Bobby Joe Thorazine: Editorials For The Apathetic

I Didn't Get My Hair Cut, I Washed It And It Shrank

     Good Monday to everyone. I hope your weekend was as pleasant as mine. I got a lot accomplished and had relatively good time, despite seeing an overrated hardcore band this Saturday. The big thing I did was to get a haircut, always a pivotal moment in one’s week. I don’t really care for the response that always follows. You know, everyone going, “Oh, you got a haircut,” like it’s something that you’re unaware of. The only thing worse than everyone taking note of it is when they don’t.

    & nbsp; I only get my hair cut about every six months because I consider it an unnecessary expense. Still, it can be something exciting and fun. I did make a mistake in my choice of barber, however…again. The last six or seven times I’ve gotten it cut I’ve made poor choices. Once I let a black woman cut it. That’s just a mistake. Black women can not cut white men’s hair in any way that makes sense. The factors are just too different. This Saturday I had a white girl do it who had just graduated beautician’s school and now works at one of those Sport’s Cuts places. She didn’t really do what I asked. I walked out looking just like every other customer the place has, like a race car driver. Yuck.

     The only people I should be letting near my head are gay men. They’re always keen on style and brutally honest. A gay man is going to go, “You don’t seriously want me to do THAT, do you? What about this? It will give you the look you’re going for without making you look like a dork. It will be stylish and make you look attractive. Trust me.”

     You got it, Juan. Make me a stud.

     Maybe that sounds cliché’. I know that there are some gay men that have no sense of style what so ever. They’re the ones that work at some cheap desk job for a laundry mat, are over weight, sport goatees, old jerseys and are more bigoted than anybody in their entire disowning family. Still, let’s be honest, most of them aren’t like that, especially the ones who cut hair. They know what’s hot, what’s not and what is going to work for you. I have never gotten up from the chair after some flaming fag went to town on my head without going, “Damn! I look really good. Great job!”

     I should have just told the girl, I wanted a classic Keith Richards do and, if she became confused, gotten up and left. I just really wanted it cut. From now on I’m only going to places with names I can’t pronounce and I’m going to insist that I get my trim from the queen in the front with two t-shirts falling off of his taught chest and a lolly pop in his foul and slanderous mouth.

     Ah, well. It’s not all bad and it will grow back. I’ve just spent too much time depending on my own ability to keep up with current trends. Just because I can go, “When the fuck is Brett Michaels going to join us all in the 21^st century?” doesn’t mean that everyone else can, beautician or not. I almost went for that new look Marilyn Manson is sporting but, I figured my boss would have a fit. As a receptionist, I doubt I’d win the trust of too many advertisers looking like a dashboard troll. I wish I could find something that looked conservative on the week days and wild on the weekend but, there really isn’t anything that doesn’t look like that’s exactly what you’re going for. It’s not like a piercing. Maybe I should just let it grow back down to my ass while I still have it.

     No matter. The weekend was good and I have less cow licks to worry about. Again I hope everyone else had fun the past two days and I will have something else completely pointless to tell you about tomorrow.

"Do You, Responsibility, Take Frustration To Be Your Lawfully Married Partner...?"

     I feel like road kill. I didn’t get any sleep last night because of nightmares. I kept waking up every hour after epic long dreams of being chased by the Mob, Blackula and his vampire minions, a horny Cass Elliot… Ugh! I am wiped out. The last one had me hanging out with Duff McCagen, Betty White and a chimp, smoking cheap cigars and faxing dirty letters to strangers. The only good and consistent thing about any of the dreams was that I could fly. What a night.

    & nbsp; So, I stumbled into work like a zombie only to find that a certain confirmation for meeting attendance from several faculty members still hadn’t arrived. When I tried to call one office I was greeted by a bitchy secretary who informed me that the number I had dialed was wrong. It was, in fact, listed as the number I was looking for but, it didn’t contact the person I needed. I asked if she might know the correct one and was told, in an even bitchier voice, “No, I do not!” I thanked her and secretly began to plot sneaking laxatives and acid into her morning cappuccino. Why do people feel the need to fuck with me the most when I feel the worst?

     So, on to the next portion of my morning agenda, finalizing the details of this meeting with my supervisor. I hate dealing with her. As a person she’s great. As a boss she’s just another nightmare. She expects the impossible and is very condescending about it. She’s not bad about administrating but is horrible at telling people how to accomplish what needs to be done. She just expects people to automatically know. When I confronted her about it she became very defensive and said that she felt I was saying she was a bad teacher. I didn’t have the heart or courage to tell her that was, in fact, the case. She doesn’t teach much and how she made it this far at a university is beyond me. She’s terrible. I drew blood out of my tongue and considered setting aside some more laxatives.

     I am so glad its Friday. Even if I can’t fill up on whiskey I think I’ll definitely go out and find some trouble to get into. Those co-eds that I’ve talked myself into respecting may not be safe this weekend. I may pick up a couple and just wear the bitches out. Or maybe I’ll get into a fight. I could seek out some skin heads and take my aggressions out on them. Or maybe I could go to a Catholic Mass or a Young Republican rally. Some kind of deviant and unholy activities are going to have to take place even if it means just staying home and watching FOX.

     Despite everything the meeting went well and I am beginning to get caught up on a lot of work. Ideally the daily problems I’m experiencing will slowly digress. This, coupled with my band’s up coming performances should improve my over all attitude about life I general. Now if I can just get my family to stop acting like crack heads I may not care about my sleep dysfunctions, appetite fluctuation or inability to have an orgasm.

Thursday Blog Review: Special Edition

     Okay, I know a lot of people have been dreading this. This is the post I’ve been promising that isn’t all high praise. Well, not to worry. It’s not what you think. We already have Idiotsreaction doing the really dirty (and in their case, unnecessary) work, so I see no reason to tear into people who aren’t as talented as others. The flip side is I’ve reviewed all the blogs that I feel are, more or less, flawless. Most of us have a few things negative about our sites and before I get into reviewing any further, I want to establish what I perceive those to be and why. Also, I’ll discuss the types of blogs that have little or no chance of getting reviewed, simply because I don’t want to splatter somebody.

     Let me add that I feel we could all improve. My blog is far from perfect and I spend a lot of mental energy trying to make it better. I tend to complain a lot and post nonsense just to have something on the page. All of us have short comings. These reviews are critiques with the purpose of highlighting writers' strong points, as well as discussing where they need work. The episode of Sex in the City where Cari releases her book and gets a New York Times review was on TBS last night. She didn’t take note of all the good things the reviewer said, only the last line that said she portrayed men as “disposable”. When I site short comings, please try and keep an open mind and not let your heart do your thinking for you.

