Oh God, I've Become One Of Them

I used to smoke like a fiend - a carton a week all through my twenties. And, like Bill Hicks, I thought all non-smokers were pussies. However, after quitting cold turkey about eight years ago, I slowly shifted from tolerating smoking to being slightly annoyed by it. Now, I shamefully admit that I've moved over into the "disgusted by smoking" category. It's not so much the smokey bars that are the problem. I've performed in bars for twenty years and gotten used to it. No, it's smelling it away from bars that has finally pushed me over the edge. I had no idea just how much it reeked until I quit, which has finally led me to the conclusion that it is fucking gross. So smoke away my malodorous brethren. I'll never be "that guy" - the guy who tells you to quit (unless you're my brother).

Krystally Kool

I've been meaning to get this off my chest for awhile but has anyone seen these cheesy (no pun intended) Krystal commercials aimed and starring dorky college kids? For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, each commercial features a group of students who submit their own "Krystal Lover" testimonials that are filmed and shown with an air of faggotry I haven't seen since the infamous Mentos commercials. If this is a true representation of college life these days, then we're in a lot of trouble. The frat daddies and sorostitutes shown in these ads are total tools and for some reason mostly hail from the south. Now I admit that I was once a frat daddy myself, but I would've gotten my ass kicked up and down University Blvd. had I acted this queer. I love a drunken Krystal combo as much as the next person - I just hope I don't act that gay while I'm eating them.

Ah, The Power of Photoshop

Thanks Dumbass!

So my buddy Jay and I played the other night at a smallish bar here in town to a crowd of about 20 or so drunks and buffoons. After our riveting performance of the Luna version of "Sweet Child Of Mine", some dude walks up and asks if he can sing and play "Patience" by G&R. Now let me say one thing first. NOTHING is more annoying to a musician than a complete stranger who asks if he can take over your gig. It actually happens more than you think and it amazes me how some people consider a stage with real musicians as their own personal karaoke showcase. Not only did this guy want to sing - he actually wanted us to exit the stage area and let him perform solo. I actually let someone do this a long time ago and he dropped my guitar, putting a crack in the wood. So now, I make it a policy of allowing no one access to my instrument unless it's a friend or relative or someone that I ask to sit in.

Anyway, after politely telling him no and relating the dropped guitar story, he kept on. "Dude, I won't drop your guitar. I've got a hundred dollar bill in my wallet that you can hold onto while I play in case anything happens to it." Yeah, well, I paid $500 for the guitar but thanks anyway. He then began sharing his credentials with us - that he had lived in Nashville, he sang with Shelby Lynne, blah blah blah. So finally, I told him he could sing the song with our accompaniment. Once we launched into it, this guy started gripping the microphone the way Paris Hilton grips a stiffy. And he didn't so much sing into the mic as much as he made love to it, even keeping his eyes closed (thank God I had him sing into Jay's mic and not mine). But I noticed he was channeling Axl Rose with a heavy country twang that made it even doubly annoying. Finally and mercifully, the song ended.

But the story doesn't end there. Before we could play another note, he was hollering for us to "play some cawntry!" and began launching into a series of classic country songs a capella. I tried explaining to him that I had sung these songs a thousand times in another band but he wouldn't shut up. After he began singing "Folsom Prison Blues" at the top of his lungs, we relented by playing "I Got Stripes" by Johnny Cash. Although not one of Cash's best known songs, it was featured in the movie Walk The Line. As we played it, he stared blankly at us like he had never heard the song before. Whatever - we played the damn country song and took a break. Before we could make it to our seats, this guy was at us again trying to let him sing some "cawntry". He then walked up to some folks at the bar and started singing more a capella cawntry classics at the top of his lungs, seemingly trying to get the fellow patrons to join him on his crusade of terror. He finally approached me and said he'd give me a hundred dollars if I let him play and sing ONE song. I looked at Jay with disbelief and then back at the buffoon. "Okay". What can I say? I'm a complete whore. However, once he handed me the bill, he started trying to guilt trip me. "Dude, I can't believe a fellow musician would actually take the money." Then you don't really know many musicians, do you dipshit?

