Proud as Proud Can Be!

This seen at a stop light yesterday morning:

That's right. It reads, "Proud Parent of a Vegetarian". A vegetarian? Uh-huh. Does being the parent of a vegetarian really deserve bumper sticker status? Is it up there on a par with your kid making the honor roll at school? It is up there on a par with your kid serving in the Army? Really?

Just another sure sign that we live in an "every kid's a winner, there are no losers" society. Why don't you just placard your bumper with a sticker that reads, "Proud parent of a child who is a trendy, ashen face waif that listens to way too much Pfish, and who will soon go off to college to explore alternative lifestyles, too."

Guess that's too much reality for a bumper sticker, huh?

Time to go mine the funny at humor-blogs.com.

O'Reilly & Stewart: TAKE IT ON THE ROAD!

Last week Bill O'Reilly showed up on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart. Now I am sure that - when he's not in front of a Fox News' camera - Bill-O is a nice enough guy. The sad thing is, though, is that he's paid to spew self-righteous invective, Republican party talking points and hawk his latest book...all at the same time. Watching him shout at the top of his lungs his hatred towards Massachusetts Representative Barney Frank made me wince. It's not that I especially like Frank...but it was a great indicator as to how far mature political discourse has fallen.

I guess that's entertainment!



It was an interesting half-hour. The two each were (in their own way) a bit more civil than I had expected. And they both - at times - respected the other's opinions. It got me thinking that it would be great for these two to stage a series of debates across the U.S. You know...kinda like in the laid-back, town hall format that some politicians favor. But with out all the B.S.

I know I'd pay to show up.

There's far too much fractionalizing still going on in the American political arena. In the end neither side is served by it...the real ones who benefit are those who's special interests are served. I long for a congress that is more bipartisan, and a president who holds a real mandate, not the George Bush kind. Sadly, those days don't happen much...I think you'd have to point to the immediate post-9/11 times to as the last time it happened. Do we really need such a terrible act to occur for our leaders - and press - to see and act like we're all Americans?

I know...you wanted to read something that was even remotely funny. Sorry, not today. Go check out humor-blogs.com for your chuckle fix.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...Summer.

Oh, where for art thou, Christmas?

While you're still five weeks away, the stores in San Luis Obispo are full of your decorative trappings. Nearly every parking lot light pole is festooned with green and red garland with bright, shiny bulbs. Even the airwaves are alive with the sounds of the holidays.

My son Thomas and I drove downtown yesterday, and we witnessed the sights and sounds of impending Christmas season nearly everywhere we went. We both found it hard to reconcile with reality. Perhaps it was because it was such a bright, sunny day. The temperature reached 90˚F. Or perhaps it was watching the folks downtown stroll about in shorts, bikini tops and sandals.

I dunno. This time of year usually has me missing snow. Or, barring that, at least temperatures that have people wearing long pants and jackets. Thom and I listened to Bing Crosby croon, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" on the radio.

Not here it isn't.

Perhaps it's snowing over at humor-blogs.com? You'll never know unless you go check it out!

Parked Potted Putting Person.

This was the view as I walked out my front door to get the newspaper. Notice anything? That's right...a car. A faded light blue Honda Prelude is parked in front of my house. And it didn't just get there this morning. It's been sitting there since 10am yesterday morning.

There were a lot of other cars parked next to it for most of Saturday afternoon. You see, we live less than 400 yards from the San Luis Obispo Country Club, and this weekend they play host to the 12th annual Straight Down Clothing Fall Classic. It's a pro-am tournament. I even hear that Freddie Couples was out there.

Now I love golf. I've been fortunate enough to play on some of the best links between Pebble Beach and Scotland. Every now and then I'll watch a tournament on TV. That usually means I'm visiting my parents in Atlanta, watching it with my dad. But, with the exception of The Masters, I've never had much interest in watching a golf tournament in person. Too much walking, too little to see. You're better off watching it on the big screen in the comfort of your living room. And that folding money you would have spent on tickets, gas and over-priced lukewarm Budweiser and stale hot dogs can buy a fella a whole lotta liquid libation.

Speaking of libations, I couldn't help but wonder: why did the driver of this car see fit to leave his auto overnight? Could he/she have hooked up at the tournament? "Hey! You're a John Daly fan?! Me too! Let's get it on!!" Perhaps...but I've got my doubts.

