About Me

What’s Up?

What’s up with the Grammy’s? I watched part of the Grammy’s last night, and I didn’t recognize anybody. Am I that old? That disconnected? Who is…well, dang, I still don’t know who half those people are. That may not mean much, though. I barely recognized Sly Stone. Isn’t there a rule somewhere that 50-year-old men can’t sport Mohawks? My goodness, the man was returning to show business after a 19 year absence and all he could muster up was Mr. T’s hairdo and 2 minutes of singing into the wrong microphone. Maybe he was in show biz all those years, but no one could hear him because his mic was off. Then, after about 15 seconds of singing into the right microphone, he turned and walked off stage. I guess he needed a Metamucil break.

What’s up with waiters and waitresses that don’t write down orders?
Hey, it’s okay. Jot a note. My wife spends half-a-day figuring out what she wants to order, so please pay us the respect of getting it right. Writing something down doesn’t make you less of a person. You’re not less cool. Believe me, I don’t think that people who write things down are incompetent. When my doctor comes in, inquires about my symptoms, and charts a course of action, you know what, he writes it down. He’s a pretty smart guy. Writing doesn’t diminish you. Mark Twain, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, they all wrote stuff down. It’s cool. I’ve got a pen if you need it.

What’s up with Super Bowl half-time shows?
Do you mean to tell me that the Super Bowl, hosted in Detroit, the home of Motown (you know The Jackson 5, The Temptations, The Four Tops, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross and the Supremes, etc…) had The Rolling Stones perform at half-time? Are you kidding me? In the seat of American music, the NFL trotted out Britain’s Strolling Bones? Nothing against The Stones, but their idea of football involves shin pads, goalies, orange slices, and stadium riots.

What’s up with the local weatherman?
Goodness, all I want to know is what to wear tomorrow. I don’t need to know about some high-pressure or low-pressure system moving in from wherever. Sorry, but I’m not concerned about the hurricane in the middle of the Atlantic that no one thinks will ever reach land. Maybe we don’t need weather reports? Maybe we just need clothing reports. “Tomorrow, you’ll need to wear long-sleeves,” or “Break out the jacket in the morning, but you’ll be running the AC be 4:00 pm.” Mr. Weatherman, what I need to wear tomorrow is all I need to know. If there are weather-geeks who want to know more, they can flip on the Weather Channel. Alexandra Steele and Jim Cantore are waiting for them.

What’s up with TV preachers?
Why do I need to send you my money, oh, excuse me, why do I need to send you a “seed,” in order for God to bless me? It looks like you’re doing pretty good. That suit looks tailor made, and your bling-bling necklace, bracelet, and ring look pretty sharp too. It looks like you could bless me. I take checks. Here’s an idea, why don’t you send me a “seed.” Heck, I pray too. I will lay hands on your “seed” and blessing will come back to you shaken together, pressed down, and over-flowing. Wait, here’s a better idea: Why don’t you stop preying on people while you’re claiming to pray for them? If you had actually ever read your Bible, instead of grabbing a scripture here and there and twisting it out of context, you would know that God is not a mob boss. You can’t pay him off for favors. TV preacher (let’s all recognize that I’m not talking about all preachers on TV) you are part of the problem people have with the Christian faith. Find some other get-rich-quick scheme.

  • R Debenport

    Crap! Do you feel better now?
    -r

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