No matter what people tell me...I'm a fucking winner. 

I won tickets to Robert Randolph and the Family Band show on Wed night off the radio.  I never win shit off the radio.  But, the forces of good/evil were with me and I fucking won....

Take that, mom

Friday, the great people of Knoxville went fucking bonkers.   Hurricane Ike was bearing down on the Tejas oilfields and there was going to be a SHORTAGE of petrol.  Holy fuck, what should we do?  Buy a bunch of gas.  No matter the price.  Well, the opportunists/capitalists in the convenience stores jacked the prices of regular unleaded upwards of 4 bucks a gallon.  I personally saw signs for 4.59 and 4.99 a gallon.  And people were lined up down the block for this shit.  The same gas was 3.59 on Friday morning.

I don't blame the stores/gas stations for doing this.  They have businesses.  They have a commodity people want.  They can set the price at anything they want.  If they can get five bucks a gallon, well, why not?  Sure, it seems scumbaggish and I sure don't want to pay that price.  But, I can understand their position.

I really don't know what to think of the whole situation here.  Knoxville has had historically low gas prices compared to the US average.  But, now we are about a dollar over the average.  Something is going on that is a little strange or crooked or both.  People, however, need to calm down.  The best thing to do when stations jack prices up is to NOT BUY GAS!.  Not do the exact opposite and speed to the pumps.  The only way to bring the prices down is to buy less gas.  Simple as that.  Walk somewhere.  Ration what you have until you have none left.  Ride a bike.  Pogo stick to work.  Do what you got to do just drive a little less.

The lemmings in E Tenn are completely insane.  Fucking 'tards.

I'm off to buy some gas.....

I know this was over the weekend but:

How is it that MTV can have Video Music Awards when they haven't actually had any music videos on their network for years?  And should they still be able to call themselves MTV?  A very curious situation indeed...

Does anyone have an answer for this?

I also must be getting old but I didn't recognize any of the songs and only a handful of artists in the nominating categories.  Hmmmm....why didn't Aerosmith get a nomination?  Where was DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince in the Best Rap Video Category?  It seems to me that Bon Jovi should have won Best New Artist. 

My buddy at work has the hook up.  Apparently, Robert Randolph and the Family Band are coming through our little 'hood to do a "Private, Invitation Only" show.  Of course, it's sold out.  But, good old Dudley gots the friends in the right places and she can get us two tix into the concert.  Man, I hope this pans out.

*The only catch is that I have to promise to buy a ticket for the severly undersold Clutch show at the end of the month (go ahead and be jealous, Jalepeno).  So, I should get RR near my birthday and Clutch a week later.  Sept. could be a really good month.

The football season has started out rather "meh".  'Canes lose, Bulls win.  I guess it was a wash.  I still fucking hate the gators, though.

*I care much more about college football than I do the overinflated egoes and bank accounts of the pro's.

**Jenn hates football season. 

So, it looks like ol' New Orleans is going to get douched again.  Shit.  Not that we live there anymore, but the city still holds a special place in my heart.  It's where the Mrs. and I got married.  It's basically where we started our lives together.  So, it's always disheartening to see Mother Nature fuck the "City that care forgot" over and over again.

Say what you will about NOLA but the culture and vibe of the city sinks into your being after you've lived there a while.  When I first moved to the bayou I friggin' hated it.  It was dirty, stinky, crowded, and full of free-loading criminal-types.  However, over time I began to see the true city.  There are caring, wonderful people all over the place down there that would take you in in a heartbeat and treat you as family.  There are wonderful places to eat, see live music and wander around aimlessly.  I love that city...the city that I once hated.

I could never live there again.  Only because of Mama Nature.  Not because of the city itself.  I miss it often and get back to visit friends when I can.  Hopefully, next year there will still be someplace to visit and at least one chef able to put bbq shrimp on my plate.

Good luck, New Orleans.  You're gonna need it.

When I told my co-workers that Jenn and I were going across the mountains to visit Asheville, NC every one of them said "Enjoy the Hippies".  Well, I scoffed at this.  Surely, there weren't that many of the hippy variety in such a small mountain town.  Once again, Josh is WRONG!

The drive over was uneventful.  It's only a couple of hours across and it was actually quite beautiful scenery.  So, we roll into town and look for a place to park, which we find relatively easily.  Two bucks to park for the entire day is a sweet fucking deal no matter where you are.  Anyway, we start walking around the downtown area and I have yet to see a hippy.  I see some funky shops, many coffee houses, and a giant iron sculpture (like an Iron that you press clothes with) that was at least eight feet tall.  Interesting.

Then we find the central square.  Lo and behold....hippies, dude.  Gathered in this little square were a flock of the pot-reeking variety.  One, dressed as a tiger complete with tail, was painting the faces of his eagerly waiting customers (both of them).  Others, like the guy in a dress and the biggest shock of dreadlocked hair that hasn't been seen outside of a reggae concert, were just milling about and taking in the sights. 

The surreality of the scene hit me when a marching band from Winston Salem began warming up on the street.  Did I mention that it was a day of an African American cultural festival?  So, with the band warming up Jenn and I sat, sipped our sodas, and watched as two freaks began martial-arting one another.  Let me paint the scene the best I can because it is uber-weird.  Behind us, in a circle, is the marching band's drum line...who had a surprisingly loud sound from such a smallish drum line (there were only like 12 of them) warming up and "breaking it down".  In front of us is the hippy scene.  Two thin youngish men (mid 20's at the oldest) dressed exactly alike (bright blue paints with a fruity assed white shirt with a rainbow in the center) were performing for the crowd.  At first, they were chanting some bullshit and playing homemade instruments.  Then, after the inner city school band arrived, they moved to doing slow motion karate-type moves on each other complete with Matrix-style blocks and manouvers.  I have no fucking idea how they didn't know how retarded they looked.  The effect of mushrooms probably blocked the stares and snickers from their consciousness.  So, with an entirely black marching band warming up behind me and two, white freaks doing their mating dance in front of me, I couldn't help but thinking: Dr. King would be so proud of this harmony.

The rest of the day was great.  We walked through the festival (which was much bigger than I anticipated) and moseyed around the city and got to experience the downtown area.  One thing can be said for the patchouli-set: they are extrememly welcoming to all.  I like that. 

It really was a fun and relaxing day.  We'll have to go back again for the weeked and take fat dog with us. 

Peace You Fucking Hippies

JR 

Which side of your family do you resemble more?

I have come to believe that I am a perfect amalgam of the two folks that birthed me.  Strangely enough, I look more like my uncle (dad's bro) than I do my father.  Which raises questions in itself. 

My sense of kindness, responsibility, practicality, and love comes from my mom.  My sense of humor, incredible aloofness (is that a word?) and creativity come from my dad. 

The tremendous amount of body hair comes from my mom.

Hey all.  So, I was watching this morning the highlights from the O-lympics and Mr. Phelps and company during the swimming thingie*.  I think it's kinda funny that the only time that anyone gives three happy-high-five-fucks about the swimming is during the O-lympics.  But, watching the news and highlights were a little unsettling (as it often is).  The expectations for this Mike Phelps dude are overwhelming, even for me and I'm sitting my lazy ass in my recliner, sippin' a beer watching the athletes and I feel the pressure.  This guy is being put under tremendous pressure to perform at the highest level possible.  I feel for him and I'm amazed he hasn't cracked yet.

Sure, he has the ability to break many records.  Yes, this guy is probably one of the greatest 'merican O-lympic athletes ever.  But, man, for the ol' talking heads on the tv and the interviewers and the street vendors to always, consistently raise the issue of his record setting feats is a little much.  "2 gold down 5 to go": you hear that one a lot.  "3 more to go, blahblahblah".  Jeebus fuckme Christmus, ONE gold medal in the games is a tremendous feat and YOU ASSHOLES expect, no DEMAND, this 23 year old swmmy guy to do that SEVEN fucking times.  That's preposterous.   

In real-life terms, the type of expectations put on this guy are like this:  You go to work on Monday and your boss comes in to say good morning,  He/She then goes on to say that you, by yourself or with a small team, need to raise this quarter's profits by ten percent.  Then she gives you by lunch to get it done (for the white collar sector).  That is what it would be like.  Or, you go to work and your boss demands you pull six hundred Slurpees in twelve seconds (to the blue-collar sector).  Except M.Phelps has a boss of 300 million people and an executive of the board, called the media, placing huge expectations on such a young man.

If I were M. Phelps I would wait until my last race, my record-setting, country-unifying, tear inducing race.  Then, I would purposely come in last place.  I would then turn to the cameras and go "Fuck you and your expecations 'merica".  But, that's just me.

Anyway, enjoy the O-lympics.

*For the record, I am really happy that the men's swimmy guys don't wear the Speedo banana-hammock suits anymore.