No. In all likelihood this driver got too drunk to drive. Too drunk to drive by watching golf. Say...maybe he/she is a John Daly fan!

Do people really get too drunk to watch golf? Is this typical? I can understand people getting drunk watching NASCAR. If you see me in the stands at Talladega, you can bet your ass that half my body weight will consist of Jack Daniels.

Tanked at the tournament. Drunk watching duffers. Potted viewing putting. Now that's a spectator sport I'd pay to see.

And would I pay for you to now check out humor-blogs.com? Not likely...but you never know.

Paradise or Cesspool?

So there I was - again! - listening to my XM satellite radio, when my attention was piqued by one of their commercials. This time they were shilling for Branson. As in Branson, Missouri. Time was Branson was a place where old nobody's who were too sedentary to live the life of a dinner theater vagabond went to die.

Not any more...if you're to believe the commercial I listened to. Branson is now the 'vacation capitol of the world". And don't just take their word for it...this statement has been vouchsafed by no finer a publication than BQ Magazine!

That naturally got me thinking...who or what in the hell is a BQ Magazine?

I was betting on it being "Branson Quarterly", but nooooo. There's no such a publication...at least according to my exhaustive internet search. From the results of this search I've whittled the possibilities down to four. And here they are:

The British publication, Business Quarter. Now to be fair, the Brits have been known to think Benny Hill is funny. They also think that the rocky shores of Bristol are on a par with - say - the a sandy stretch on Maui. So you know they're not always to be trusted as the arbiters of good taste. But I'm betting this is not the BQ Magazine that touted Branson.

Then there's a magazine known as Boomerang Quarterly. Holy Crap. You mean to tell me that there's a regular publication dedicated to the needs of boomerang enthusiasts?!? What a waste of time. But, come to think of it, so is throwing a boomerang.

Nope, this couldn't be the magazine I was searching for. The only boomerang action you're apt to find in Branson, Missouri is when you partake of the $8, all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Like a boomerang, it's bound to come right back into your lap.

I found this Las Vegas-based BQ Magazine, too. It's for fans of the hip-hop scene. If faced to spend an hour leafing through these pages I'm thinking that Boomerang Quarterly would looking pretty good.

Naw. Too many rednecks in Branson. Too much love of fried cheese curds and Willie Nelson for this magazine to gush over the city.

I finally determined that the BQ Magazine talked about in the commercial just had to be this one. Beauty Queen Magazine. I imagine a lot of beauty pageants are held in Branson. It used to be that Miami Beach had these type of events locked up. But with Burt Parks now dead and gang-bangers running amok, Branson looks a whole lot safer than Miami.

So it would seem that the folks extolling the virtues of a Branson vacation want you to put your trust not in their commercial...but instead perpetually perky, smiling girls big on cup size but short on smarts. They know where the fun is...and it's to be had in Branson!

Now don't get me wrong. Branson, Missouri is a pretty exciting place. I've been there myself. It offers visitors with a whole heckuva lot to see and do. Why, just take a peek at some of the photos I took on my trip there:

Every window in the hotel I stayed at had its own breathtaking view!
It was especially breathtaking when the wind was in my face.

The hotel boasted some of the most modern amenities like this
outdoor pool/bathtub. This guy's name is Clem, and he's the owner.
He offered to loofah my back for me.

The state bird sure is easy to find...they're everywhere. Especially on you.

And all the friendly locals I met sure were colorful.
It helps if your favorite color happens to be red.

So, if you're planning that next great getaway, forget about Frankfurt. Adios, Antibes! Bon Voyage, Britain! Do what all smart-thinking beauty queens do...head to Branson, Missouri!

But, before you do, pack your bags and head right now to humor-blogs.com!

The Fathers of Invention.

So there I was, driving in my car yesterday, listing to my XM satellite radio. When the occasional commercial comes on, I usually surf to another station, or just tune myself out of the noise. I was doing the later when my subconscious picked up on the tone of one commercial. Perhaps it was the background music, maybe the voice. Naw...it was the content.

The commercial featured a distraught young woman who was trying to determine who her father was. Turns out that the fine folks behind this commercial - Identigene - had just the answer...in an in-home DNA testing kit that could solve the young lady's dilemma, and determine her paternity.