     Okay. Criteria for a good blog are, in my opinion, as follows:

     1) Character- It needs to have its own personality. This isn’t terribly difficult because we all have our own and they tend to shine in our writing. Still, if a blog doesn’t engage the reader with  style and color then it lacks the magnitude of character to be good. This not only applies to the content but also the design.

     2) Content- These are, essentially, diaries and you should be able to post whatever the hell you feel like. However, these are diaries that are available to the public to read and if the public finds it boring or ignorant then there’s no charm. If you’re going to post it with the hopes that others will read and comment on it, make it intriguing. It’s okay if your opinions are the type others don’t typically agree with as long as they hold our interest. Telling us you have a hang nail and you can’t find your other sock isn’t worth posting.  

     3) Writing- Again, if this is for public consumption, it needs to be worth reading. A writer’s ability to use the language is what it all depends on. If you can write in ways that spark colorful images in other’s minds then even hang nails might become worth reading about. I don’t even feel that good grammar is necessarily all that important as long as your words themselves have substance, style and are engrossing. I should also say that if your blog is not mostly about writing, for example those that are mostly photographs, the same criteria apply. Give it style, post quality material and do it well.

     Now, there are several types of blogs that tend to automatically suck. They have a basic design that is almost always destine to fail.

     1) Teen Blogs- Everybody’s got to start somewhere but, that’s not always an excuse. These are the one’s that we all seem to complain about more than any, the one’s that are just mindless, slang-filled, blathering about dating, homework, wild emotion and parents.

      “I saw T toda n he jest blew rit past lik I wutten nuttn. Fuk! Him, Mom, Mz Amy, dey all trippn. U no wut Im sayn. I gots to go change my tampon.”

     Huh? How is any of that genuinely working through your feelings and thoughts? It’s just drivel. Never mind that you can barely even read the misspelled slop that they write with, what does any of it really mean. Your love interest, your parent, your teacher, none of them seem to understand how you feel. You’re at a loss as to how to cope. Fine. Write it. I know I’ve compared quality writing to painting before but, there’s a difference between creating abstract art and just throwing paint at the canvas.

     2) Poetry Blogs- I have nothing against poetry or poets but, let’s face it, most people aren’t that good. Like all other forms of writing you have to use your words well. If you’re just expressing an opinion or feeling you can just come out and say it. If you’re going to write poetry then apply some form. It doesn’t have to be a sonnet or even have a rhythm/meter rhyme scheme but, for Christ’s sake, give it some aesthetic contour. Just because Motley Crue is a guilty pleasure of mine doesn’t mean I can’t recognize bad poetry.

     3) Peggy Hill Blogs- These are the ones that are clearly written by lonely house wives and shut-ins who think that they have much more to contribute to the world than they actually do. I know everyone needs to feel like they have a purpose but, the sad truth is, some people don’t and none of us should have our time wasted by considering their delusions. It’s perfectly okay to want to express you feelings and opinions but, don’t comment on objectified labor or morals and legislation when the height of you understanding of Western philosophy is how to make Frito pie.

    & nbsp; Well, that’s the “short” version of what I’m looking for. I still welcome recommendations as to who needs to be reviewed. I’m sure there are plenty of really good ones that I don’t know about. There are also plenty that I do know about and we’ll be getting back to both next week. Until then, good blogging to you all.

Available: Tyrannical Sex God-Only $50.00 an Hour! (Not Available in Canada or Kentucky)

     Well, considering all the comments and t-mail I got concerning yesterday’s S & M comment, I guess I’ve tapped into a subject you folks are genuinely interested in. What is it about leather and abuse that turns women on so? Who knows? Whatever the case, it has me thinking, what if I posted advertisements all over campus for paid domination? I wonder what kind of response it would get.

     Alright, save your reprimanding messages. I know not all women are turned on by that sort of thing …just the sort that I always seem to hook up with. I have a vivid memory of parking with my first girlfriend. I had her handcuffed to the steering wheel and was talking to her like trash while we fogged up the windows. Suddenly there was a distinct rapping on the driver’s side. I cracked the window and through the steam that billowed out I noticed a blue uniform and a shiny gold badge. I told my girlfriend, “I think you better talk to him. I don’t think he’s going to believe me.” After being told to get a room we moved on and within minutes she wanted to know when we were going to finish our little game. I left marks on that girl that will never go away. The whole time she loved it. When she did eventually leave me there were a lot of serious reasons behind it but, our wild sex life wasn’t part of it.

     Can you tell this stupid medication has left me incredibly frustrated? To use a phase I heard on Dave Chapelle last night, I’ve been beating my dick like it owes me money and I CAN NOT have an orgasm. It sucks. I’m gonna have to become a Buddhist or something. Still, if I were to take the idea of male prostitution seriously, at least I know I could perform admirably with concern only for my client’s well being…so to speak. Of course, I’d have to get a bed frame to tie her to. Right now my mattress and box spring are just sitting on cinder blocks. I still have a leash and dog collar somewhere, though.

     Maybe I could just give lessons to other prospective dominants. “Hold your slave down. Chain them to something stable in a slightly uncomfortable position. Not too uncomfortable, just enough to let them know who’s boss. Now, tell them how bad they are. Tell them they’re filth. Tell them that the only reason they even exist on this planet is for your own personal amusement and that they need to shut up and do as they’re told, otherwise you’ll put them out with the rest of the trash. Now, spank them! Spank them! Pull hair! Bite! Fuck them with the telephone receiver while their Mom is on the line! Remember, they are a vile, putrid, nasty little bitch and they belong to you…

     …Now, go in peace.”

     Eh, on second thought, maybe I’ll just try and find some nude photos of Julia-Louis Dreyfus on the net.

     God, I need therapy.

Dressed For Depressed

     I bought about six polo shirts this weekend so I would have something decent to wear to work. One thing I miss about having restaurant jobs is the uniform. You wake up and you don’t even have to think. You just put on your uniform and head out the door. That’s much easier than having to make sure you have a clean shirt pressed with matching pants and a tie that’s just the right width and pattern. Despite that, now I look just like every other desk jockey in the world and I feel like I’m blending into the walls.

     I was always a freak. I always felt confident strolling through Birmingham in a Johnny Cash shirt, worn jeans, black cowboy boots, a leather jacket and gaudy silver jewelry. My hair was usually dyed black or maroon and was either really long or cut like Keith Richards. No matter which, it was always a mess. Now I look like I’m waiting to sell somebody a Ford Ranger right off the lot. I like not having to think to get dressed. I hate not making everyone else think because of how I’m dressed. Plus, the only kind of women I’ll attract in a polo shirt and kakis are the kind I have no interest in.

     I guess it’s just part of growing up. If there were ever a poster child for Peter Pan’s syndrome then it’s me. I’ve fought adulthood tooth and nail and I’m still not even remotely comfortable in it. Every once in a while I have to go get real fucked up or buy some leather pants or flirt with college students. Of course, I can’t drink anymore and you can’t really cut loose on marijuana. I now work at the University so, hitting on students could be bad for my job security. I did buy some leather pants a few weeks ago.

     Now if I just had somewhere to wear them.

     Ah, screw it. I’m gonna start an S & M service for ladies who are looking to be dominated. I’ll get some more whips and chains and collars and ropes and pulleys and what not and solicit discipline for women who’ve been “baaaad”. That’ll keep me feeling young. Then, when Monday rolls around, I’ll put on my office clone attire and blend into the background until the next weekend. Why not?

Go Ask Alice Where I can Find An Attorney

     Oh, look, tBlog decided to work a little today. Isn't that nice? Now, if it will just let me post.

     How was everyone’s weekend? Great, great. Mine was fairly uneventful. The medication I’m on for seizures exhausts me so much that when the time for Saturday night-life rolled around I fell asleep. No big deal. I don’t really feel like I missed much.

     I gotta say, this medication has some interesting effects. It’s Paxil and it’s mainly an anti-depressant. I can tell because things certainly aren’t bothering me the way they usually do. I can’t have alcohol while I’m on it but, I don’t really seem to care. While I feel incredibly fatigued, if I get up and actually start doing something I find myself very productive and focused. It makes me a little dizzy from time to time but, it also makes me much more stable emotionally. It’s not too bad.

     Despite all this, it occurred to me that it’s probably foolish to take something without looking into it first, so I looked up Paxil on the internet. I found several sites which discuss all the medications that they prescribe for seizures and, much to my surprise, there was no reference to my medication what so ever. I called several neurologists and asked why Paxil would be prescribed for seizures. None of them would comment on another doctor’s work for legal reasons.

    Let me say here, I HATE doctors. As a customer I am a wet dream. I’m patient, kind, tip well, you-name-it. As a patient I am a nightmare because I HATE doctors. EVERY single medical professional I spoke to today was rude, obnoxious, condescending, crass and refused to help me at all. The last one I spoke to was a nurse whom I eventually hung up on. Behavior as bitter as theirs today makes me wish I would drop dead so my surviving relatives can sue the green, cotton scrub pants off of them. I hate them.

     Anyway, I’m going to schedule another appointment and find out what the hell is up. Like I said, it’s not all bad. Some of the effects of the medication have been really good. I defiantly think that an anti-depressant is a good thing for me. Of course, that doesn’t help the seizures. And then there are the negative side effects. I’m having trouble urinating and there are certain…sexual side effects. It’s not that I can’t get it up or get urges or anything, that all seems to work just fine. It’s more of the …”finishing the job” aspect that’s been a problem. When I was sexually active it usually took me a while anyway, but alone I could usually get the job taken care of in under fifteen minutes. Now, it can last for over an hour with no end in sight. That part is really unpleasant.

     No matter what, I intend to find out what’s up with this medication; why I’m on it, what it’s doing to me and what the ultimate results are going to be. In the meantime, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy the benefits and get some work done.

MR. THORAZINE’S OPINIONS AND COMMENTS REGARDING PAXIL, ANTI-DEPRESANTS OR THE MEDICAL PROFESSION IN GENERAL ARE STRICTLY HIS OWN AND ARE NOT SHARED BY tBLOG OR ANY OF ITS AFFILIATES. WE LOVE DOCTORS AND MEDICATION AND EVEN ALLOW THEM TO ADVERTISE HERE ON A REGULAR BASIS, SO PLEASE DON’T SUE US. WE DIDN’T DO NOTHIN’.-tBLOG

The Blog Mask

     Well, the wonderful response I’ve been getting from the Thursday Blog Reviews has shown me that one thing and that is we all seem to be extremely fascinated with is each other. I mean, let’s face it; one of the main reasons most of us do this is to meet people. Learning about our fellow bloggers makes us feel closer to them and bounds us as a community.

     Something else that reinforced this notion was exchanging various comments with Rosietulips yesterday. Mainly we were discussing our preconceived notions of each other. See, based on a few early comments of hers, not to mention a series of her posts concerning an ex-boyfriend, I began to form this image of her as this Middle American teen, talking to us on her computer after school and in study hall. The fact that she seemed more intelligent than most kept me from feeling too weird about conversing with a young girl. Also, there were occasionally other things she would say that made her seem a bit worldlier. There were, however, no pictures and it never dawned on me to look at her profile. I have no pictures of myself posted either. Her notion of me seems to have been that of a scraggly hayseed, chewing cud and glaring with a lazy eye. Regardless, both of us were way off.

     Rosie has another site where she does, in fact, post photos. Yesterday I viewed it and was a bit surprised. Rosie is not a child. She is not American. She’s not even female…

     …Okay, that last part is bullshit. Rosie is a woman. But, that’s just it. She is a woman, a 28 year old Asian woman living in Richmond, Canada. Much of her encoding for the sake of privacy I mistook for teen slang. As a result, I had a totally different impression of this person than she really is. This is, I have discovered, fairly common.

    & nbsp; I’ve had a few people asking me lately what I look like. Now, I don’t have a digital camera and I have no intention of getting one. This site holds the gift of complete expression with the security of privacy and I intend for it to stay that way. As I’ve said before, it isn’t ya’ll that I’m worried about, rather it’s the people in my daily life, my family and friends that I’m hiding from. I wouldn’t be as apt to share my deepest “innerds” if I thought my neighbors might see it and realize it was me. You folks however, I’ll tell anything.

     I’ll tell you what everyone tells me. I supposedly look a hell of a lot like Beck. I get it ALL the time. I can even see it a little bit myself. At work I dress like an office rat, at night I dress like a rock n’ roll thug. I’m 5’ 8” and weigh about 125 lbs. so, yeah, I’m REAL skinny. I have light brown hair, hazel eyes, wear glasses and three earrings. I speak well, smoke cigarettes, swear constantly and complain a lot. Right now I’m in desperate need of a hair cut.

