Stupid things we say
“Shoot me an email.”
Is it email season already? Sure. Soon as I see one, I’ll shoot it for ya.
“We should have lunch one day.”
No, um, we’d stand a better chance of having a baby. I’m not up for that either, thank you.
I’m a hapless idiot, huh?”
Should I aspire to be full of hap?
“What on earth were you thinking?”
Um, nothin. I’m male. Not in the job description.
From the archives
Fooling around, cleaning-up “Surrogate Episode VIII” but got tangled up in just how far I could go. Ended being fairly-well fed-up with myself. Let it sit. Maybe later. Well, shoot, that left me empty-handed.
Pulled a piece written originally in 2009. Country lyrics. Studio owner in Music City and I beat it about. He admitted it was good but tough to put music under. What trashed the push though, was that the new “country” audience doesn’t want country, they prefer techno-engineered yelling. This piece I’m gonna throw at you shortly is suited for a twangy novelty piece, good old boys half-potted and having fun pretending they are “bad boys.” Surely at least R-rated.
If you don’t like country or novelty country you’re all done here. See ya next time.
Still with me? The piece does have a Christmas theme. Makes it kind of seasonal, huh? Being lyric, it reads kind of like poetry. Definitely not high-brow. Old Saint Nick (Is Coming Pretty Quick) is now stuck out there in “Poetry and Lyrics.” Take a look.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, Imma go look for some trouble. Shouldn’t be difficult.