Friday, September 7, 2012

A Picture Says A Whole Bunch of Words.

No, I don't understand this sign. I understand it's about a picnic, that much I've got. It's in my neighborhood, though, so I might pop over just to see what the phrase "I Smokiem Waweskim" really means, because in English, it's funny as hell. Kind of like "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

I threatened to wear this to the church picnic Sunday, during which my band is playing. A friend quadruple-dog-dared me. Hey, chickie babies, I'm all for it. But you wouldn't catch me dead playing with Pro-Mark sticks. I'm a strict Vic Firther. And no, I don't play PINK drums. [eye roll]

Yes, as a matter of fact, I found this utterly hysterical. I think my new favorite phrase is "Cruci-fuckin'-Around." It's tacky to the gills, but no less humorous. Strict Fundamentalists who oppose gayness in all of its forms seem to forget one little smidgy detail about what Jesus said in the New Testament, paraphrased: "I have a NEW COMMANDMENT: LOVE ONE ANOTHER." (John 13:34) Jesus, refuting the archaic laws of the Old Testament, didn't put a condition on who-loves-whom-and-why. (Read: He never said "boo" about men loving men or women loving women. Sorry, Rabid Fundamentalists.) 

Fuck yeah. I totally love this guy.

The question isn't "Did I do this to Luke?" It's "Would I do this to Luke?" Answered simply? Of course I would! My son has indiscriminate taste when it comes to food, loves onions, so it'd be a total win. It's the other kids I'd laugh at, not mine.

If you're going to consider yourself a progressive American, and you choose to inflict your opinions upon the masses, for the love of Christ, would you PLEASE learn how to fucking SPELL? Sometimes I wish the term "Grammar Nazi" had more realistic practicality.

The Reds had an old coot talking to an empty chair. Millions of more evolved Blue Americans had William Jefferson Clinton, who, if this country allowed multiple-term presidents, would still be in office and we'd all be happy AND gay.

Because I don't have enough academic reading to do, NOT, I bought another leisure book. Why? Because my packed-to-the-gills shelf of half-read leisure books was missing something. This is perhaps the only major Russian novel I haven't read, and I love me some serious Tolstoy. Ordered this version from Amazon, and while realizing that it was over 1,000 pages long, didn't quite expect it to clock in at 1,386 pages in a 4 POINT FONT. My desperate need for bifocals just intensified 1,386 times. How long did it take Kate to read War & Peace? Three years. How long will it take me? Until I'm on Social Security. Hey, it's either read or go out on a date. My second attempt at virginity is more looming than Christ's second coming, no pun intended.

Though no longer topical for me personally, I have to start employing this line when I encounter crotchety women:

He'll get it eventually. It just takes a lot of practice and finding your natural rhythm, which as of yet he hasn't. It's either he learn the skins or re-string his electric guitar, get a new practice amp and take some lessons, kiddo. Admittedly, he was trying the Rogers kit out without me having raised the cymbals and setting up properly, but it's oh-so-fun to toy around. Children never cease to amaze me with their fascination with the drums. Nobody, after the service, walks up and fucks with the guitars. Or the piano. But every child under 18 (and some grown men in the congregation) flocks to the front of the church as I'm trying to break down my gear, liberally picks up my sticks and begins to tinker with my kit. Unless it's Luke, and I've sanctioned said playing, kids? I know you're curious. And drums are fun. But don't dick around with my thousands of dollars worth of awesome. I'm terribly picky.

Social media has turned everyone into Aristotle with a whisper of Frost, the vision of Chagall, intermixed with a whack of Lester Bangs. Thus, everyone's an armchair expert on something. But unless you can back up your shit, give it up.

An email just surfaced from the First Lady. Wowzers, I had no idea I had such profound an impact on the POTUS and FLOTUS. 

"Andrea, thank you for an amazing week.

Barack and I felt your energy up there."

Oh, anytime, Michelle. No, I can't send you any more money.
Smooches, Annie

No comments: