Thursday, June 27, 2013

Is it just me, or does Paula Deen look like:

The waitress at the roadside diner who has reading glasses hanging from her neck who calls everyone sweety?

The woman at the grocery store who balances her checkbook to pay for the cat food with coupons?

The woman in the car who fixes her hair and applies more makeup while you're waiting for her to pull out of the parking lot space? 

The woman smoking outside of the hair salon holding her cigarette straight up in the air in her pistol fingers with her elbow in the palm of her other hand?

The woman at the dry cleaner angry about a stain on her house coat?

The woman who fills out the dog racing form in her house coat with a lit Marlboro dangling in her lips? 

Hard to believe this was puppy Wally. He almost all growds up now...

We on a bro-pocalypse to stup-pocalypse, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Hostess Ho Ho’s are back. What do you call Paris Hilton with a box of those round Hostess cake treats? A Hosed ‘Ho Who Has Ho Hos.

ESPN announcer Chris Berman gave a commencement speech at a Connecticut high school and it was not well received; some posted on twitter they thought he was drunk; the speech was so bad at one point the students started chanting for Joe Biden.

Congratulations to the Chicago Blackhawks for winning the Stanley Cup; they would take the Cup to a Chicago Cubs game, but then they would have to explain what a championship is.

The CEO of Delta Airlines, Richard Anderson, gave up his seat so a woman struggling to get to her child’s diabetes camp, could make it on time. At Spirit Airlines they would have kicked her off the flight and charged her an early exit fee of $200.

Kim Kardashian and Kanye West named their baby North West so she will always find her direction in life. Just kidding, those shameless publicity whores used a jacked-up name for their poor kid to get them even more free attention.

Today, New England tight end, Aaron Hernandez, was arrested in connection to a murder investigation and Cleveland Brown linebacker Ausar Walcott was arrested for attempted murder. That is amazing, not one Cincinnati Bengal was arrested.

A farm in Washington is raising marijuana-fed pigs; their slogan is “Our Ham Is Snoop Doggone Good.”

A South Carolina man was lured from jumping off a bridge with a pizza; sadly, later that day, a man on the bridge, who wasn’t going to jump, was offered Hot Pockets. So he jumped.

Paula Deen went on the “Today” show. There was an awkward moment when she asked Al Roker to park her car.

Today, New England tight end, Aaron Hernandez, was arrested in connection with a murder investigation and Cleveland Brown linebacker Ausar Walcott was arrested for attempted murder. In the off-season, NFL stands for Notorious Felons Loose.

A Florida woman was kicked off a US Airways flight to Charlotte for refusing to stop talking on her cell phone; the FCC is considering punishing her further by booking her on Spirit Airlines.

Since you asked:

So my normal “Playing the harmonica with a wedding band” dream is a bad anxiety dream with me not having the right key harmonicas, or my mic not working or I can’t find the stage. Something.

This time it goes great. The wedding reception is at a Santa  Barbara concert/ bar venue and the band is all full time musicians. My songs, “Roadhouse Blues”, “Pride and Joy” “Honky Tonk Woman” “Brown Sugar” “Long Train Running” “Bring it On Home” and “Unchain My Heart” and “Love is Strong” all go great.

All of a sudden the lead singer announces Jackson Browne will sit in for “Doctor My Eyes.” Suddenly, Jackson, sits down at the piano plays most of the song and then throws it to me for a solo.

And I nail it.

Afterwards we’re all back at the Hotel and I run into Jackson in the lobby in front of the elevators. In this dream, Jackson and I have been friends since I – which really happened in real life – was a security guard at the Santa Barbara County Bowl during his concert. (got to talk to Jackson briefly. He was very nice as was Joe Walsh, although Walsh was really gacked-up) 

Suddenly, in the dream, Jackson says;

“Hey, why not come to our concert at the Wilshire Theater?”

It’s as if I’d won the lottery. I give him a huge hug. I tell him how this is a dream come true. Playing a real concert with Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt and John Hiatt. Jackson gives me a “What the hell is wrong with this guy?” look and walks away.

In the elevator on the way to my room, it hits me like a ton of bricks: Jackson was just politely inviting me to attend his concert, not play in it. How could I have been such an idiot?