So we walked up there, I handed him my guitar and went back to my seat. When I looked up, I noticed that he was holding the guitar against his body without using the strap. I walked back up there and asked him what he was doing. "I don't usually use these strap things," he said. Then how the fuck do you hold the guitar up while you play? I guess he could see in my eyes that this was unacceptable, so he started to put the strap on BACKWARDS ever the wrong shoulder. I was dumbfounded that this self-described Nashville Star honestly didn't know how to strap on a guitar correctly. Unbelievable. He then began playing a series of random chords and started singing the opening verse to "Dixieland Delight", albeit to the wrong chords. Needless to say, it sounded horrible. He attempted to sing several other songs to no avail. Finally, he started singing something else that was utterly unrecognizable at first. I soon realized the song he was butchering was "Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Joonya. To his credit, I gotta give him creativity points for choosing the most bizarre chord progression imaginable for such a simple song. I walked up to the bar and Kyle, the manager, yelled "What is this shit?!? Get this fucker off - now!"

So we dragged him away and thus ended the musical odyssey of the idiot Nashville Star wannabe. I split the money with Jay, since he had to suffer through it just as much as I did.

Ashamed to be Caucasian, 3-D

Last night I got dragged to a new bar here in town called "Twist & Shout". This place is one of those "dueling piano" type establishments that I tend to dread going to. And sure enough, my dread was warranted. What you get at this place is two overweight dorky white guys (don't say it) playing and singing the lowest common denominator of tame classic pop songs for an audience of drunk caucasians. Watching a bunch of tools wearing shorts and flip-flops singing aloud to 'Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay' and 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia' is not my idea of entertainment. These performers were as soul-less as their scrotums are ball-less. I felt like I was watching a Don "No Soul" Simmons concert. So if you're ever in the 'ham, don't waste your time at this place.

Rediscovering Floyd

Of the many things I remember about the spring of '88- dating my first psycho, graduating high school, losing my virginity on the floor of a fucking bath tub with the shower water raining on us- one that sticks out that was seemingly cool at the time was the introduction of Classic Rock 99.5 in the Birmingham market. I remember thinking how cool it was to be able to hear Zeppelin, The Who, The Doors, etc. on the radio instead of Top 40 crap. What I didn't realize, however, was that they'd stick to the same core playlist for 20 fucking years! They literally have a list of about 1000 songs by the same 200 artists that they play over and over, something akin to Chinese water torture. Why didn't I just change the station, you might ask? Well, the other options were simply worse, and this was before CD's and mp3's. Because of this, I got sick of several of these artists before I had a chance to really delve into their material.

One of these such artists was Pink Floyd. Being forced to listen to Money, Comfortably Numb, Another Brick In The Wall Part 2 and Wish You Were Here several million times would do it to anyone. Despite my friends Andrew and David totally immersing themselves into this band, I just thought they were weird (Them: "Oh come on man, 'Bike' is genius! 'The Final Cut' is brilliant!" Me: Zzzzzzzzzz). Since then and expecially lately, however, I've started to listen again with a little more intensity. And while I still can't grasp Animals or The Final Cut or the Syd Barrett era, I think most of their stuff is breathtaking, especially The Dark Side Of The Moon. The songs and the sound make for a perfect marriage of futuristic yet artistic clutter and organic beauty. It really is one of the greatest albums of all time. I also think Wish You Were Here and The Wall are inspired as well in their songwriting and storytelling. Why am I writing all of this? I dunno. Slow Day I guess. Peace out.

This Oge Bidness

Once again, the Oge has gotten bored with being inconspicuous and decided to carry out an armed robbery with some of his pals. Why can't this guy do us all a favor and move to an island somewhere to live the rest of his miserable existance? Because he's an attention whore, even if it means flirting with the law. He can't stand being an irrelevant bystander on the sidelines. He's gotta be the man. I hope he goes away for a looooooong time (unfortunately, we won't get that lucky). Don't bend over for the soap, Juice.