     Now, what is my point to all this? I guess it’s this; it’s easy for us to make each other into what we want each other to be. I don’t mean I want teenage girls while Rosie’s looking for the company of Cooter from The Dukes of Hazard. I mean, when we only have certain amounts of information about each other we tend to fill in the other parts to make ourselves comfortable. We’re less likely to worry about what each other looks like or what our habits are and to be more concerned with how each other think. When we connect mentally, we just kind of throw the rest together in our heads. Actually, I tend to think of this as a good thing because we’re not meeting in a bar and hooking up with only the people who look like ourselves but rather those we truly have something in common with.

Thursday Blog Review

     Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, it's Thursday and that means...

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;           & nbsp;      Thursday Blog Review

     Brought to you by the makers of Bullet, the pure energy drink that will make you full of it! (Warning: may cause explosive diarrhea).

     So, how are we all today? Good, good. I'm excited because today I get to examine a young woman who may truly be the very best writer that tBlog has to offer. She comes highly recommended by a great many of my readers and with good reason. I am referring to the one and only Billlyryan.

     I can't emphasize it enough, this woman is GOOD. With so many of us struggling to produce posts with the aesthetic quality of that barn painting your Grandparents had over the fireplace, Billlyryan is a blog Picasso. Vulnerable, articulate and the very definition of poetic, she doesn't just write she paints with words, beautiful pictures of inner secrets. I have never clicked away from anything that she has written without a sincere feeling of awe.

     A native to Alaska, and the product of a broken and abusive home, Billyryan was raised in foster care and group homes. The stories she tells of her life are often dark, filled with alcohol and drug abuse, misdirection, identity crisis and loneliness. Pain and isolation seem to be the foundation she sees life built upon and the building itself is erected from loss. Still the structure and the roof are made of solid hope and the interior is decorated with love and appreciation.

     Much of her writing is retrospective. She examines her childhood, her travels, her transformation in the U.S. marines, all with an obvious longing. She says she lived in the mountains at one point and learned to hate them; the top, the climb, the decent, "...until I was gone and then I missed the effort." You can feel her develop. With each memory she exhumes she seems to be exorcising yet another demon, not quite fearlessly, but still with great determination. Currently, she is in the middle of another life change, one that is taking her to Australia and one that she hopes will be a magic turning point. From where I sit, the magic came the moment she began to write.

     Friendship and love are clearly important to her. Obviously not having a family has left a void. However, she responds to this with profound appreciation for the the connections that happen between people. When Billlyryan says that her friends are like family to her I believe it more than any other time I've heard such sentiments uttered. Where her exploits would leave most people cold and bitter, she has somehow managed to keep a bright spark in her heart that reaches out to her readers and offers promise. No matter what, keep going. It's going to be okay eventually. There is always hope.

     "Most of the time I just write about nothing until it turns into something," she says. I'm sure many of us are familiar with that practice. Billlyryan however, has a true gift for it. This woman could write me a grocery list that would bring me to tears and send warm feelings all through my soul. I strongly recommend checking out her site, not just today, but everyday from now on.

     In closing, I'd like to address the writer herself and say, Billlyryan, you are truly beautiful. Hold your head up high when you walk and never be afraid to look others in the eye with pride and joy, for you are special.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp; 

Today

     This is going to be rather short. I spent all day in a training class and have a massive stack of work piled up on my desk. I did spend a portion of my class time ignoring the profoundly boring instructor to chat with several folks. Clicking franticly between my training screen and tblurt left my comments seeming more like blather than usual. Regardless, I decided to spend a couple of minutes doing something besides giving Rosietulips a hard time.

     My class was a complete waste of time. All of it was spent hearing "how" as opposed to "why" on all of the purchase orders we have to fill out so it went very fast and taught very little. By the time that I began playing virtual hooky all I learned was that it's impossible for angiekruger to get on tblurt with Irishred without becoming monstrously aroused.

    Must be nice to have that kind of effect on women, Craig. You'll have to explain it to me sometime.

     Anyway, the Thursday Blog Review is tomorrow so be sure and swing by. It'll be the last of the glowing ones for a while.

What Ingredients Are In A Cutie Pie

    So, how was everyone’s Valentines? Great, great. I was in a training class all day, however I did manage to complete a song about doin’ it, so I suppose that’s festive. Anyway, since I didn’t get to address the subject yesterday, I will discuss my romantic item today. That is pet names.

     How many of us have pet names for our significant others? Come on, fess up. Almost all of us do, don’t we? There’s the standard Darling, Baby, Honey, Love, Angel, Sweetheart and Precious. I’m sure we’ve all used one of those at one time or another. Maybe you’ve selected some word to be more specific for your loved one. Maybe you met them on the beach so they’re your Treasure now. Maybe they're Button because they’re “cute as a…”. It could even be something as simple as a shortened version of their own name that no one else uses. It just seems that there’s always something. It can be very nice to have someone to refer to this way and can be very, very nice being refered to.

     Still, sometimes it gets a little weird, like these people who have nonsensical names for each other. Their calling each other Coo Coo or Boobie or something else that always leads to humiliating baby talk. I’m sure we all remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry and his girlfriend kept calling each other “Schmoopie” and how dopey that was. I can see the appeal of having something all your own but, does it have to be something that makes you seem like you’re a Teletubie when you say it?

     What I understand even less is people calling each other food. Pumkin or Puddin’ is one thing but, Butterbean? Sweetpea? Peanut? I just don’t get it. I can’t see being in the middle of some intimate moment only to whisper, “Corncob”. It’s just weird.    

     I don’t know. Every girl I’ve ever had pet names for, it usually had to do with our intimate lives and it was usually something degrading. That being said, maybe my opinion isn’t really all that significant in this particular case. What’s your opinion?

Quiz Results

     Happy Valentines, everybody! I’ll probably post something else for the holiday later today, but first, let’s look at the answers to Friday’s contest.

1)    & nbsp; The first movie I ever saw was the Return of the Pink Panther.

FALSE- The first movie I ever saw was Disney’s Robin Hood.

2)    & nbsp; I took 2^nd place in a county sponsored farting contest.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;    FALSE

3)    & nbsp; My favorite movie is Raising Arizona.

    & nbsp;  TRUE

4)    & nbsp; I’ve played blue grass in a bar in Prague, Czech Republic.

TRUE- I asked my Czech friends if we could go hear some local music in a nightclub. They took me to a bar, which was literally a cave, and there was a bluegrass band from Alabama playing there. They let me sit in.

