You Better You Bet

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” – Mark Twain

“I hope I die before I get old.” – Roger Daltrey

I have a lot in common with transsexuals. Let me explain. People who are born in a body that they don’t indentify with, sometimes live as the opposite sex. Some even get surgery to become the man or woman they were supposed to be.

I’m like this.

My mind, heart, and body don’t match. I think like an artist. I love like a suburban husband and father. I ache like a former pro wrestler. It’s frustrating. I still think like the early 20 something writer wannabe. Every once in a while, I wish I could take Bobina, a bottle or 3 of whiskey, find a beach, and write until some idiot published me. I treasure my children and the life my wife and I have made with them. My teenage daughter’s last cheerleading competition was Saturday and I’m in withdrawals, wanting more. I’m breaking down her team’s routine instead of studying how the Jets can beat the Dolphins on Monday night football. My 7 year old’s report card is the most important piece of paper in my house right now, not the books I’m supposed to be writing. Most of all, my body is falling apart. I think I am in the onset of andropause. I haven’t been to a doctor yet, but I’m having hot flashes, irritatibility, aches and pains, sleeplessness, and massive losses of energy.

Yesterday I killed it at the gym. The workout was hard but I nailed it. I felt amazing. I came home and just passed out. By the late afternoon I was snapping at everyone in my house, burning up from the waves of fire over my body, and felt like I was 80 years old. Then Indy race car driver Dan Wheldon died, leaving a young wife and two children under the age of 3, and I hated myself for having problems at all.

I know who and what I am. I just don’t think I like it all the time. It’s no fun being nice and responsible and caring and happy. It kind of sucks. It’s me I’m talking about. Bobina and the girls are the best. Without them, I’m just some loser. The point is, I wish my head and body matched my heart.

This is a lot of sarcasm with a smattering on insight.

My wife watches every vampire with a heart show on television and the movies. You know how those teenaged looking kids that are really 200 years old are moody and brooding because they have to drink pig blood instead of eating humans like they’re supposed to? Look, jerks, the shows are on and sometimes I’m writing in the same room, get off me. Anyway, that’s me. I need to feed.

I’m supposed to go the doctor tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll tell me it’s the aging process and I’m “normal”. I’m hoping she tells me I’m really a teenage vampire and I’ll live forever. Then I’ll walk out in the sun and become dust.

****blogger’s note****

Technically this falls under 30 Days of Shamelessness numbers 12. – Share a health struggle and number 24 :”share a struggle you just have to get over”. So now the 30 days nazis JenO http://www.mytornadoalley.com and Dawnie http://www.thedawnieproject.com  will be satisfied (joking). New Helene Troy story episode for my Indie Ink challenge “i know how the caged bird sings”, tomorrow.

Today’s song is from The Who. I’ve always interpreted You Better You Bet as a dysfunctional relationship between an aging rock star and his trying to be normal, responsible girlfriend/wife. I feel this way sometimes. I listen to the sounds of ol T.Rex and I love my wife’s passport picture. She has the cutest nose. Play this loud, it helps. Here’s You Better You Bet

 

Instant Karma

I need to make an apology.

This past weekend, John Lennon would’ve been 71 years ago. He was killed by a horribly disturbed man with a gun in December, 1980. I didn’t appreciate Lennon like he deserved. I grew up in suburban Atlanta, Georgia. The conventional wisdom of my region at the time was John Lennon was a henpecked husband, has been artist, annoying commie hippie who was vastly overrated. The more I think about it, and the more time educates, the same things could be said about me. Well, I’m not a has been anything. I’m more of a wannabe or never was. Lennon’s attitude of everyone just getting along seemed trite and impossible.

A lot of bloggers use their sites to make themselves look good or inflict damage on others. When 30 days of Shameslessness came about a couple of months ago, I saw “talk about some crap that was done to you” and rubbed my hands together like a silent movie villain. The truth is, I don’t care about the crap that was done to me. Those people have to look in the mirror, hope there’s a reflection, and figure out a way to live with their guilt.

I was in the car with my 8 year old at the end last week, either Thursday or Friday, and John Lennon’s Instant Karma came on an oldie radio station. She kept flipping the stations, almost stayed on a Katy Perry abomination, and instead, she went back to Lennon. She didn’t say anything, she just listened. I wondered if she remembered I played Lennon’s music when she was a baby and sang his songs, along with the other Beatles’ when she was a baby. During her first three years of existence, I dealt with a crumbling marriage and horrors after leaving it. Last year, at this time, I went through another bad experience and leaned on The Beatles and Lennon’s solo stuff.

John Lennon wasn’t supposed to die. He was happy when he was gunned down. He had repaired his marriage to Yoko. He was a good father after being a bad one for many years. His Double Fantasy album was getting critically acclaim. He was only 40 years old, basically the same age I am now. John, if you read blogs from Heaven, I want to say, I’m sorry for waiting 30 years to really honor you and your amazing art.

Yesterday, I wondered, if something happened to me would I be okay with what I’ve done and how I’ve done it. For the first time in my 41 years, I can honestly say yes. Can you?

****blogger’s note****

Because of a new, awesome, writing assignment for http://viehebdomadaires.wordpress.com/contact-us/ I am slightly behind on new Helene Troy and Indie Ink. I’m combining the two and you will see it tomorrow morning, pinky swear. Here is my new post for viehebdomadaires: http://viehebdomadaires.wordpress.com/2011/10/10/catwoman-and-batman/

 

Today’s song is John Lennon being poignant, sarcastic, and straight. Here’s Instant Karma.

Old Rose

The room’s always dark. There’s never anyone around. I would rather not have people know I’m watching a certain television show. I think this video will explain everything.

Ahh yeah, it’s 69 year old Charlie Rose interviewing 69 year old Charlie Rose about technology and the internet. It just doesn’t get any more clever and rock star than that, huh?

In my previous life as a news and sports reporter I got invited to New York for the Associated Press reporters convention. As I was walking through the banquet hall I came within about 6 feet of Charlie Rose. He was already a legendary newsman. He was only 49 then and looked 69. He said hello to me but I think he thought I was a busboy because he asked me to fetch him a club soda. This is probably how Jay Z felt when the old man sat him down behind that desk.

In the spirit of 30 days of Shamelessness or as I called it originally, Humble Pie, I write number 1 of the meme – Declare Your Love Of An Uncool TV Show. It’ doesn’t get anymore uncool than Charlie Rose on PBS. There’s a desk, maybe 3 or 4 60 watt lights bumbs, and an hour of an almost 70 year old white dude, who talks in slow measued tones, interviewing rock stars, heads of state, actors, and writers about how it is to be whatever they are. Fascinating, right? Believe it or not, it is. Charlie is a terrific interviewer. His dry sense of humor, surprisingly knowledge of current events, and no commercial breaks end up making a good hour of television. Charlie is also on 60 minutes. He’s considered the new guy, the young whippersnapper.  Here’s Charlie and the now defunct White Stripes.

If I ever get published, I have one lofty celebrity goal. I want Charlie Rose to interview me. Two reasons. One, I admire his work and would find it an honor. Two, no matter how boring I am, Charlie can out boring me. I’ll feel safe as a new born kitten.

I only recently told my wife that I watch Charlie. She seemed surprised. I wonder what you all will think. It’s PBS and it’s an old man and it’s really dry. I can’t stop watching him. Here’s Charlie at his best, getting Conan O’Brien to be introspective, pensive and serious instead of funny.

****blogger’s note*** Thanks to my robot sister Amy at http://www.kidfreeliving.com I discovered Kristen Lamb’s writing advice site, : http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/ If you are a writer you better read it. It’s brutally honest and extremely helpful.

Today’s song is me redeeming myself for the uncool television show. Here’s The Damned’s punk epic, New Rose.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

It’s Saturday morning and my head is about to explode. There’s 3 thousand people packed into the largest high school gymnasium in the State of Georgia. Most of them are chanting, screaming, clapping, stomping, dancing, and exuding pep that just isn’t normal. Katy Perry’s Firework comes over the PA system and thousands of teenage girl cheerleaders start singing, in unison, mostly out of pitch, that infernal song. God, I know I haven’t been perfect. Is this is my judgement for my sins, you have me humbled. On second thought, I’m in Hell, one of Dante’s rings, surrounded by hairbows and makeup. This is the end of my days.

The alarm went off at 5:30am on a Saturday. I’m a morning person and I found this flat wrong. It’s a weekend day, two of my three kids were elsewhere, and the teenager normally sleeps to noon. Oh yeah, it’s my oldest child’s big day. Tay’s first high school cheerleading competition was in 4 and a half hours. To boost team morale and suck on carbs, the coach arranged a squad breakfast for 6:30am. Tay needed an hour to get ready. I kept my bitching to a minimum and went into robot mode. This is my daughter at 6:24am-

“You have to wear spirit wear.”

I look at my wife like she told me I had to wear a Lady Gaga meat dress.

“I have a Lanier Longhorns (my kid’s high school and team nickname) t-shirt but it’s 2 years old and I think the kids shrank it. How about I just smile a lot and show my jazz hands.”

I get the death glare. You know the one. It’s the look that tells you you’re sleeping on the couch for a week and you’re buying her something expensive if you don’t aquiesce immediately. I pull on the small t-shirt. I normally wear a medium. My wife was right.

The scene is hard to explain. Saying “you had to be there” makes for a crappy blog. There’s bad music, an awful sound system that’s never heard of Radiohead, and parents that are trying way too hard to relive their days in tight sweaters. Everyone is subversively happy. It’s Up With People with judges who give points for facial expressions. The hipster “i don’t give a crap” don’t score highly. Neither does the “it’s Saturday morning and football comes on in an two hours” eye roll.

My daughter looked beautiful. She wore the least amount of makeup of her peers and teammates. She smiled through a sprained ankle. Mostly Tay worked harder than I’ve ever seen her work. Her team is young. The school is in their second year. She represents a co-ed JV squad. Tay’s group went first. That’s right, first. Twenty eight squads and my darling’s Lanier Longhorns pulled the curtain. Their nerves were palpable. Her mom and I were sick with anticipations. She killed it. Dead. Tay hit every jump, tuck, backtuck, flip, stunt, front handspring, back handspring, and facial expression. Her team was terrific. They pulled first place for their division. My kid was the best one and the prettiest one. There isn’t a trophy for that but everyone acknowledged. I could tell.

I learned a lot on this day. If my daughter wasn’t involved in a cheerleading competition, I wouldn’t be anywhere near one. Yet, I picked up the lingo. I mean if my daughter was a baseball player and she hit a double off the wall to score two runs, I’d be able to spit that back. I felt her enthusiam. Mostly I witnessed my girl accomplish something remarkable. She worked herself into being a good cheerleader, through injury, stress, and pressure. There’s another competition next week. I’ll leave the cynicism at home next time. It Smelled Like Teen Spirit inside that hole of noise today. I kind of liked it. I’m proud of my daughter.

This is my try at braggin;. Part of 30 Days of Shamelessness http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/30-days-in-the-hole/ number 18 – BRAG. 

Today’s song was easy to post. There are cheerleaders, granted not the kind I want my daughter to be, and it rocks. This is probably more like the kind of cheerleading competition that suits my tastes. I feel stupid and contagious. Here’s Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Robot Fool

A couple of days ago, one of my fellow robots, Kristi, over at http://www.therobotmommy.com , issued a challenge. The prize is a $50 gift card to Starbucks. The mission is doing a robot dance, on video, and send it to her website. I don’t drink coffee, eat muffins, hang out with hippies, or dance. Yet, I felt compelled to enter Kristi’s contest because I was overwhelmed by the flu and love for my starbucks drinking women.

This is also my contribution to 30 Days Of Shameleness, specifically, number 2; act like a fool. I know that any of my blog posts qualify for acting the fool, but I wanted to go all the way. So, i made a video of me robot dancing. Honestly, the 3 minutes speaks for itself. You will either hate me or pity me or create a new word- pityhateme.

Daft Punk’s Robot Rock is providing the soundtrack for this youtube ridiculousness, so that serves as the song for the day. Pityhateme:

Fire Woman

For the first three months of My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, i wrote to my wife and a few close friends. Literally, it got 5 hits a day, maybe 10 when I talked about them. I decided to reach out to other people who wrote. I’ve believed so many of the horror stories about the innerwebz. It’s all serial killers and felonious freaks, right? When I had a myspace music blog several years ago, I delt with musicians and music business types. I always kept my distance. But last August, so one year ago, I ran across some people and joined their writing communites. No one tried to lure me into their van with candy. I didn’t get a single devil worshiping marriage proposal. Instead, I discovered people who shared my anxiety disorder, liked the same music, and were positively and negatively tormented, as I am, by their art. Now, My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog is rocking 75 hits a day and I have made some excellent friends.