First we had the in-home pregnancy test. By peeing on a stick, women could instantly find out if they were going to be visited by the stork. Now medical science has gone one better! For only $30 you can pop into the store and buy a kit that contains three swabs...one for you, one for your mom and one for the alleged daddy. Simply obtain mouth cultures with the swabs (how I'd love to be a fly on the wall watching that), have all concerned sign the consent forms (provided), and send it back to their lab...oh, and with a check for $120 for processing.

Thank you, Identigene!

And you bet the folks at Identigene back up their product. Well, they will. Just cough up another $250 more if you want them to stand behind their product in cases of child support, divorce, and the like.

Don't you just love technology?

And don't you just get a chuckle out of the knuckleheads at humor-blogs.com?

The Idea For Which I Make Millions, Part I

Like all good Americans, I succeed by the sweat of my brow. I am in possession of an entrepreneurial spirit equaled by the likes of Pullman, Astor, Bell and Edison. Relentless in my search for the next opportunity for riches to strike me like a lightning bolt, I'm always thinking.

Throughout my life - and the life of this blog - I've explored those get rich quick schemes, like the time I confessed my desire to make millions inventing names for college bands. Sadly, such dreams of glory have remained just that...dreams.

But now I think I'm on the cusp of Great Things. When I introduce my new confectionary gadget, the Pope-Pez™!

Think of it! It's candy! It's religion! Two great treats in one! Simply cock back the head of your Pope-Pez™ and get ready to receive absolution - and minty fresh breath - all in one!

And the possibilities are nearly endless. You can create a different Pope-Pez™ for every Pope. Collect all 265...from Saint Peter to Pope Benedict XVI! And it doesn't end there. We can make a different candy for different sins. Need to cover an adultery? Spearmint should take care of that. Using the Big Man's name in vain again? Sounds like you need a licorice-flavored treat. Murder someone lately? Well, friend, you need to pony up for a six-pack.

All I need for this brainchild is some money. About an even million should do it. Any backers out there?

Stop wasting time...go check out humor-blogs.com.

Monday Morning Mystery.

Two months ago, Amie and I bought a new coffeemaker. It's a Krups...from Germany. And as anybody who's used a Shamwow knows, the Germans make great things.

All in all, I like my Krups' coffeemaker. That is except for the fact that the lip of the carafe has been purposefully designed to ensure coffee dribbles down its sides regardless of pouring angle. But it really is an amazing machine. It percolates my coffee just fine, makes pretty decent espresso, and - the most amazing thing of all - it performs a magic trick every time I use it!

Every morning I fill the carafe with water, up to the 10-cup line, and pour it into the Krups' machine. After adding the coffee, I press the 'start' button, and off it goes. The 'magic' is in the fact that somewhere in the system I always lose water. Quite a bit of water, actually...like two to three cups worth.

Where does the water go?


Now I can appreciate the fact that some of the water is absorbed by the coffee grounds. But three cups worth? Doesn't seem likely. Besides, I've inspected the grounds afterwards, and while they're certainly wet, they're not liquid.

To compensate for this little mystery, I find myself having to add one and a quarter carafe of water to the system just to brew a full pot.

Where does the water go?

The machine doesn't leak...I've checked for that. Somewhere, somehow my little Krups machine is retaining water. And I can figure out how or why.

It's the little mysteries in life that get me.

Humor-blogs.com is more stimulating than a pot of coffee!

Paging Miss Vernette...Again!

Those long-time followers of this blog may recall that I posted (which may be viewed here) about the striking similarity that Tiger Woods has to a one-hit wonder, movie starlette Tevaite Vernette.

That one post caused an avalanche of traffic to my blogsite...which I posted about here.

Having a few minutes to spare this morning, I checked out the traffic statistics to my site. All I can say is "WOW!" There are thousands of you out there who still have the hots for our little miss Vernette! Every listing of the top ten searches that lead folks to my blog have to do with Tevaite Vernette. And these searches come from as far away as the Ukraine, the UK and Poland.

I'm sorely tempted to rename my blog "Tevaite Vernette". Either that or prepare a screenplay I'll call, "The Bounty 2: Full Frontal Tevaite Vernette." It's sure to play big. At least in the European market.

And big laughs can be yours in the humor-blogs market!

The Show That Launched a Thousand Turds.

