Monday, December 29, 2014

Day 1- The Sorta-Rican Solution

Good Morning My fine,dear friends:-)

I hope this day finds you ecstatically happy as the proverbial clam.  I am.  Don't have to adapt that posture one iota until the sun comes up.

 June Carter ( my faithful K9 companion and super-hero) is snoring little doggy snores and breaking little doggy wind (Phew) under her very own cow-spotted blanket (just her size) right next to me on the sofa.   Elvis ( my large floppy eared hound dog with the sweet yet delusional comportment of a cartoon princess)  is making sure that every square inch of my bed is getting laid upon in my absence.  We've had this worked out for quite some time - I exist merely to serve. It's these quiet smelly times in the wee small hours,  that stir me to reflection and postulation.  Lucky You:-)
I love my pups unabashedly.  They're like children.  I miss my children when they were small.  Those soft floppy ears, the cute way they used to drag their little butts on the carpet when they needed wormed, teaching them to fetch and how to chase cars  -0 Good times..

I digress.  Today I'm here to state my case on the current state of affairs, and my intentions forthwith.  As some of you may know I've announced my candidacy for president in 2016.  If I don't have a gig that weekend,  I'm doin' it. In any event you can vote for me as a write-in as well, but I wouldn't. It's all really just a publicity stunt to help me pick up women.  Word of caution: I would be a terrible president - jus' sayin......

The real news thus far is that I am going to commit for the next 28 days to write a blog every day regarding whatever tidbits of information my caffeine addled brain can manage to pounce on and hold down long enough to postulate an intelligent thought on.  I'm a wordy thinker:-)

It seems that an ever increasing number of people find my psychotic musings  humorous and entertaining. (Who knew being a delusional smart-ass could be so much fun:-).To those folks I want to thank you whole heartedly and ask in all sincerity, "Do you  really think this is a good idea to encourage me? " (It could be said that it's a bit like teaching a flatulent Labrador that  it's O.K. to dig in the yard and sniff crotches)  

 For some folks I am an acquired taste , for others -I have no taste.Wherever you may fit in that broad demographic I certainly appreciate your interest and support more than you could possibly know.  It is this kind of positive affirmation that my therapist says is adding up to real progress. (I no longer dig in the yard or sniff crotches)   In any event the oyster is never as beautiful as the pearl.  (If you hear me blowin' bubbles, I'm makin' pearls)

It's beautiful here this morning.  Mountains of Montana snow falling from the sky (But we're in Colorado?- Thanks a ton ya damn Norski's) and laying in thick chilly blankets all over the countryside.  My trailer is snug as a bug and the peanut butter jar has plenty in it.  It's lookin' like a good day for snowshoeing 30 miles to the store through the blinding snow to get cough medicine for Timmy  - Oh fuck Timmy!!!.  Stayin right here at home in my day-glo boxers, red terry bathrobe and snakeskin cowboy boots.(I'm a real clothes horse)  It's time for some Hulu and Ding-Dongs (Hostess Ding-Dongs ya perv)

In two days I will gird my loins (with terrycloth and snakeskin)  and ride across the great divide into the mad fray at THe Mad Cow in Greeley, Co.  I'll be accompanied there by the ever illustrious Miss Emily, a true diamond in a field of daisies. She has voluminous super-powers.   Her ninjitsu is formidable, and I never fear getting mugged in her stalwart presence. Put her in some MC Hammer pants and a black hijab and she'll whup yer ass seventeen ways from Sunday using only her voice.  Nice girl:-)

Let's start here shall we?  THe first half-cup of coffee from my byzantine drip-coffee machine is what I refer to as my daily "near-espresso" experience.  It's the jump start of caffeine that I require each day to invigorate bowel and mind, thereby releasing  the razor-sharp tools of deduction and uncanny insight that the world has grown to expect from a Revolutionary Artiste and Sorta-Rican Trailer Park army of one, such as Yours Truly.  Sharp as a light bulb in a sock drawer:-) 

I'm a physical specimen of wonder.  It's taken years to sculpt this physique.  You may not believe it but I was once an ugly duckling.  (Until I blossomed).  Now my daily exercise regime is all about maintaining the sacred temple that God and I have built.  I usually start with several laps from the coffee pot to the bathroom and back.  3 days a week I do a sit-up and 3 days a week I do a pushup- 1 day off to let the muscles rest.I drink only 20 oz. cans of beer, or larger,  for good arm strength. And on leg days I stand upright for as long as 2-3 minutes at a whack.   It sounds as strenuous as it is, but real performers know all too well the taste of sacrifice and relish in it's myriad challenges.  Nickie Minaj knows my pain.

After the workout I rest a bit and then try with all my might to  refrain from commenting on the 32,000 daily comments and happenings on my Facebook page (and fail like a Savings & Loan in the 80's).  That's where the rubber meets the road for me. When I see stupid I gotta speak up, and there's so much stupid -  Grandma said I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle. To shut up is to risk spontaneous human combustion  from rancid thoughts festering into explosive gases. 

 It's an old story. As a child I grew accustomed to the nearly constant begging from parents, teachers, adults, peers, barn animals, etc , to "pleaseeeee just SHUT UP" for a change / for once /for as long as it takes for the moon to circle Uranus".  A priest told me once  that every time I open my  mouth and smart off an angel gets hemorrhoids.  That's gotta itch. It all culminated in 1974, when I was 14. My parents left home in the middle of the night and didn't exactly leave a forwarding address. Just a box of cereal and some Moon Pies. Poor things just couldn't take anymore.

As a young man with very little guidance, no common-sense, and buckets of blind libido , it wasn't long until I discovered first-hand, how many sweet little doe-eyed country girls (and hairy-knuckled farm dads)  you could piss off at one time before they started shootin'.  Good to know at any age.

I never really considered marriage as an alternative until, at 17,  it was suggested to me at gunpoint over a home-pregnancy test. That was just the first time, but it did color the experience for the next 5 nuptials and 12 "near-Mrs". as well. To this very day, I still can't get married without being blind slobberin drunk on cheap tequila and  prescription opioids.  It's a stress reaction. Word of caution ladies: don't get me drunk near a church unless you're willing to deal with the repercussions. 

Although marriage wasn't my cup of tea in the end, I was miraculously able to father 4 beautiful children who display none of my worst characteristics and all of my best. They sparkle.  They are brilliant and responsible and intelligent, and we're all amazed that we're related. Not a  butt-dragger amongst 'em.

Music has been my lifeline and saving grace.  It has soothed my inner idiot and provided meaty gruel for my soup bowl nourishing body, mind, and spirit. . If it weren't for music I doubt if I'd have any redeeming virtues what-so-ever. 

Music has not only lifted me from obscurity, it has provided the opportunity to travel. Specifically,  to experience foreign countries, to marry foreign women, to be chased through the Swiss country-side by a family of armed and pissed-off gypsys , and to get chased out of 2 foreign countries by the immigration police. (I've never been gladder that I didn't play something large and conspicuous like tuba or Timpani). For that experience alone, I thank heaven for music (and the piss-poor aim of the gypsies).

In the coming days and weeks, I hope to share more stories and recollections of life as a Sorta-Rican Free-Thinking army of one  with all of you.  It can be entertaining, informative, or just another graphic example of why you don't want toddlers drinking dish soap.  (Makes 'em retarded and smart-assed snarky )

In this blog I'm gonna talk about all the things that being a musical maverick and near-talent encompasses.  Twerking, fashion-tips, Fast-food specials, currency exchange rates,  fitness for performers in the real world. _ Alternate tunings  glottal manipulation,  and national truck stop reviews .  It'll be fun and you could be a part of it.  

Subscribe to my blog and you too, could be, delusional and amazed  for periods of up to 4 hours.  (For erections lasting longer than 4 hours you should smack it vigorously against the side of the garage for a while until it looks like it's dead, and then call your doctor). 

Until tomorrow, go forth and prosper. Be kind, Be cool, Be fashion aware.  

Peace-Out till manyana

(rap song playing in the distance )

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