5)    & nbsp; I have a tattoo of a dragon dressed as a pimp on my butt.

FALSE- I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve never found anything I wanted on my body for the rest of my life.

6)    & nbsp; I have a hand gun. I keep it unloaded under my bed.

FALSE- Never owned a gun. Too afraid I’d use it.

7)    & nbsp; The last concert I saw was Joan Jett.

    & nbsp;  TRUE

8]      I used to work at Disney World.

TRUE- I don’t recommend it.

9)    & nbsp; I almost puked on Mojo Nixon.

TRUE- That’s what 15 one dollar shots of Jagger will get you.

10)  In college I danced naked on a table in the local bar wearing nothing but blue socks and a Frankenstein mask.

FALSE- All my socks are black and white.

11)  I’ve been smoking for twenty years. I started when I was 14.

    & nbsp;  TRUE

12)  I almost tripped over a live eagle once.

TRUE- I wasn’t watching where I was going. When I looked up, there, about five feet in front of me at about three feet tall, was an eagle. He’d killed a squirrel and was looking very intently at me as if to say, “Hey, man…what are you doing?” I almost pissed myself.

13)  I was a cub scout.

    & nbsp;  FALSE

14)  I once played the Lord of Boogie in a musical about disco.

    & nbsp;  FALSE

15)  I once played a transvestite bartender in a low budget movie. My line was, “Well, hello Sweet Nipples. Are you here to get milked or just juiced?”

TRUE

16)  I’ve encountered a ghost.

TRUE- I didn’t see but, I definitely heard it.

17)  I get real turned on by chics in bird costumes.

FALSE- My turn on’s are a much stranger than that.

18)  I once peed in my neighbor’s fridge.

FALSE- Not that I remember, anyway.

19)  Currently, I sort of resemble Eric Forman. Not Topher Grace…Eric Forman.

TRUE- Fun having a “real” job, isn’t it?

20)  I think the Catholic Church is evil.

TRUE- I have lots of Catholic friends who I think are good people but, Rome is the closest thing to Satan this planet knows.

21)  I’ve had sex dressed as George Washington.

FALSE- But, hey, I’m still young.

22)  I once organized the crucifixion of a hippie.

TRUE- Some dime store, smoke ring guru friend of mine who kept kidding around that he was the messiah…so we tied him to a cross and hung him up. That went over real well in rural Alabama.

23)  I used to get my hair cut at the same place Bobby Allison did. I met him when I was 12.

    & nbsp;  TRUE

24)  I used to be in a hip hop band. My stage name was Snap Dad Master Hootenanny.

FALSE

25)  My personal motto is “it takes a loose kinda’ goose to be the man with the juice!”

FALSE- My motto is “Rock out with yer cock out!”

     Seeing as how the only one who really made an attempt was Godsmack, I’m awarding her these coveted tbucks. I know the rest of you are running to a corner to cry.

Pop Quiz

     Hi ya’, everyone. For lack of better topics I thought I’d hold a little contest. The winner gets 1000 tbucks. Someone asked me yesterday what tbucks were good for and I was forced to say, “Nothing, if your site already looks and operates the way you want it to.” Of course, what good is a gold metal? And hey, you gotta win something, right. Anyway, this is true or false. Tell me what of the things I’m listing here are true about me and which are just some bullshit I made up.

1]     The first movie I ever saw was the Return of the Pink Panther.

2]     I took 2^nd place in a county sponsored farting contest.

3]    & nbsp; My favorite movie is Raising Arizona.

4]    & nbsp; I’ve played blue grass in a bar in Prague, Czech Republic.

5]    & nbsp; I have a tattoo of a dragon dressed as a pimp on my butt.

6]    & nbsp; I have a hand gun. I keep it unloaded under my bed.

7]    & nbsp; The last concert I saw was Joan Jett.

8]    & nbsp; I used to work at Disney World.

9]    & nbsp; I almost puked on Mojo Nixon.

10]  In college I danced naked on a table in the local bar wearing nothing but blue socks and a Frankenstein mask.

11]  I’ve been smoking for twenty years. I started when I was 14.

12]  I almost tripped over a live eagle once.

13]  I was a cub scout.

14]  I once played the Lord of Boogie in a musical about disco.

15]  I once played a transvestite bartender in a low budget movie. My line was, “Well, hello Sweet Nipples. Are you here to get milked or just juiced?”

16]  I’ve encountered a ghost.

17]  I get real turned on by chics in bird costumes.

18]  I once peed in my neighbor’s fridge.

19]  Currently, I sort of resemble Eric Forman. Not Topher Grace…Eric Forman.

20]  I think the Catholic Church is evil.

21]  I’ve had sex dressed as George Washington.

22]  I once organized the crucifixion of a hippie.

23]  I used to get my hair cut at the same place Bobby Allison did. I met him when I was 12.

24]  I used to be in a hip hop band. My stage name was Snap Dad Master Hootenanny.

25]  My personal motto is “It takes a loose kinda’ goose to be the man with the juice!”

    & nbsp; Alright, all yours. I’ll award the winner Monday. Until then, have a great weekend.

Thursday Blog Review

     Alright, Boys and Girls, get ready because it is time for the Thursday Blog Review.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   (Ins ert fanfare)

     Brought to you by our good friends at Ritz Cigarettes. Ritz, if you're gonna kill yourself, do it in style.

     Well folks, I've asked a lot about which blogs need reviewing and there are two names which have come up consistently. The most frequent of these, and the one we're going to be looking at this week, is the brainchild of a graduate student in history by the name of Craig. You all know him better however, as Irishred.

     The site, formally called Apples and Oranges and now called Seven Minutes To Wapner, is attractive and it's host is astute. tBlogging since 2003, this fan of Irish pubs and baseball takes the "no filler" philosophy to an extreme. His posts are remarkably short, yet always manage to illustrate complete and profound thoughts be they about politics, history, television, sociology, sports or whatever might cross his mind. When Irishred doesn't have anything specific to say he'll post news bits, song lyrics, historical facts or even make up complete bullshit. Even then it's all very direct and entertaining.

     Obviously intelligent, he engages his readers with both posts and comments and is also a daily regular on the front page chat window. He exhibits a good deal of charm, a scalding wit and good taste. He seems rather content with himself, exuding confidence and a laissez fare attitude toward other's opinions. Despite this he is one of the only bloggers I've seen who gets a plethora of opinions from others in the form of regular answers to the questions and surveys he posts. Politics is definitely his strong suit thus it's a bit of a shame that his entries broach this topic far less than they should. I loved his take on the most recent voting problems which stated, "We need to remain calm, make the best out of the system we have in place and stop trying to hinder the process."