When I open the door to my hotel room, there is a big pile of stuff on my bed. A huge neck-hanging laminated All Access Pass for the Wilshire Theater; A stage access shiny thigh-sticker rock stars put on their blue jeans to get past security on to the stage. There is a contract to sign with those red-sticker things showing where to sign and my name all over it to agree to performing on a live album. There is a red leather letterman-type jacket with “Jackson Brown All Stars Live at The Wilshire” embroidered on the back above a flying V guitar.

On the table there are a punch of framed pictures. Me and Jackson at the County Bowl. Jackson and me at his Hollister Ranch house. Jackson and me in front of the Santa Barbara Court House, in the Bar at Joe’s and Cold Springs Tavern, Enterprise Fish Co.

In some other life, I had become great friends with Jackson Browne.

Then I woke up.

Much, much better than the dream where I had to try on 50 ties. 

Random thinklies:

"Hey, Aaron, good job on the $40 million contract extension. Hey, were gonna hop in our ride and go and shoot a couple dudes. You wanna come?" 

And the guy said yes.

A friend of a friend posted on Facebook a video clip of a band at an outdoor party in a park.  The comment he added was something like "Hey, check out this awesome band I heard."

The bass and drummer start out with, what is clear to me, an OK rendition of "Roadhouse Blues." The singer mistakes it and starts singing the lyrics to Led Zep's version of "Bring it on Home." My band did both with me playing harp on both, and they are nothing alike at the beginning.

The singer is pretty bad, but at least now he has the lyrics right. The guitarist pulls out a harmonica. There is a very specific riff in the harmonica on "Roadhouse Blues" (It was played in studio by Lovin' Spoonfulls" and "Welcome Back Kotter" singer, John Sebastian, and it is very cool) 

This guy not only does not play it like that, it is clear to me in one second he has the wrong key harmonica. And he keeps on playing. And then the guitarist goes off on a solo that is nothing close to the solo on "Roadhouse Blues" Basically, except for the drummer and bass player, they are playing a different song. 

And this guy on Facebook thought they were awesome. 

We had a great bass player in one band I played in and his name was Murray. If I was going to make a bass player in a lab, it would be Murray. Tall, cool guy, surfer, laid back. And an awesome bass player and singer. 

He once told me he used to like listening to my solos so much he would forget to play the bass. That wasn't true, he was awesome, but what a nice thing to say. 

Then a while later he told me that he played with a band and, before he played, he thought; "Oh, cool, they have a harmonica player." Then he played with the guy and said the guy sucked. 

It was a nice way to say he used to think all harmonicas sounded the same, but they don't. And he appreciated it. 

Miss that band. Murray is a great guy. They all were/are. 

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Look out, everybody, it's an awesome surfin' dawwwwwwg

There I was, just mindin’ my own bidness and beeswax, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

This NSA snitch, Edward Snowden, is seeking asylum; if he really wants to go where nobody will see him he should race in the Tour De France.

Twinkies are going back on the shelf on July 15th; Twinkies are the only food that have a longer shelf life than the life of an average shelf.

Chris Brown, still on probation for assaulting Rihanna, was charged with assault by a women in an Anaheim nightclub; what’s the difference between Chris Brown and Michael Douglas? Chris Brown throws down on women.

This NSA snitch, Edward Snowden, is turning out to be quite the weasel; he lied on his resume, he snitched on terrorist trackers, now he is negotiating with countries that hate us, Ecuador and Russia. What’s next? “Dancing with the Stars.”

This NSA snitch, Edward Snowden, is turning out to be quite the weasel; he lied on his resume, he snitched on terrorist trackers, now he is negotiating with countries that hate us, Ecuador and Russia. What’s next? He is going to marry a Kardashian.

Congratulations to the Chicago Blackhawks; they made the playoffs, won the Championship and now are going to have a victory parade. To which the Chicago Cubs are saying; “What are those words playoffs, championship and victory parade of which you speak?”

Since you asked:

We here at a.L.b.B. like to think of life as a classroom, and you should strive to learn something every day. What did I learn today? If there are two restaurants next to each other, one has fifty people eating there and one has nobody eating in it? Don’t get a meatball sandwich from the empty restaurant that you will eat and then throw up one hour afterwards. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Starland Vocal Band - Afternoon Delight (1976)

God only knows how much I hated this song

Thanks to their forechecking, they scored glove-side on a one-timer during a power play, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

The US Air Guitar Championships are in Los Angeles this August; the title of Air Guitar Champion is the second most useless title to Best Blowup Doll Lover.