I've received a number of emails from those who feel that My Mother the Car - while bad television - is not even in the running for worst TV show ever. Some of you offered up your own suggestions as on shows you feel take those honors. One such email mentioned the spin-off show, Mrs. Columbo, as perhaps the biggest stinker to ever grace the boob-tube. True, this late-seventies whodunit staring Kate Mulgrew was truly terrible, but for my money, it doesn't rank amongst the truly rank.

But this email mention of Mrs. Columbo got me thinking: what one television show has been responsible for spinning off the most crap? Certainly Happy Days comes to mind. Anything staring Erin Moran is bound to suck. For my money, though, the largest pile of televised crap came from one of the most-popular series ever, M*A*S*H. While for the most part a very good sitcom, M*A*S*H serves as the ultimate proof that once Hollywood has a successful vehicle, you can bet your sweet bippy that they're gonna milk that cow until the teats offer up nothing but air. And then they'll try to sell the air!

All told, M*A*S*H offered up a total of five spin-offs, and with the exception of one (okay, maybe two), they all well and truly bombed. You doubt this assertation? Then read on, friend:

In 1975 Filmation Cartoon Studios wanted to get in on the M*A*S*H franchise, and offered up a Saturday morning kid's show called M*U*S*H. The show was a dog...literally. Cartoon dogs based in an army hospital in the great white north, this show featured characters like "Coldlips", "Colonel Flake", and "Major Sideburns". Ugh. Kids should have never been subjected to this crap.

What could be better than a television sitcom about an Army field hospital in the Korean War? How about a series about Nurses - with breasts - stationed in an Army field hospital in the Korean War! So it was that on January 16, 1978 CBS aired the pilot for The Fighting Nightingales. As if to underscore that viewers would get a lot of T&A with their jokes, studio execs cast Adrienne Barbeau in the lead role of Major Kate Steele! The review in Variety had it right when it wrote, "Unimpressive...one long yawn."


From 1979 until 1986 CBS ran a show called Trapper John, MD. While based upon the M*A*S*H character of the same name, there wasn't really any overlap. As a matter of fact, it was only in the pilot that another M*A*S*H character (Hawkeye) is mentioned. The show ran for 151 episodes. A lot of people liked this show. I was not one of them.

When it was collectively decided by cast and crew that it was time to pull the plug on M*A*S*H, there were four actors who would not go silently in to that good night. Harry Morgan (Col. Potter), Gary Burghoff (Radar O'Reilly), William Christopher (Father Mulcahy) and Jaime Farr (Max Klinger) decided that there was still gold to be mined in them thar hills, hence the television show, AfterMASH. It ran on CBS from 1983 until 1985. The fact that it ran for 30 episodes is proof that enough viewers believed in fool's gold.

1984 saw yet another troll in the M*A*S*H waters, this time with a pilot vehicle for Gary Burghoff, aka Walter "Radar" O'Reilly. Luckily for us, CBS never picked up the series...but did see fit to broadcast this pilot once as a 'Special Presentation'. Luckier still were those viewers fortunate enough to live on the west coast...where W*A*L*T*E*R was preempted by the Democratic National Convention. I'm sure that viewers their found Walter Mondale a helluva lot more funny than W*A*L*T*E*R.

Talk about a crap fest. Am I missing one? If so, please let me know.

And don't you miss out on humor-blogs.com!

Reverse Personification.

I sit here this morning remembering one of the worst television shows ever foisted upon America. Of course I'm talking about ABC's moronic 70s sit-com, My Mother the Car. Every one involved with it should be ashamed. Well, perhaps not Jerry Van Dyke. He's used to portraying a moron.

And just why am I thinking of My Mother the Car? Because I've happened upon a great sequel to this forgotten stinker: My Dog the Alarm Clock.

The nights here in San Luis Obispo have gotten chilly. It's almost like Fall in the Southeast. The skies are bright and clear, but there's a definate crisp, coolness. I say it's almost like Fall in the Southeast, because - as we all know - California doesn't have the smell of burning leaves, nor the Fall foliage colors. That, and - oh, yes - it doesn't have great college football.

With evenings being as cold as they've been, we've allowed our dog, VIVI, to sleep in our bedroom, as opposed to her usual nighttime haunt, the laundry room. She's really enjoyed the company...not to mention the carpeted floors. Unfortuantely, though, VIVI seems to think it perfectly normal to wake up a good hour before Amie and I rise and shine.

All would be fine if she allowed us our slumber. But, no, she sees fit to pull herself up towards our bed, place her face directly in front of me, and start a series of muffled barks. At least she tries to be quiet with her plaintive behavior...after all, she wouldn't want to wake up the kids.