One of those people, Karen, bestowed a blogging award:

http://karensomethingorother.blogspot.com/

Karen’s Canadian which means she has to be funny or she’d be depressed. She doesn’t take herself or her blog seriously. She has a cool family she loves.

I think the rules are I recommend some random number of blogs to pass the award to and tell you things about me. I’ve done similar memes in the past. Karen hates rules as much as I do. So I’ll let you in on your favorite robot human hybrid then suggest some blogs you should be reading because. I’ll see you again in a day or two with some fiction.

1- I like to walk on the left side of people. I feel completely lost and out of sorts walking on the right side. If you see me, and I’m on the right side of someone, know that internally, I’m ablaze with anxiety and doubt and I may explode.

2- I don’t like to wear shorts, even to work out. I have 3 pair of shorts and maybe 2 pair of workout shorts. I don’t put them on unless the workout pants are filthy and/or my jeans are unavailable. I think most dudes look stupid in shorts. My legs are fine, in shape and presentable, I just prefer to show them only on the beach or to my wife.

3- I write EVERYTHING in a notebook with a number 2 pencil THEN transfer it over to computer. What you are reading now was scribbled earlier on paper. I’m old school.

4- I don’t really like food. I mean, I like really good food, but I can skip most meals and be ok. This is the robot part of me. If you told me, tomorrow, that I had to take a pill and never eat food again, I’d be ok. Being married to a chef who obsesses over food is hard for me or maybe it’s hard for her because I say “i don’t care” when she ask me 3 times  a day what we are eating.

5- I like hanging out with women more than men most of the time. I talk a lot. I live with 4 women. Include my mother in law, sister in law, niece, and close friends and I am around as many as a dozen women daily. That being said, every once in a while, I need beer, football, testosterone, and a dude hangout. So if you are reading this and have sports tickets or know a place with good brew, call me. I’m desperate.

Here are places I go for art, laughs, perspective, uniqueness, community, and calm:

Deana aka The Bobina – http://mythoughtsonthesubjectareasfollows.wordpress.com – my wife and my best friend

Abby – http://abbyhasissues.com/ - hilarious and as weird as I am

Chopper Papa – http://chopperpapa.com/ a great guy with a great perspective

JenO- http://mytornadoalley.com/ - talented Canadian writer with a good sense of humor

Tara – http://thinspiralnotebook.wordpress.com – she takes beautiful pictures and writes with flair and style.

Jenna – http://t.co/OD1NiaH, http://t.co/OD1NiaH, http://t.co/8dkvmez, http://t.co/qYjSvbB - she writes everywhere with kindness

You know, go look at my blogroll. They’re all amazing. Just read them.

This is also a nod to 30 Days of Shameslessness http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/30-days-in-the-hole/. It’s number 23 – “share a secret”. I shared several.

Today’s song is from The Cult and their underrated Sonic Temple album. This was a college song for me. I played it constantly. It also speaks to some of the great women I know in my house and on the internets. Here’s Fire Woman.

Good Enough

Before your read this blog post, look deep inside your soul, find a mirror, then get over yourself.

I am anti-plastic surgery, especially for women. I just don’t understand why people drop thousands of dollars and end up looking worse in the long run. In writing another entry for 30 Days Of Shamelessness http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/30-days-in-the-hole/ or as I have rechristened it, since i am not following the meme’s rules, Humble Pie, I am finding ideas I didn’t realize I had.

I live with 4 women, I write about that and them a lot. Vanity is a reality in this house. We never leave for things on time because someone is redoing their hair, applying mascara, or changing their shirt. I will never change my wife and three daughters’ minds by telling them how beautiful they are, they will still fidget and fix. What I hope I can convince these curious chicks is, they will never feel pressure from me to perfect themselves.