Trifecta

With Bama's exciting yet heart attack inducing victory last night, it completed a trifecta which constitutes the ultimate day in college football - an Auburn loss, a Tennessee loss and a Tide victory. Things may not be back to normal quite yet (that comes when the clock strikes :00 on November 24th) but they sure are looking up. It's just all part of the process, aight?

Jorts. Why?

You've seen 'em. You've chuckled to yourself at people who wear them (unless, of course, you're one of the poor bastards who wear them). Jorts, aka denim shorts, have made a comeback this summer by tools everywhere. Like those who sport mullets, jorts wearers are part of an exclusive club whose members are seemingly unaware that the rest of the country looks upon them with disdain and ridicule. And why is it that only those with the whitest legs wear them? This is just one of those things that never cease to amaze me. Stand up and be proud jorts people!

Desperation

MTV has announced a new reality show- "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila". Tila Tequila is a bisexual MySpace phenomenon and on the show she'll be choosing from among both male and female suitors. Just what the hell is the world coming to anyway? Do they not think that parents will be outraged and stage a smear campaign against the network? This thing will be yanked after one episode. MTV's ratings have been plummeting for years, and this move screams of desperation.

MTV has become a joke. During their heyday, you could turn it on at any given time and see a number of cheesy, low budget videos that were brilliant in their primitiveness. Remember Greg Kihn's "Jeopardy"? Who can forget "Mexican Radio" by Wall of Voodoo, Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" or bouffanted Wally Palmar's lisp in "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics? Hell, even the Stones's best videos were the cheap-ass ones from Tattoo You. And one of the greatest videos of all time? Why Van Halen's "Jump" of course, which infamously cost $1000 to make. When video budgets got bigger, so did the level of boredom and rubbishness - an interesting correlation indeed. That's also around the time that videos began disappearing from the network, making way for crappy game and reality shows like the one mentioned above. Put yourselves and the rest of us out of our misery and just shut it down already.

Go Team Win!

Alright, I haven't posted in awhile. My mind has been consumed with football lately and I figured you people are tired of hearing about it. Sometimes I wish I had never been turned onto sports- it's caused more stress and frustration than joy. But no, from the time I was able to use my legs I had to be running around the yard wearing a #12 Bama jersey carrying a football. I used to actually play whole football games by myself in the front yard. I'm sure people passing by would say "Oh, that's nice" when they saw a 5 year-old kid passing the ball and tackling himself.

Between the Tide and the Braves, it's been a constant roller coaster of emotions for over thirty damn years. For every Van Tiffin and Francisco Cabrera, there've been lots of Jeff Dunns and Dan Kolbs. Would I trade it all to be a USC and Yankees fan? Hell no.

Who's Gonna Be The Next Gay Republican Out Of The Closet?

In light of Idaho Republican Senator Larry Craig's arrest for "lewd conduct in a men's room", Republicans have once again put themselves under the microscope. It's become an annual rite of passage for Republicans on Capitol Hill to come under fire for questionable homosexual behavior. And it's funny how it always seems to be the ones who are the most adamantly against gay rights that get busted for these acts.

So who will the next one be? My money's on Saxby Chambliss of Georgia. Why? 'Cause he has such a gay name. And he just looks like the kind of old man who'd like to be peed on by other men.

I'm Nick Saban, Bitch!

Keep Off The Strip

Dear Alabama Football Players,

After yet another one of your teammates, Simeon Castille, was arrested last weekend at 2AM on The Strip in T-town, I implore you to refrain from being anywhere near The Strip anytime after 10:00PM and concentrate on annihilating Western Carolina in less than two weeks. With the exception of catching a glimpse of a drunk coed's titties, there is absolutely nothing positive that can happen on The Strip after midnight. Use your brain and just stay the fuck away from there.

