chrystal.

Did you see Angelina Jolie sticking out her leg at the Oscars? Not to be critical, but I have seen more meat on a Buffalo chicken wing after Kirsty Alley got done with it.

Hey, Rick Santorum, you can either hate gay guys or wear a sweater vest, you can’t do both.

The sister ship of the capsized Costa Concordia, the Costa Allegra, had to be towed back to Italy. Now there is much concern over their third sister ship: the Costa Paris Hilton. That thing can go down in no time.

Since you asked:

Lex’s dream solo work-project getaway.

Take an early Friday afternoon train from San Diego to Santa Barbara with my board, paddle and laptop. Write on train. Check into a hotel on or near State Street. Rent a car. Write in the hotel room. Saunter down State street listening to Dire Straits “Wild West End” on iPod. Window shop. Check out boutique shoppe for a vintage harmonica.

Have a cocktail at Joe’s. Have dinner at the Fish Enterprise Co. Saunter State Street and people watch. Have a night cap at a quiet bar. Bed.

Get up early and Stand Up Paddle Surf. Shower, breakfast at Esau’s. Have a ball and a biscuit. And a Bloody. Write in room. Write at a coffee shop. Go back to room and write. Go surfing again. Shower. Burger and beer at Durf’s. Back to room for nap. (After surfing twice, beer and burger, no choice here) Wake up and write in room until happy hour.

Saunter State Street listening to Jack Johnson, John Hiatt or Jimmy Buffett on iPod. Drive up to Cold Springs Tavern and have dinner.

Drive back to town. Drinks at a club with a band. Play harmonica with the band. Bed.

Get up and SUP surf. Smoothie. Shower, turn in car, check out and catch train back to San Diego. Write on train. Home in time to catch up with DVR games and grill some Sunday night dinner wif’ fambly.

That, my beloved Slats and Nuggies, in the words of the great Max Von Stock, would not suck.

(Included in additional trips, tour of wineries, golf at Sand Piper with the Snakes, Mark, Billy and John and Mr. Wopat and other assorted Decath and Pentath alum. Dinner at the Hitching Post, ala “Sideways”, invite myself for Tri tip at the Wopats. Beach mussel bake.)

This just in: Kourtney Kardashian is pregnant. Man, that Jeremy Lin is on FIRE!

Citizen Cope - Sideways Music Video

This kinds of sums it up right now

Last picture of Kasey and Wrigley together. Should have seen how crushed Wrigley would be. Should have seen it.

This vacay gonna up and go cray-cray, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Rick Santorum is so conservative his Indian name is; “Wears Socks When He Has Sex."

With all the Oscar buzz around the, “The Artist” even straight males will want to see a French song and dance silent movie filmed in black and white. Naaaah.

The campaign has come down to Mitt Romney, Rick Santorum, Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul. You know you’re stuck with a sad group when Newt Gingrich is the one who has scored the most tail.

An Indiana lawmaker, Bob Morris, derided the Girl Scouts as a radical organization; when informed this statement would jeopardize his Thin Mints order, Morris said; “Let me finish, I meant radically great.”

A 19-year-old, Yazeed Mohammad A. Abunayyan, was arrested on a flight from Portland to Houston, for punching passengers while screaming praises of Osama bin Laden. And my Aunt Gertie couldn’t fly for sneaking ten ounces of Sexy Lube in her purse.

I’m sorta bummed. I wanted to go see the movie “War Horse,” but I went to the adult movie “Worn Whores” by mistake.

The hookers on Santa Monica Blvd. are offering a post-Oscar special. For a “Moneyball” of $500, you can get “Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close” when “Hugo” and put "The Tree of Life" up their “War Horse.”

“The Artist” won Best Picture. A French silent movie in black and white with lots of dance numbers. The only way that movie could be any worse for me is if the cute little dog died.

Just saw that a Jeremy Lin jersey sold for $500. I tell you, that price is Jeremaniac-y. What? It could catch on.

Since you asked:

Now that I have a MacBook Pro laptop and an asthma inhaler, I am going to tote the rock and run to daylight.

Gonna set up at an outdoor table at a coffee shop. Order a non-fat, two brown sugar, extra foam, three-shot latte, and sit there, with my cell phone plastered to me ear, wearing from bottom to top: Ugg boots, cargo shorts, an ironic t-shirt that attributes the quote; “That’s what she said” to Mark Twain, a black leather jacket, my Ray Bans and a red wool hat perched way back on my head.

Might even fashion one of my daughter's hair bands into a faux thumb ring. That’s right, I am gonna be THAT GUY.

(Of course I’m not, but there is power in knowing I could douche it up that much if I wanted to)

P.S. Go Eff yourself, Bob Felderman, wherever you fat, bald, ugly old ass be.

Beagle Freedom Project - Second Rescue - June 8, 2011

Poor guy doesn't like the Vet. See how he is clutching dad?

Not saying it is, but it looks like Kristen Stewart. If it is, I may have to kill myself.

So awesome, had to bring it back. When they open the crate for first dog, Roger, his scared eyes busted up my heart, is what they did.

When did Nick Nolte turn into Dog the Bounty Hunter dressed up as Santa Claus?

We got to get tight for the right to fight, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

This Just In: Angelina Jolie's black dress has filed a Missing Leg report.

To those of you who played that exciting new Oscar drinking game, "Hugo" and Scorsese, good luck with your upcoming stint in rehab.

Did you see how surprised Meryl Streep was by her Best Actress win? Come on, Meryl. You've been nominated 17 times, won three. Don't go getting all Taylor Swift on our ass.

Since you asked:

It is my contention that two things are the most under-appreciated things we do:

Breathing and sleeping.

This observation was hit home to me on Saturday night, I could not do the latter because of extreme difficulty with the prior.

At about 10:00 pm on Saturday night, my breathing discomfort due to – what I thought was bronchitis - moved from a three to a four on the one-to-ten scale of difficulty breathing. One being clear breathing, ten being somebody stepping on your throat to strangle you.

The problem with moving from three to four is that it goes from uncomfortable to labored. Once you are laboring to breath, it tends to get worse. By two in the morning, it was clear I could not lay down to sleep for the wheezing and the constriction in my chest.

By five in the AM I was at a 5 on the scale - which rendered even watching TV or using the computer difficult. This stage makes you unable to catch your breath after any kind of exertion, like climbing the stairs.

The mental transition from worrying to panic sets in at stage 6 which occurred at 7 am and it was time for your buddy Lex to drive himself to urgent care.

After five hours, which included chest X-rays, blood work, an ECG, blood pressure tests and one fairly good sweaty panic attack, the doctor informed me that, after a 40 year absence, my childhood asthma had come back home.

Oh goody.

Got to give this one back to medical science. They got me from a 6.5 discomfort zone to a conservative 2. The difference of how I felt 12 hours later was amazing. Thanks to cortisone for the inflammation, antibiotics for the infection and an inhaler to stop the wheezing.

Yes, just two weeks after buying an Apple laptop MacBook Pro, I have turned into a full-blown nerd with an asthma inhaler.

In a shamelessly self-absorbed search of my material on blogs . . .

I discovered one of my jokes was translated over to a Chinese blog and then translated back to English. Only very badly.

The joke:

Rumor has it Khloe Kardashian's father is OJ Simpson; "If the condom does not fit, you could produce a twit."

This was turned into:

"The quiet talking utterances proclaim Khloe Kardashian male sibling occurs of the OJ Simpson. "If the rubber shoe is not forthcoming in comfort the result could be children of utter non-conformity."