Read this celebrity article: http://movies.yahoo.com/news/kate-winslet-rachel-weisz-form-anti-cosmetic-surgery-225321529.html Three women, Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson, and Rachel Weisz say they’ll never have cosmetic surgery to look younger, regardless of the pressures of Hollywood or the entertainment industry. I don’t know if I believe them nor do I think they’re anything more than opinionated and refreshing. The aspect of their story that they are European shouldn’t be ignored. Another woman from across the pond, Helen Mirren, is changing people’s attitudes about women being considered “sexy” even though she’s deep into her sixties. She too, has never had plastic surgery. Maybe the British, and other non Americans’ view is something us self absorbed Yanks should think about. All of those women either have children or are influencing young women. What if more American celebrities said this, “You’re Perfectly Imperfect”?

Some of you, especially men, are reading this and saying “c’mon dude, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t mind your wife getting a nip and tuck .” Yes I would mind. To do that, you are giving in to someone else’s opinion about what you look like. Two posts ago I posted beach pictures of me and my family. I go to the gym 4 days a week. I don’t eat great, but I eat okay. You see the gut I have. I’m short, thick waisted, and far from perfect. Every ounce of fat I have is in my abdomen. I have never once, seriously thought about blowing 5 large on liposuction. 

I know there are some women reading this, saying “I’m so flat chested, no man will ever be attracted to me” or “I can’t get rid of this fat here or there”. That’s vanity and that’s alright. I happen to think the woman I’m married to and my daughters are drop dead gorgeous. I know I’m supposed to think to think that or I’m a major jagoff but I think that and say so. I just don’t want any of them to ever feel pressure to “fix” anything. My teenage daughter goes to school with girls who have parents that have done things to themselves in a doctor’s office. What message is that sending to their girls?

I’ve never seen a boob job that looks better than the real thing. Every facial surgery I’ve ever seen on women at my gym makes them look scary and unnatural. After reading that article, I find Kate, Emma , and Rachel even more attractive because inside, they get it. That radiates beauty.

I intentionally excluded pictures of people in this post. I wanted you to read more words not stare at t & a, especially fake t & a. If you are reading this and thinking I’m full of bs, fine,j just know that I think you’re good enough – Male or Female. 

This is number 21 “express a strong feeling” from 30 Days Of Shamelessness”. Yes, I’m jumping around because I’m punk rock like that.

Today’s song is from Sarah Maclachlan. Her Good Enough is more about emotional strength and inner beauty, but the message gets out. Here’s Good Enough:

Holidays in the Sun

I’m in a poor mood. It’s a 2 pill day. I’ve played 4 punk songs this morning and I still don’t feel any better. Maybe that’s the point.

I wrote about 900 words of the Crazy Robot story and submitted it to my cracked critique group. Once they’ve told me how bad it is, I will show you some of it.

Until then I’m going to cheap pop post you with another element of 30 Days of Shamelessness aka Humble Pie. This time it’s number 11, “Dress to show some skin”. Which doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t you undress to show some skin? Here’s me and the girls in Florida last year.

The tattoos are real. Unfortunately, so is the gut. Things don’t get any more weird or uncool than these pictures of me. Look at those kids.. They’re gorgeous. That’s my niece, Isabella aka Belly in the picture on the left next to Bug and Tay. That’s Lyla aka Bug in the picture to the right. She turns 8 in two weeks. I have no idea where the Goose was at the time. My guess is finding a cool drink.

Today’s song is ironic. It also goes out to my brothers and sister across the pond who want change without looting. Keep sticking it to the man, Britain. This is The Sex Pistols, Holidays in the Sun. Riot something today, but be cool about it all.

The English Patient

I’m a romantic and it’s not always a good thing. That makes me have uncool choices, especially in entertainment. In the presentation of 30 Days of Shamelessness or as I have rechristened it because of my rampant rule breaking, Humble Pie; here is another example of my extreme oddness.

I  unapologetically love the movie, The English Patient.

It was never in the top five at the box office. It has never been viewed by anyone under the age of 30, I don’t believe. It won 9 Academy Awards, including Best Picture. So, it isn’t cool, right? I mean grown ups with a lot of time on their hands care about a sweeping epic told with the backdrop of World War II. It’s over 3 hours long, shown in flashbacks out of sequence. It features the main protagonists, Ralph Fiennes and Kristin Scott Thomas never smiling, while having an awful affair with a tragic outcome. Why have I seen this maudlin, overblown soap opera, over a dozen times? Because Im a geek for cinematography, plane crashes, burn victims, and people with foreigh accents making moral ambiguity seem pretty.