Kim Kardashian and Kanye West named their baby girl North West; apparently the name: Messed Up For Life was taken.

New York Yankee great, Joe Torre’s daughter, Christine, caught a baby that fell from a fire escape in Brooklyn; good thing she wasn’t a Mets player’s daughter. She would have made an error throwing the baby to first.

Tonight is game six of the Stanley Cup Championship series between the Chicago Blackhawks and the Boston Bruins. Or as Chicago Cubs fans call a championship series; “What’s that?”

After Hostess went bankrupt, Twinkies will be back on shelves July 15th; “Thanks goodness Twinkies are coming back because Americans were getting too skinny,” said nobody.

Ho Hos are back. And I don’t mean the Kardashian sisters, Hostess is bringing back the other Ho Hos, the cake treat. Our long National Nightmare is almost over.

Random Thoughts;

Saw a guy who hit the douche-bag cinco-fecta; socks with sandals, loudly scuffling the sandals on the pavement while wearing wool hat and slowly meandering down the middle of the parking lot while yammering loudly on his blue-tooth.

What do I hate? Having my Time Warner WiFi out all day and having to listen to Time Warner commercials during the Blackhawks game.

Why does someone I admire so much, David Letterman, insist on allowing Paris Hilton to be on his show? Let that silly, slutty, stupid vapid bitch disappear for crying-out-loud.

Folks, you can either whine about the government ignoring you or you can whine about the government snooping in on our phone calls, you don’t get both.

Are there any athletes tougher than hockey players? Navy Seals should recruit NHL hockey players to go on water that is frozen.

Seriously, has anyone ever heard a loud one-sided cell phone conversation that wasn’t completely useless? It is never “Snip the bomb’s red wire.” Or “Place the stint in the aorta” or “The terrorists are in apartment 232, move in now.”

No. It’s always “I dunno, whaddya you wanna do?” “I dunno, what do you wanna eat?” “I dunno, what do you wanna watch?” Working at NSA and going over these conversations must be a living hell. Your friends calling me on the horn. Used car sales appearances. That’s why I don’t do two shows a night anymore. I won’t do it. We come for your daughter, Chuck.

(Growing applause for those last few “BeetleJuice” references)

Mark my words, next time I am standing in line at the snotty, organic grocery store, I am going to take out my cell phone and say out loud;

"The jihadist Mombasa operatives are sequestered in the arms depot; initialize air support and proceed with ground assault on my count:  five, four, three, two, one, Mission Gopher Alley Truncate is a go, repeat M.G.A.T.  is a go, go, advance with extreme prejudice, no prisoners, repeat, no prisoners. Over."

Then I will turn to the person next to me and say; 

"Hey, how is it going? Beautiful day, huh? Isn't that coconut water the stuff?"

There are maybe one thousand people in this country out of 315 million who have absolutely now idea how a grocery store check-out machine works. So why are they always in front of me at the grocery store?

Coolest name in sports? Close between Colt McCoy and Tuuka Rask. 

Didn't I tell you this Snowden dick-bag was an a-hole? Just like the  "whistleblower" vile reptile I knew. Whistleblower is a fancy term for lying snitch. 

Nothing sums up how miserably unhappy I was the summer of our bicentennial, 1976: hamstring and back horrible injured, future at college in Long Beach wildly questionable, and, for lack of a better word, dating and then dumped by an albeit pretty yet spoiled, selfish and sexually repressed Winnetka mental basket case – and believe me, that is saying something – rich-brat most-psycho girl in all of the North Shore, nothing brings that entire horrible memory back faster than the insipid song “Afternoon Delight.” Lord only knows how much I hated that song. 

One year later, I was dating - and this time I mean really DATING, if you know what I mean -  a veritable phalanx of gorgeous Brooks College fashion design and modeling wannabee models and was headed for UC Santa Barbara.

Life be funny. Life be quick. Life be funkier than a space food stick.

Beetlejuice - Day-o (Banana Boat Song)