So it is that I have found myself with an extra hour every morning. It gives me ample opportunity to read the paper, put on coffee, and think about some lousy sitcom that's over 30 years old.

My Dog the Alarm Clock.

Oh, by the way...Obama won!

Now if you would, please go check out humor-blogs.com.

Auto Erotica.

Last night as I sat watching Monday Night Football with my father-in-law, we happened upon the subject of cars. Guess it was all those Chevy commercials. For no particular reason I asked him, "If you could have one car - and money was no object - what would it be?" He quickly responded that he'd go with a 1956 Thunderbird. Nice choice.

He asked me for my choice, and I was honestly stumped. After giving the matter some thought, I confessed that, "I'd have to go the 'Elvis Route', and have a seven-car garage...that way I could have a different car for every day of the week."

Today just so happens to be my birthday (as well of that as my wife, Amie, and my twin sister, Jennifer), so I thought I'd share with you my choices for my top seven cars. And here they are:

#7:
1988 TOYOTA LAND CRUISER

I can't explain why, but I've always thought this model Land Cruiser was an exceptionally sharp-looking SUV. Similar in many ways to the old, 'safari' style Land Rovers, but without the penchant for being English (read: breaking down all of the time). They're also a bit more comfortable. I know...they're a bit underpowered, but, still, I like 'em.

#6:
1960 CHRYSLER IMPERIAL CONVERTIBLE

This is, to me, the epitome of American automotive excess. Enough steel and chrome from which to fashion four Japanese cars, big fins, and sixties styling. This would be my weekend driver with the family.

#5:
1954 MERCEDES-BENZ SL300 "GULLWING"

For those nights when it's just Amie and me, I'd prefer this breathtaking beauty. Everything about this car screams class. And timelessness. Of course, this would probably be Amie's pick for her daily driver.

#4:
1965 CHEVROLET CORVAIR MONZA CONVERTIBLE

See a pattern developing? Sixties? Convertible? I'll admit it...I'm a child of my generation. This would probably end up being my daily driver. Economical, stylish, easy to repair. Ralph 'unsafe in any election' Nader mistakenly identified the Corvair as 'unsafe at any speed'. Idiot. I think old Ralphie knows as much about cars as he does politics.

#3:
1985 ASTON MARTIN VOLANTE CONVERTIBLE

While the British have a notorious, historical problem with producing cars that are reliable, I do have a soft spot for British styling. This would be my go-to car when I was in a sporty, cocksure mood. Good thing for me that those moods don't happen often...because this sucker's probably going to spend more time in the shop than on the road. But it is a cool car, ain't it?

#2:
1936 CORD CONVERTIBLE COUPE

Years ahead of its time, this car was released the same year that my parents were born. Streamlined perfection.

#1:
THE BATMOBILE!

I am a child of the sixties. And, as my wife will attest, I'm still a child at heart. I fell in love with this car the first time I saw it on TV. This is the ultimate car for those seeking 'coolness factor'. I would love to surprise my boys by picking them up for school in this baby. Sadly, there are only two seats. Not very practical, I'll grant you. But it would be a great ride! And, no, I have no penchant for wearing tights and a cape behind the wheel of this car.

So that's it...my choices for the top seven cars that I'd want in my garage. Should you find yourself thinking, "I wonder what I should get Mat for his birthday?" think no more. I'd happily settle for one of these. Good thing I'm not picky, huh?

And it'd be a good thing for you to now check out humor-blogs.com.

Paradigm Shift.

Last night my boys asked me, "What's for dinner, dad?" I cheerily responded, "Spaghetti with meatballs". My youngest son, Thomas scrunched up his nose, and said, "Yuk! Can't we please have something else?"

Now, there are times when my upbringing elicits a Pavlovian response, and certain phrases are sure to trigger one. For instance, when someone says, "I'm done with X..." I always am quick to say, "Cakes are done, people are finished." Or, if you were to ask me to "drive straight ahead", I'll say, "you mean forward, not straight."* I blame my parents for this.

So it is that when one of my boys complain about the food about to be served them, I almost immediately respond:

"You should be happy. There are starving kids in China who would love your meal."

I used this retort on Thomas, but his older brother, Jack, was quick to correct me. "Dad," he said, "most people in China are now rich. They can afford better food these days." This from a nine year-0ld.