Most cool people hate this movie. Elaine Benes on Seinfeld expressed the attitude of anyone with a real life. I mean who is going to buy this flick in the age of 90 minute action movies with no plot and naked people? I’ll let Elaine explain;

So, as it turns out, if you watched the Seinfeld video, I’m just like Elaine’s boyfriend and also her boss, Mr Peterman. I liked the desert shots, the melodrama between Juliette Binoche and no thumbed Willem Dafoe. Do I need mention Kristin Scott Thomas washing Ralph Fiennes hair and cheating on her husband, Colin Firth?

Everyone has an accent. No one is moral. Dehydration is shown as a supporting character. At the end of the thing, anyone who has watched it, beside me, has wanted Ralph Fiennes’ character’s lethal dose of morphine for themselves. I love it hardcore.

I can’t get enough of it. It won 9 Oscars. Scoreboard.

I jumped around again. This is number 5 on 30 Days of Shamelessnesshttp://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/30-days-in-the-hole/ . I dropped a chick movie that’s over 3 hours long. Top that.

Today’s song is from a band I hung out with in college. They’re from Birmingham and I’ve seen them several times. It’s good straight forward southern rock and roll. Their biggest hit speaks volumes about my confessions on this series of blog posts. Here’s Brother Cane and Got No Shame. I dare you not to rock out to this tune after you hate The English Patient.

Cherry Humble Pie

In preparation for for day one of the 30 Days of Shamelessness meme, http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/09/30-days-in-the-hole/ , I was going to do something I usually avoid. I was going to follow rules. I selected an uncool, lame television show, figured my angle to present, tracked the video clips, and wrote the jokes. Then life happened.

Jani Lane died this morning.

For the uniniated or the angels among us that don’t know pop metal hair band music, Jani was the lead singer of Warrant. They weren’t good but they weren’t bad either. If I had to make a comparison I would say Warrant was the equivalant to a backup quarterback on a  football team. They were likable as long as they weren’t trying to be important. Jani was the main songwriter. I liked Down Boys. It was a terrific riding around with your boys on a Friday night party song. Uncle Tom’s Cabin is well done and should have been their signature tune. But a record executive told them that their second album needed to sell more. Instead of calling the release Uncle Tom’s Cabin and presenting the band as more serious, the executive demanded a party song. He wanted something girls and guys would like equally that MTV would play like hell. In less than 15 minutes, Jani, drunk, wrote Cherry Pie. That song defined the band as goofy, careless, immature and poster material for what grunge music would and should do to the industry months later. A four minute rock song about dessert as sexual innuendo killed Warrant’s chance at a long career as a serious band. Jani carried the burden of being “The Cherry Pie” guy.

Jani had a lot of problems with drugs and alcohol. A few years ago he showed up on Celebrity Fit Club. He wasn’t obese. But his skin looked transluscent. He looked 10 years older than his early 40s. In the midst of losing weight on the show, cameras caught him drunk in concert. I saw him the same way over 10 years ago when he opened for Chris Jericho’s band Fozzy in a Marietta, Georgia club. Jani, a father to a young girl, was a cliche. He was washed up, drunk, and hopeless.

Yesterday, he was found dead in a Comfort Inn in Los Angeles, California. He was only 47 years old. He had been kicked out of the Warrant reunion tour 3 years earlier because of his condition. He canceled solo shows throughout this month without reason.

I can’t say I am or was a fan of Jani because of his track record as a dad. But I was a fan of his band when it wasn’t cool to be. I listened to Warrant on the sly. I loved Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinkin Rich, their first album. I really dug Uncle Tom’s Cabin. As bad as Cherry Pie is, it’s a fun, harmless piece of crap to turn your brain off for a few minutes.

So, I was rock and roll today. I broke the rules. I jumped to number 10 on the Shamelessness list and told you my uncool band. Do me a favor, hit the bargain bins at Walmart, Target, or used CD stores. You can find Dirty Rotten Fithy Stinkin Rich for 5 bucks or less. Buy them. Maybe the money will make it’s way to Jani’s daughter.

Here’s my first slice of Humble Pie or Shamelessness according to the meme. At least you’ll know, from Jani and Warrant, where The Down Boys go.