This morning while driving I had a very unpleasant flashback thanks to a local DJ. Of all of the songs that he could have played he chose “What’s Going On?” by the 4 Non-Blondes.

This was not a good song that got old, this was a bad song that got worse. It begins with the listener being lured in by the power of the lead singers voice and then the trap snaps shut behind you and you’re unable to escape. Fuck! Let me out! But like a victim in a horror movie there’s no escape unless you were the one cast to survive. Most of us weren’t. The horror grew words when it became a hit song. Why couldn’t I have been one of the people to die early?

As a big fan of classic rock this song doesn’t qualify to be played on a rock station. It’s not classic rock, nor classic punk, it’s not even classic grunge or alternative, (whatever that means) this song is classic shit performed by four hideously ugly women, one of women I realized upon suffering through the video years ago is a man. (Good job getting neutered there slick.) The band itself broke up a year after the song was released doing all of us a gigantic favor. Gone and with luck and a lot of alcohol soon completely forgotten. As for the DJ who steered me down memory lane and into nightmare alley, fuck you. I don’t know what you get for doing shit like this but you should get life.

I’m starting this post with nothing to write about so I’m just taking up space. I’m certain that’s how some radio talk show hosts feel some days. I was going to write about Erica Thomas and her fake racial hoax but I’ve decided she’s not worth the trouble today. Tune in tomorrow I’ll probably have something to say about it then.

Went to the mailbox and found my electric bill. $85.24. How did that happen when there’s only one person living here? If my girlfriend was staying with me I’d expect this in the water bill. (She spends three hours in the bathroom every morning).

Damn I really don’t have anything to write about today. Sure I’m still interesting and AWESOME even when bored and it’s better to be me than everyone else on planet Earth (did I say that out loud?) Sorry. Not for saying it because…well yeah it’s true, but for letting you know it is. 😄

Oh well. Nothing much more to say. I’m not sure I’ve said anything today. Times are good in America when all I have to talk about is that nothing is going on. It causes me to think of that Stuart Smalley closing, “This wasn’t my best show today and that’s…okay. I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and dog gone it, people like me.” Meh. See you tomorrow.

It’s a slow day so I thought that instead of putting in effort I’d let my mind wander a bit and see what it locks onto. Didn’t take long. Thought about a post from a few days ago about Beatles music and remembered the 2000 VH1 movie Two of Us.

The movie takes place in 1976 six years after the Beatles bitter breakup. (Sounds like me whenever I run into an ex). During that time there was tremendous pressure for the Beatles to reunite and Lorne Michaels (the executive producer of Saturday Night Live) even as part of a comedy bit offered the group $3000 to perform some songs on the show. This was all the funnier because not only was the amount absurdly low but he said they could divide it equally or give Ringo less.

So where do we go from here? (This is my first movie review and I’ve got to say that watching them is more fun than writing about them) Where were we? 1976 right. Back to the days before Star Wars and when special effects were still clay animation. So Paul McCartney is now firmly ensconced with his new band Wings, has the #1 song in the country with Silly Love Songs (I always hated that song) and goes to see John Lennon at a time when Yoko Ono is out of town. That should have been a time to get down and boogey, ding dong the witch is gone but no things are more awkward between the two than seeing your mother naked.

Needless to say (but I will) the two spend the day together hamnering out their issues (a lot of them) but can’t really find a way to recapture their old friendship (too much time has passed). As the night goes on they see Lorne Michaels make the offer while watching the show and decide wouldn’t it be great to take him up on his offer (hell yeah it would. People would still be talking about it all of these years later). But just as they’re about to leave for the studio Yoko Ono calls! That bitch screws up everything even in fiction! So Sir Paul waves to Saint John still on the phone with Baba Yaga and leaves. End of story and we’re left to wonder what might have been. But hey let’s not be too upset, after all it is just a movie. I now return you to your regularly scheduled lives.

This was a day like no other. The entire world watched as Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon followed by Buzz Aldrin while Michael Collins circled above in the command capsule. It was as Armstrong said so immortally, “One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.”

Today’s blog post is not about my observations of an amusing absurdist world. Or maybe it is. When President Kennedy vowed to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade the naysayers thought the president crazy placing him in good company with Galileo, Newton, Columbus and all of the other visionaries who are remembered for great achievements. Who remembers the naysayers? No one. Just as it should be.

As I write this it is becoming clear that Apollo 11 accomplishment 50 years ago is not only about that historic landing, nor is it only about the three men who have become national treasures. It is in fact about the amazing things that we have achieved throughtout history.

Whereas before books had been available only in monasteries and the royal class movable type brought books to the masses leading to a more educated public, which in turn making other leaps forward possible. The hot air balloon became the first step forward in air travel, followed by the Wright Brothers Wilbur and Orville making the incredible flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Charles Lindburgh would later pilot the Spirit of St. Louis across the ocean in the first Trans-Atlantic flight . Alan Sheppard later became the first American in space, John Glenn soon after becoming the first man to orbit the moon. The list of the impossible becoming possible go on and on. While it is inarguably true that the Moon landing was indeed one giant leap for mankind, there have been a lot of them along the way.

Celebrate the 50 year anniversary of the Moon landing, they deserve it, and then to tomorrow let’s get back to work. Lesrn ftom those men faced the future each and everyday, and then do the same. Keep dreaming those big impossible dreams, then make them come true. It’s who we are and what we do. And why not? We are Americans. 🇺🇸

I’ve been seeing the ads for what looks like a pretty good flick called Yesterday. From what I gather it’s about a struggling muscian who’s fond of playing Beatles tunes and suddenly finds himself in a world where no one remembers the group except him. Needless to say he then becomes the biggest rock star in the world by off passing off all of their songs as his own. I haven’t seen it but it’s not hard to figure out what’s going to happen.