The times they are a-changing. Guess it's time to pick on a new, malnourished, underprivilaged country. Better make a call to Sally Struthers.

And you better make a call now to humor-blogs.com.

*I know. It's amazing to me too that I haven't been beat up after uttering these corrections. Guess it's good that I'm 6'4" and 270 pounds, huh?

The Definition of Smarmy.

smär-mē

adjective

Etymology:
smarm to gush, slobber

1 : revealing or marked by a smug, ingratiating, or false
earnestness smarmy self-satisfaction.

2 : of low sleazy taste or quality.

Now you can call me 'prissy' or 'priggish'. Go ahead. But do we really need a gum-smacking, wink and nod, good at the one liners yet poor at extemporaneous thought hockey mom to be one heartbeat away from the presidency? Especially when the likes of Christine Todd Whitman were available?

I don't think so.

The problem with political jokes is they get elected.
Henry Cate VII

You may fool all the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all the time.
Abraham Lincoln

Democracy is a device that ensures that we shall be governed no better than we deserve.
George Bernard Shaw

The sad truth is that we do get the politicians we deserve.

Now go get the funny that YOU deserve at humor-blogs.com.

Praise The Baby!

i·co·nog·ra·phy
n. pl. i·co·nog·ra·phies

1.
a. Pictorial illustration of a subject.

b. The collected representations illustrating a subject.

2. A set of specified or traditional symbolic forms associated with the subject or theme of a stylized work of art.
3. The images and symbolic representations that are traditionally associated with a person or a subject; "religious iconography".

Saw this in a public restroom. No doubt it's religious in origin...more than likely dealing with the need to praise your baby as you prepare to take a dump.

I'm working on a humor-blogs icon, but - until I do - this link will have to do: HERE.

Passion Wagon.

Like a lot of Americans, I am not content with simply being passionate about something...I've got to let everyone know. And, like most Americans, I accomplish this by adorning my car with symbols of my passions, thus:

Everyone who passes my car knows that I love the Georgia Bulldogs and Ireland, right? It's there for all to see...and it's fairly subtle, right? Well, for some fanatics understatement is not to be found swimming in their gene pool. They need to make a BIG statement.

Take, for instance, this GMC van I spotted in a Phoenix parking lot. Nearly every square inch of this vehicle screamed, "I LOVE BETTY BOOP!"

Uh-huh. "Betty Boop" stickers on every door and window, "Betty Boop" emblazoned across the windshield, "Betty Boop" license plate...even "Betty Boop" on the horns mounted to the hood. I've no doubt that these horns bleat out, "Boop, oop, ee-doop!" when they're played.

Never saw the driver...but I'm imagining it's a grey-haired grandma. If it's not then someone is in need of serious psychiatric counseling!

And take my counseling...go now and check out humor-blogs.com.

My Dream Job, Vol. 1.

I often hear from friends that I've got a "dream job". Sure, making and selling wine can be a whole lot of fun, but it can often be just a job. That got me thinking: what would be my idea of a "dream job"?

I've often thought that it'd be fun to make a living creating names for college bands. Okay, so there's no such job out there, and - even if there were - it surely wouldn't pay squat. But, hey, it's a dream job, right? If I can dream up the job, then surely I'm allowed to dream up my salary, right? On the off-chance that there is indeed such a job position out there, let me just say that I'd be a shoe-in for the job. And if you just so happen to be that the person in charge of hiring for this job, consider this my resumé.

When it comes to crafting names for college bands, you're pretty much looking at three veins that you can mine. First, there are those names which somewhat oxymoronic in nature. The first half of the name is somewhat contradictory to the last half. For instance:

• The Screaming Mimes
• Laid-Low Erectors
• Skinflint Spendthrifts
• Primal Yawn
  
• Snickering Stoics

Then there's the other path I'll call the "Popular Culture" route. That's when you use references and/or names from literature, movies or television...some well-known, but most are vague. My choices in this category would include:

• Come Back, Shane!
• Merkin Muffly
• The Bethlehem Slouchers
• Adam West Wannabes
• His Boy Elroy
• How High the Moon

And then there are those hailing from a third category which I'll file under "Miscellany". They very often only make sense to the band members themselves, and can be so vague as to lead most to believe there was a lot of alcohol (or some other stimulant) involved. Hence:

• Too Many Todds
• Percolated Youth
• Misspent Fuzz
• Rickshaw Killers
• Prehistoric Misanthropes
• Drive-by Dustbunnies
• Must Love Porkchops
• Wide-Eyed Latin Orphans
• Two-bit Carnies

Yeah, I could see myself raking in the big-time dough with a job like this!