     Occasionally, Irish does come off a little conservative. His concerns over things like the woman/boy pedophilia on Desperate Housewives seemed a bit uptight to me, although I did see his point. Things he's passionate about he stands by and he will call someone out when there behaving like an ass. Even when they aren't he seems to rarely, if ever, change his position on subjects that he has emotion invested in. However, he is an excellent debater and often sways readers his way.

     Some of his choices in entertainment leave a little to be desired. The fact that he watches Survivor and the twisted obsession he has with Ashley Judd are both pretty weird. Regardless, he writes good entertainment reviews in general and is aware that both Jag and Bon Jovi suck ass.

     By far the most enjoyable aspect of his site is his sense of humor. Sarcastic without being sardonic. Whether it's impersonating famous characters like Mr. Belvadere or Cap'n Kangaroo; relating stories about inducing diarrhea to get out of a date or promising great, motivating wisdom only to say he forgot what he was talking about, they're always good for a hardy, ironic laugh. Currently, he is developing a plan to gather all his unused tBucks to buy the State of Rhode Island and turn it into a nudist colony.

    & nbsp; Over all, I would say that Irishred is a good guy with strong values that people respect. His writing is solid. His mind is sharp. His wit is keen, not to mention the site looks really cool. I strongly recommend Seven Minutes to Wapner as a daily vitamin for each and everyone of you out there because we could all use a little more Irishred in us.

     Oh, and Ladies...he wears boxers.

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;  

Days Of Our Blog

     How is everyone today? Well, rested? Well, adjusted? Secure? Let's hope so. We had quite a soap opera yesterday. I know for me, it all started when Angie Kruger mentioned a new site to me under the title idiotsreaction. It's a rather abrasive blog devoted to nothing else but criticizing other blog sites and their authors and it doesn't really seem to pull any punches.

     At first, I kind of thought it was funny. I mean, I thought that this was someone employing an insult comic approach to get attention and traffic. Seemed to be working too. Others, however, did not feel the same way. Quite a few were getting pissed off and a couple of others were getting hurt. Since it was becoming the big topic of conversation I initially attributed it to the massive streak of high running emotions. Everyone seemed to be getting upset with each other. Everyone, myself included, seemed to be getting confused. I received countless t-mails yesterday, ALL from people who were upset with another blogger and ALL as a direct result of a massive break down in communication. Not having any other explanation I began to wonder if idiotsreaction wasn't to blame. Then, I went home.

     On the way I began to contemplate the problem. Surely it was just a rash of poor communication. Maybe people were pouring their hearts out and others were taken aback by the tender and blatant honesty. Maybe people were using exclamation points where periods were more appropriate or leaving out things like the ever popular "lol" when necessary. Maybe people were taking out personal problems on their fellow bloggers or bringing delicate conversations had with them outside the computer onto tBlog. Maybe this new site had genuinely managed to throw a cog in the spokes of our nice little community. Whatever the case, it went on to keep me awake last night. Then, when I should have been in a position to be woken up by loud noises, something unusual bellowed from the living room.

     My roommate is one of the kindest and most patient people I've ever met. I've NEVER heard the guy raise his voice. At one point last night, I was roused from my attempt at sleep by him screaming at his girlfriend over the phone, telling her, "I can't do everything for you! I'm sick of it!"

     Okay, somethings weird. It's not just me and the folks I talk to on-line that are behaving extra emotionally. It's also Tom, a person who never freaks out over anything yelling at a person that he's in love with. What is going on? Is there something in the stars? Is it the weather? Has the government, in conjunction with the Recticulans, begun some new secret warfare/mind control testing? What?

     The only conclusion that I came to, and this is what I told everybody who sent me personal messages yesterday, is that it's just a rash of lack of communication. There's no punctuation to express sarcasm so some times it and other shadings  gets lost in translation. People whose lives are currently changing are expressing their feelings to their friends and those feelings are occasionally a bit overwhelming to the parties involved. Personal problems with other individuals are getting taken out on those who don't deserve it. We all talk to each other one on one and in groups and like a chain reaction, it spreads. More confusion ensues and it just gets worse and worse. Tom's outburst was just a weird coincidence and the Recticulans have better things to do than experiment on tBlog, like control people with the hidden messages on American Idol.

     Hmm. Yeah, alright. I convinced myself. Yesterday was tough and I don't want to see it continue. A couple of jokes I made came back to haunt me but, worse than that are all the messages I got from you people, MY FRIENDS, who were confused and in pain. It literally did make it hard to sleep. I don't like it when the people that I care about are in pain and it's especially tough when that pain is the result of others you care about. Well, campers, I say lets all take a deep breath and just get the fuck over it. Maybe there was, in fact, something in the stars that was keeping us all a little off tilt. Whatever it was it's not worth bringing up at the family dinner table.

     Huh. I just read my horoscope. Get this: A new set of beliefs has inspired you to seek out new and interesting friends-individuals unlike anyone you've ever known. Think of them as kindred spirits-and know that this is just the beginning.

     I didn't make it up, I promise.

Oh, Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear

     Alright, show of hands, how many people had security blankets as a kid? Teddy bears? Everybody had something, right? I had something that my mother made out of one of those pre-fab patterns from Hancock Fabrics. You know, the cotton material with a picture on it that you sewed together and stuffed with foam. It was a fat, jolly little clown and, with all the creativity my toddler brain could muster, I named him...Clown.

     Clown was the most important thing to me in the world and I carried him way longer than was probably healthy. When other kids had been weened from their security blankets I was still snuggling up next to him every night. My mother patched him countless times and by the end of his life he was in rough shape. I still wouldn't let go. Not until the day my sister finally tore him up and traumatized me beyond belief.

     He was basically a pillow with a picture on it and after his demise I switched to a regular pillow for night time comfort. I'm slightly embarrassed to say that it's something I never really let go of and, to this day, at 34 years of age, I still wrap my arms around a spare pillow every night when I doze off.

    & nbsp; Once puberty hit, the pillow began to take on it's own identity. It became a fictitious female character who's identity changed off and on over time. Whenever I was single it would usually start looking, to my overactive imagination, like some Playmate in one of the magazines under my mattress. She would receive a name and a personality and for the next few weeks/months/years she would keep me company, keep me warm and keep me sane at night. She always looked perfect, behaved ideally and said all the things that I really wanted to hear. She was still my security. It got to the point where, even in relationships I would wake up in the morning with my lady friend nuzzled up against my back while I had my arms wrapped around my pillow. 

     Currently, she has a tendency to look like Annabelle Parillaud, the French actress who was in the original La Femme Nikita and that stupid vampire/gangster film Innocent Blood. Despite the actresses name and origin, the pillow's name is Audrey Price and she is a British entertainment manager. She spends half her time telling me to stop behaving irresponsibly and the other half telling me that she loves me and is glad I'm home. She occasionally takes on other identities, depending on my needs or fantasies, however the older I get the more she solidifies into one persona. At night this is where I find comfort these days and this is what still keeps the boogieman away.

     Okay, so is that weird? Well, of course it's weird. I guess what I mean is, is that unhealthy? I know that I have a great deal of difficulty letting go of things that bring me comfort and this may be why. But, is this the kind of thing that could be psychologically damaging to me? I tend to tell myself that it's harmless or just ignore it but there is still a part of me that thinks I may warping myself somehow. I try to treat this blog as therapy. That's basically the reason I started it. Normally I try and come to some conclusion in my posts or at least offer a hard theory, yet I'm finding it difficult this time. Maybe because I don't really want to let go.

     I don't know. What do you think?

Gloom, Despair and Agony On Me...

     Well, what a weekend. The big story: I did not get drunk this weekend. I intended to but, once I was out I just lost interest. Also, I'm really beginning to hate my friends.

     I invited about thirty people out with me to enjoy my last night of debauchery and five showed up. The rest didn't even bother to make an excuse. Now, many of my friends are married, with kids and have lives filled with responsibilities that make weekend insanity impossible. These are the people that I consider excused without say. Of coarse, two of those people did show up...and it was their anniversary! It was the younger, single, wild friends of mine who chose not to attend. I'm starting to think I need new ones.

    & nbsp; I did go out with my roommate, his girlfriend and two of my band mates. I even got to network with some of the club owners. That was good. I also was in the presence of countless beautiful, single women Saturday night and as a result...

     ...I did absolutely nothing.

     What's wrong with me? What happened to the wild Casanova that inhabited my skin in college? The one who could make a complete jackass out of himself and still sweep a girl off her feet? The one who didn't even have to make any effort to have girls fighting over him or to even be willing to share just to get a little taste? He's returned to the terrified nerd that he was in junior high school and the ladies are no longer impressed.

     It makes no sense. I'm a good looking guy. Oh, a bit wirey and small with some unattractive habits like smoking, swearing, dogmatism and a crappy diet but, nothing that's ever mattered in the past. Not only that, I have a great many things that are going for me. I have a decent job. I'm a talented songwriter and performer. I speak well and display education. I'm responsible AND fun. I have a lot going for me, much more than when I was going through women like socks. What changed? It has to be me. What?

     Obviously, I've gotten scared. If I really felt confident and really wanted to pursue my love life, I would be more proactive. The web dating was a bust because I never broke down and bought a digital camera to post a photo with. The singles my roommate introduced me to didn't work out because I instantly ruled them out for liking "preppy" boys. The women that were out Saturday night were intimidating because being single for so long has bred lack of confidence in me. That's not something I'm used to anymore and I don't really know how to deal with it.

     The last woman that I was genuinely interested in I spoke to for five minutes before going, "Give me your phone number, we're going out!" I didn't think twice.

     She was a bit stunned at first but, quickly smiled and got out a pen.

     Okay, so few of the women I encounter these days are really all that attractive to me. Just the same, when they are I should jump on the opportunity, right? I should introduce myself. I should find out their name. I should ask if they want to dance or talk or swap spit. I should do a lot of things that I used to do with no problem but, can't bring myself to do now to save my life. Why do I let these opportunities go by? Is it that I secretly want to be alone...or is it that I really have become afraid?

     Solitude I can cope with. Fear I can't.

     I complain about this an awful lot don't I? It must get real old for you folks, checking to see what I have to say each day, only to find that it's frequently the topic of how single I am. God, maybe I really am a loser.

     You know what? Fuck that. I'm just fine. It doesn't matter what my past was like. There's nothing wrong with being a little intimidated about making the first move. If there were we wouldn't have had to invent things like Sadie Hawkins Days. It's perfectly okay to bid my time and when the next one that I'm really interested in comes along, I'm sure I'll rise to the occasion, no pun intended. Why, I just went and checked my messages and I got a Valentine from one of my fellow bloggers!

     ...Of course, I then read one of her posts that said she really wanted someone else but figured too many other women would be after him. This led her to the decision that she should find someone that wasn't likely to have anyone int erested.

     Thanks a lot.    & nbsp;

     Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?

     Maybe I should become one of those guys who's addicted to porn. Hmm.

     Nah, what little I got is more than enough.

Archives Survived!!!!!!!!!

MY ARCHIVES ARE BACK! MY ARCHIVES ARE BACK! MY ARCHIVES ARE BACK! YES!!!! All that work I put into posting that play through out December wasn't wasted. It still exists!!!! Not to mention all the really early posts I put in. HA!

Special thanks to Rosietulips for mentioning it on her site. That's what led me to check mine.

Now, if you will all excuse me, it's after 5 pm and I will see you all Monday morning...probably VERY hung over. Bye.

...And His Battle Cry Came Forth,..."By Mennon!"

     What a rotten week. After the miserable working experiences, the hangover, the money mis-management and every other annoyance I woke up this morning determined that today was going to be different. Walking to work, on time and well rested I ignored the harsh cold, preferring instead to focus on positive things like the lack of traffic, the fact that the stop lights were all going my way, the fact that my hair wasn't cow licked or full of static. And then something began to clandestinely accost me. I was suddenly having trouble breathing, much more than my morning cigarette or the harsh weather could ever contribute to. What was it?

     As I continued, struggling for air the whole way, I gradually approached a much slower pedestrian in front of me. Each step closer I came seemed to increase my breathing difficulty. Suddenly, with a certain aroma in the air, I began to realize just what it was that was robbing me of my breath. This overdressed jackass in front of me had BATHED in Ol' Spice before leaving the house. He was wearing so much of the cologne that I was literally having trouble breathing in his wake.

     Just before I was about to loose consciousness I caught a break and the "Stink Machine" turned off toward the Education Building. As oxygen started working its way back through my system and I began to regain coherence it occurred to me that I should do something. This individual was a danger to himself and others and should be made aware of his problem. However, by the time I could distinguish direction and distance again, he was gone. All I could do was hope that someone helpful, with a strong tolerance for odor got to him before he suffocated too many of Alabama's future teachers.

     On a lighter note, I would like to thank all the folks who have recommended blog sites for review. It's nice to be directed to quality instead of having to frantically search for it all week. I can safely say that the next three weeks are booked up, two with positive reviews and one, I regret to say, with one that's wretchedly awful.  Regardless, keep the recommendations coming because I would prefer to always say "You gotta see this one," or "Avoid this at all costs," rather than "Eh, it's okay." Know what I mean?

     Also, angiekruger had the excellent idea of tBlog Valentines. Make sure you check out her post today concerning the subject.

Thursday Blog Review: Dangerkitty

     Man, that mullet post sure has drawn a lot of response. So that's what you people want to hear about, eh? Bad hair? Well, too bad because it's Thursday and that means...(insert fanfare) ...Thursday Blog Review. Today, we closely examine a young Jamaican woman, possessed of a sharp tongue, a bright smile and an unhealthy fascination with pop culture. Today's blog review is on Dangerkitty's Nat Blog.

     Ms. Dangerkitty is a refugee from M-Blog who we are very lucky to have here now. Insightful, creative, humorous, intelligent, positive...she's even kinda cute. Her posts are always a good read and definitely worth checking into regularly, something you can do using the link on the left side of the page.

     Among her site's traits are contests called "Who's Crotch Is This?" where she posts pictures of various celebrity's, yep, you got it, crotches. Whoever puts a handle with the handle gets t-bucks. You gotta love that. She also has an odd and reoccurring fascination with Tom Cruise, and not a kind one. Granted, I think the man is a talentless jackass myself but, Dangerkitty devotes quite a bit of blog space to expressing how repulsive she finds him. She has a strong devotion to television which I can definitely relate to. On Ms. Kitty's advice, I believe I will start watching Veronica Mars. Not only does she appreciate good drama but, also watches NOVA and the Discovery channel, other traits I find endearing.

     She seems to develop crushes at the drop of a hat which often results in a fun read. Then there are posts such as the one where she explains her desires for a carnival themed wedding. All of these entries are the perfect length, filled with nostalgic stories, pop culture reviews, fiction, poetry, mild news reports and the standard single's lament. She has an excellent sense of humor, a healthy ego, uses superb analogies and references and can make even the most mundane things (killing roaches, bad hair, misuse of umbrellas) into a fascinating read. This is one site that has a little bit of everything and it's author never appears to be just "filing up space".

    & nbsp;Another thing I can say about Dangerkitty's site is that it always has a rather positive feeling to it. You'll never click away from it feeling worse than when you pulled it up. In fact, reading through it was probably the highlight of yesterday for me. Her healthy ego is almost contagious and the cheer in her writing leaves a warm feeling right in your center. It is truly nice.

     Among her links is one to a site full of cartoons that she created. Those, I regret to say, aren't all that special but, it is nice to see someone using their blog for other creative pursuits. If she keeps up the work I'm sure that they can only improve as everything else she posts is really quality stuff.

     In short, if you haven't stumbled across Dangerkitty's particular neck of the woods then I recommend it. The pleasant atmosphere, the intellectual stimulation, the cute pictures, all make it something special that is really worth looking forward to. This invigorating young woman can't possibly have trouble finding anyone else to join her in the carnival themed wedding from where I'm sitting, at least, no one who's read her diary.

Blech

     So, last night I went to get that prescription filled for seizure medication. I wasn't happy to find that it was $91.00. I wasn't happy to find that the coupon for the pharmacy (the one the pharmacist said that they took) wasn't valid for prescriptions. However, what really pissed me off was the words in all caps right across the front of the bottle: DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL.

     This is medication I will have to take every day for the rest of my life. This means no more booze, ever. So what did I do? I went out and got snot slinging drunk. I was two hours late for work as a result. I feel like somebody wiped their butt with me. I probably should have taken one of my mandatory off days today but, there were things that I felt HAD to be done today. Why? Because I'm a dumb ass.

     If all this weren't bad enough, I plan on starting the medication Sunday so I can go out with friends and give myself alcohol poisoning one last time Saturday. And today has been HORRIBLE. Nothing has gone right. Speaking of which, I'm going to have to cut this short so I can get back to looking for a missing file.

In the wake of Ronnie Lee Keel...

     Well, if I only had a nickle for every time I've said it to myself, ...

     "...What have I gotten myself into?"

     This idea of reviewing other's sites wasn't a bad one but, it's taking a hell of a lot more work than I expected. I have spent all day yesterday and most of this morning seeking out and reading blog after blog after blog after blog. I'm beginning to get dizzy. The good news is I did find a couple of high quality ones to write up. Not to mention, I did locate a couple of really horrid ones to avoid. That'll come later, though.

     In other news, something came up on the little message window yesterday that, once again, concerns the ignorant nature of the south. Due to this conversation I feel the need to dispel an inaccurate notion about Alabama. That is, the current status of the mullet.

     Mullets are few and far between these days. I'd hazard to say that there are probably more in New York than in Birmingham strictly because of the density of population. As far as mullets being the token badge of the redneck however, this is no longer the case. These days, ladies and gentlemen, if you want to look like a redneck it takes a goatee. Don't believe me? Turn on CMTV some time. Count the mullets and then count the goatees. I guarantee that the results will reflect what I'm saying and hard.

     "But, Bobby Joe, " you whine, "goatees are the symbol of the X generation. We all got the idea from Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. Heck, I've still got mine!"

     Mullets started out as a major punk phenomenon. David Bowie's was the first I remember and it was intended to make him look like a Martian. ALL the hardcore, pick-up driving, PBR drinking, wife beating, gun toating, Arab-hating, Lynard Skynard worshiping red necks that I know have short hair in the back and a tiny, beatnik beard in front. Fellas if you still have one, then you look like a redneck.

     Now, don't get me wrong. That aint all bad. Maybe you want to look like a good ol' boy. Maybe those ZZ top CDs in your collection are more than just a Mississippi blues cap. Maybe your truck is your prize possession. Maybe you own a Geo Metro but, you just really like the way the goatee looks. Well...great. If that's what you want, go for it. There's not a damn thing wrong with it. But, if you have one of those econo-beards on your face and you make fun of people who listen to country music, live in the South or, in fact, have a mullet, then I have news for you...you're a hypocrite. Or you're in denial. At the very least, you have no fashion sense. Either, accept that you look like an extra in a Dixie Chicks video and be okay with it or cut the damn thing off.

     I don't create these facts, I'm just reporting them.