While I’m certain that things will resort back to normal (if you can call the world that). I’ve decided to speculate on what would happen if it didn’t and the guy lived out his life as the only one who remembers of the Beatles. The answer is: RICH AS SHIT!

Yes he gets the bucks from I Want to Hold Your Hand, Sgt Pepper and Get Back but he also gets the greatest and most uplifting concert ender ever in Hey Jude. Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Jude. Not only that but he also gets to make hit albums such as The White Album and Abbeyville Road with the songs already supplied. All the benefits with none of the work required but it doesn’t stop there.

The Beatles didn’t retire after the band broke up in 1970. All of them Paul, John, George (my favorite) and Ringo all went on to successful singles careers. That means he also can sing songs such as Imagine, Instant Karma, My Sweet Lord, What is a life and countless others from the band members singles career. The hits and the cash keep on coming.

That’s a whole heap of glory for one actor who’s name I don’t. Same time I do have to hand it to him because I would have done the same thing…and I can’t even sing.

I’ve just learned of the greatest job ever created. Prostitute Tester for Brothels. Yes this is actually a job and quiet the thriving industry in Germany and Chile and even now at Nevada’s Moonlite Bunny Ranch, although they call it Quality Control Tester. The lucky guy not only get to have sex with women applying to be prostitutes, but gets to rate their performances.

It’s more than getting your Willy Wonka’d though. You have to judge their cleanliness and personality. So yeah don’t be a bitch and clip those filthy toe nails. They’d get a failing grade with me for that one. The job at Moonlite pays 24,000 per year. Not much and yeah the prostitutes make more but it’s not about the money (at least for you, it is for them) it’s about the fringe benefits. What other job not only encourages you to get your freak on but requires it? Good luck to the guy who gets this job because there’s a whole planet of men who’ll be jealous as hell.

Love your mother? Got a special woman in your life? Maybe you’ve got a woman who you want to impress when she doesn’t even know you’re alive. Then celebrate by getting her name tattooed on your body. On my body you say? No dummy, on your body. You’re not going to make them smile putting their name on someone else. Every woman loves seeing her name tattoed across a man’s chest, (maybe, possibly…not really) especially biker bitches from New Jersey named Katherine (always spelled with a K).

For everyone wondering why I’m talking tats, I said tats not tits (one can only dream right?) It’s because it’s National Tatto Day. While I had originally planned to write about something else, calling attention to those who cover their arms in so much ink that you can barely see skin was impossible to pass up. The history of tattoos began many years ago, so far back that I’m making this up because I have no idea and don’t want to make the effort to investigate. Oh right…I gave that away, so moving on. We’ll say tattoos began sometime in history or they would not exist. There got that part covered.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Tattoos right. Meh. No opinions make up your own story. I’ll do better next time. It’s also National Hot Dog Day. Maybe you can get a tattoo of a hot dog. All women enjoy a huge weiner. 😄

I’ve had some terrible jobs in my life. I know what you’re thinking, we all have, sure but we’re talking about me, not you. As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I’ve had some terrible jobs. I won’t go into them because I don’t want to cause myself nightmares. One that does upset me is imagining myself standing in a long line of workers plucking chickens. I’ve never done it but I imagined it. Yuck.

My point is there are terrible jobs out there. Underwear inspector for instance. I don’t even know what the requirements are for that. Do you wear it or inspect others doing so? That’s just what I need, to decide how a set of underpants is holding up on a hairy fatso named Harold who’s mined the thing with beer farts. Okay I’ve changed my mind. That one is worse than plucking chickens.

What it comes down to is that there are always jobs worse than yours. No matter what you do the one thing that unites everyone is seeing someone with a worse job and saying, “I’m glad I’m not him.” The him is that guy who puts the little blue disks in the urinals. I shudder to think whom he says that about.

The screaming, moaning and table pounding heard Friday in New York’s Katz’s Deli was not due to the sandwiches (You wish) it was part of a fake orgasm contest. Women sat at various tables through out the deli and impressed the lunch crowd with their ability to fake one…take note men, they may have done it to you.

I have to hand it to Meg Ryan, if she never does anything else she’ll always be remembered for that scene. Also a salute to Billy Crystal because not even Tom Hank’s could have peformed the scene as stoically and bemused as he did which was capped off perfectly by Rob Reiner’s mother telling her waitress, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

It does make me wonder if I’ve ever been the victim of one of these best actress performances. I’ve never gotten any complaints but isn’t that point? For all of the shouting by some about equal pay for women it makes me think they already have enough power if they can fool us like this regularly.

Speaking for myself I’d have enjoyed the contest but probably wouldn’t have been hungry after watching it. Pastrami and orgasms don’t go together. I prefer roast beef anyway.

While talking to a friend online last night she mentioned that she had been to Panera Bread for lunch and it sure cost a lot of it (bread I mean). $25 for two half-sandwiches around the size of a box of matches. $25 dollars for that? She may as well have used the matches to burn the money since she sort of did anyway. It got me to thunking though about the things people will eat for less and the most disgusting thing I can thinl of are…

Wait for it…

Pickled pigs feet.

Cheap food and so disgusting that the man who eats will get plenty of it because anyone else who’s eyes work will refuse to touch it. Ignoring what he knows about the pig, where it’s been, where it lives, steps and wallows in, he still looks at those pickled tootsies and says, “yum.” Craving only the most outrageous of meals he ignores the rocky mountain oysters, cows tongue, jellied moose nose and the head or butt cheese to go with it, but two swine feet soaking in pickle juice, he say’s let me at ’em. So get to it you who eat pickled pigs feet or any pig’s feet for that matter. No one’s going to stop you. You’re braver than I am because it takes guts to eat those feet. 😲