Anyone know where I could submit my application?

And I'd like to submit that you'd have a few laughs by checking out humor-blogs.com.

One Grand Hotel.

Where has the time gone?

Lately, my time has gone into working the Arizona market. I love Arizona. It's got world-class restaurants, world-class people, and - this time of year - a world-class definition of the phrase "but it's a dry heat".

This Tuesday I was in Jerome, Arizona...a small town located just outside of Sedona. Perched about a mile high on the side of a mountain, Jerome affords stunning views of the Verde Valley...especially if you're looking out from the windows of the Jerome Grand Hotel. Driving up from Sedona into this town I couldn't help but feel that Jerome has more in common with a rustic town in the Northern Rhône Valley than with Arizona. Closely-grouped old buildings, switch-back, narrow roads, breathtaking views.

I easily fell in love with Jerome, and you can bet I'll get back here soon...and often. And hopefully in the company of my wife, Amie.

You know there's at least one other guy who loves Jerome, too: John McCain. He spends a lot of time here when he's "home", and I can appreciate why. His favorite restaurant is - The Asylum - is located just inside the hotel. I was the guest at a wonderful wine dinner here Tuesday night. Trust me...the food (and the setting) are worth the trip.

Sitting at the table with fellow diners, the evening's discussion swayed towards the upcoming presidential election. Given that this place could very well become the new "Western White House", the locals had plenty to say.


It was during this discussion that the only unsettling part of my stay in Jerome came to pass. I was informed by the owners of The Asylum that the very chair I was sitting in was recently occupied by none other than Mitt Romney.

Eeeeeew. I guess that would explain why I was suddenly overcome with a desire to get ahold of $40 million and flush it down the toilet!

And before you flush, go check out humor-blogs.com.

Taking 'em to The Woodshed.

I've no excuse for my pitiful lack of posts these past few weeks. It seems that life has been getting in the way. Our winery move from Paso Robles to San Luis Obispo is nearly complete (one more truckload to go!), and Amie and I have nearly unpacked every moving box in our new home. It feels great to be nearly moved in!

The one sour note in our new home has been with our television service. We utilized DishTV service in our old home, and I was fairly pleased with it. I was pleased enough that, when we moved, I decided to transfer the service to our new home. When the technician came to hook us up, he had some bad news: the only place he could locate the dish antenna was directly in front of the screen door leading out onto the porch.

Nixing that idea, I called Charter Communications, who informed me that they could hook up TV service the very next day. I specifically asked the Charter rep if they offered ESPN's "Gameplan" package...it being college football season, and I need to watch my Bulldogs. The rep said, "of course", so I quickly signed on.

Long story short? She lied. It would appear that I am one of 15% of the nation who cannot get this package. What a pisser.

So it was that I spent four hours yesterday in my home office, logged onto the computer, watching the Georgia/Central Michigan game on ESPN's "360". I was frankly amazed at the quality of the feed and the resolution. It was almost as good as watching it on my big screen TV, but not quite.

If you haven't heard, Georgia beat the Chippewas like they owned them: 56 to 17. The game featured great performances by Matt Stafford, Mohammad Massaquoi, Asher Allen, and - of course - Knowshon Moreno. In a 3rd quarter effort to pump up his tiring team, Knowshon actually hurdled one of the defensive players!

I had the pleasure of attending UGA during the 'salad days' of Herschel Walker et al. Hershel was an amazing player...but he was the kind of player who'd put his head down and plow into/through you. Moreno on the other hand will spin, juke, and hurdle around/over you. He's an amazing talent to watch. While Herschel was a Mack truck, Knowshon is a Porsche.


Watching the game also allowed my family and I to get a better look at UGA VII, Georgia's new mascot. There's definitely a family resemblence between UGA and his sister, our beloved Dawg, VIVI. The boys are sure excited to meet UGA next month when we go back 'between the hedges' for the Georgia/Tennessee game!

I promise to catch up on my posts soon. Thanks for droppin' by!

And I'd appreciate you droppin' by to check out humor-blogs.com now. Thanks!