Category: snappy

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I’m still working through my issues with country music. I can’t hear refrains of Garth Brooks, or his alter ego Chris Gaines, without smelling the wafting aroma of Jack Daniels, which I can’t drink and makes me sick. I hear Willie Nelson and get the urge to scoop out my ears and pack my head with sawdust, it hurts so bad. I know every word of every George Strait song and it haunts me in the wee hours of the night. Brad Paisley and Kenny Chesney are to country music what the Simpson sisters are to pop. (ok, Ashley, Hard and Angry Pop.) The words and melody of Reba McEntire’s Fancy Don’t Let Me Down, while heartwarming, will not vacate the premises once someone lets them loose in my brain. It’s possible that I might be having a strong reaction to country music based on my upbringing which included a small Utah town where we had one radio station in town – country music, and everyone listened to the radio – country music, and concerts that came close were, yes, country music. And as a pre-pubescent teen and a full-fledged one, it was my job, nay, my calling and duty , to be different than those around me. So I listened to Wham, of course. And the Outfield. And INXS. And Def Leppard. Pour Some Sugar On Me, man. Just don’t ask me to be a prostitute so you can eat. And if you would have been there, you would have known that I chose to listen to that type of music solely to let Satan have access to my mind through the backmasting.

Yes, I’d say there are some issues there.

So, imagine my surprise a few years ago when I realized that I could enjoy Blue Grass without having any trickle-down-effect. And I’ve explored around a little and been loving it. This cd I picked up at Amoeba the other day = stellar. Iron Horse rocks.

p.s. This photo is a simulation of this one.

We went to see New York Doll, the story of how Killer Kane found religion. Specifically, the Mormons.

Here is an interview with the film maker, Greg Whiteley.

One of my favorite parts, there were so many, including the sweet senior-aged Sisters at the LA Family History Center who said they wouldn’t mind being his groupies even at their age, was after the entire movie was over, after the credits were done, David Johansen, a.k.a. Buster Poindexter, sang ‘A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.‘

Can’t recommend it highly enough.

Here she is giving me the fingers.

And here is the link to the 2 movies where she picks her nose.

I know this has gone everywhere and seen everything, but when I’m in love, I’m in LOVE.

Numa Numa Dance video via Albino Black Sheep.

Aim for success, not perfection. Never give up your right to be wrong, because then you will lose the ability to learn new things and move forward with your life. Remember that fear always lurks behind perfectionism. Confronting your fears and allowing yourself the right to be human can, paradoxically, make you a far happier and more productive person.

Dr. David M. Burns

This guy was on the front lawn yesterday.

Click on them to go to Flickr and see the large size.