Sincerely,

TT Coe

The Mania is Building...

Alabama fans are about to blow a load over the impending football season set to open in two weeks. At work, on the radio, on the street- everywhere you go people are awash with waves of crimson crazy. It's completely understandable. All you have to do is close your eyes and visualize Dumbose the seal, Fran the fraud, Price the horndog and Shula the deer in headlights. It's been a frustrating roller coaster of a decade in the Bama nation. All we've wanted is some stability and a true leader. And with Nick, it appears that we've found the right guy. Now people need to rattle their brains and dig in for the long haul, because it's gonna take some time. Sure, we may break off a big win or two this year (hopefully over TN and Aub) but Nicky's going to need a couple of years to install his system and instill a winning mindset into the players who are already here. After all, we're talking about guys who are used to playing close for three quarters only to have the rug yanked out from under them in the fourth.

So keep on livin' and keep on dreamin' Tide fans. Go ahead with your dreams of a 600 yards-per-game offense and 10 wins this season. Keep on sleeping with a smile on your face with visions of Nick peeing on you while you rub it in. Go crazy!

Get On Board- Start Hating Tennessee Early

Dammit I'm ready for college football! Why? Because of stuff like this. Here is a classic quote from Clay Travis of CBS Sportsline (who himself is a Vol fan):

The Michigan Wolverines sort of remind me of my Tennessee Vols- Outrageously talented, Saturdays full of pageantry with a fight song that's fun to hum, a stadium that seats over 100,000 people, and a coach who has not said anything interesting in about 20 years. Oh, and they find ways to have great seasons yet still leave all of their fans feeling unfulfilled. Basically UT and Michigan are to college football what dry humping is to sex.

Totally Useless Info of the Day

If you eat salted cashews while drinking Raspberry Lemonade flavored Crystal Light, the aftertaste kinda tastes like Froot Loops. Cool - I think I'm on to something!

Wh...What Did He Just Say?

This is an actual quote from first-year University of Miami head coach Randy Shannon commenting about two of his players, Graig Cooper and Javarris James. When asked about Cooper in the spring, Shannon said:

"I think Coop did a great job. He brought some some excitement to the team. And he's a calm guy. He's not an arrogant or flamboyant guy. Believe it or not, he and Javarris James are kind of like butt buddies."

Crowded House - Time On Earth

I've had this album for two weeks now and have literally listened to it over and over since then while exercising or driving my car. This is one of those albums that doesn't hit you right away. In fact, I thought it was pretty average upon my first listen. But I have faith in Neil Finn, so I kept playing it. And oh, how I've been rewarded. Like all my favorite albums, this is one that you have to allow time to trickle over you like a weak-streamed shower with shitty water pressure. While the subject matter isn't entirely up-lifting- a lot of it deals indirectly with the loss of original drummer Paul Hester to suicide a few years ago- it still grabs ahold of you and infects your soul. Time On Earth may not rank as high as Temple Of Low Men, but it's close. "Don't Stop Now", "Pour Le Monde" and "She Walked Her Way Down" are instant CH classics. And Neil Finn should be included in any discussion of the greatest rock/pop songwriters of this or any era. And to top it off, I'm getting to see them for the first time next month in Hotlanta, albeit without Hester- R.I.P.

Oh Goody!

Gotta love the outdoor summer gigs. Tonight, we (The Uptown Rulers) are playing for a party at Vulcan Park and wouldn't you know that this is going to be the hottest day of the summer so far. Earlier this week on the local NBC affiliate's morning show (which is gayer than a Pontiac Aztek but that's for another day), the forecast for the week included descriptions for each day - "Afternoon Showers", "Cloudy and Muggy", etc. For Thursday (today) it actually said "Really Hot". Then today it was updated with "Mighty Hot". Fantastic! I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoy loading band equipment in July and sweating my balls off. But hey, I know, that's why they pay us.