Gross Plethora

There are so many things that I want to write about that I just can't decide on which topic to tackle first. Therefore, I will just throw a few topics on the table and you can discuss them amongst yourselves and save me a little hassle. OK?

1. Wild Cards.
   
2. Left Handed Swizzle Sticks.
3. Static Shock Therapy.
4. The Department of Redundancy Department.
5. How to Stay Awake While Sleepwalking.
6. Animal Alcoholism.
7. What Makes a Weed a Weed, and If You Put Weed in a Pot Does it become A Pot Pot, a Plant Planter, or a Pot Plant Pot Planter?
   

But seriously folks, I do have a lot to say and just didn't think that I had the mental energy to say it right now, so I wrote this as a cop-out and ended up using the same time and energy anyways. So, stay tuned, there is more exciting banter on the way. Thank you for coming. (or however you reacted.)

In the words of The Ghoul..."Stay Sick, Turn Blue, Scratch Glass, Climb Walls. And Most Important Of All...Do It While You Can, But Don't Get Caught!"

Bye

(The Famous) Mark's Dad's Red Tie

It was coming apart at the seams, so I had to fix it up to make it presentable enough to wear to a rock concert. I did this by rolling up some little pieces of duck tape, sticky side out, placing them inside it, then reshaping and ironing it into it's former proud self.
This tie had history. It belonged to the father of a friend of mine. My friend Mark had wore it when he played guitar in our band over twenty years ago. Wearing it on the outside of a collarless pull over shirt, it was Rock n' Roll. It was only on stage for one night but the red tie hung around with me for years. Last night it rocked again.
This time I gave it the dignity of wearing it with a collar and leather suit jacket befitting of a Wilco show.
Once again proving that Rock n' Roll Never Forgets.

Say Uncle

I just finished doing my income taxes. I used one of those on-line services.
Last year was a typically simple year for me financially so there was nothing complicated about filing. After entering all of the personal and financial information that was required of me, my refund was automatically calculated.
To get my money back, all I had to do was click that last little button.
SUBMIT.
There was just something about that word that made me feel like someone was sitting on top of me waving my milk money over my head, saying...
"You want your money, punk? You want your money? Here it is... Say Uncle!"

SUB-MIT (verb) To surrender to the authority, discretion, or will of another.

(haha, I was just about to post this blog when I realized that to do that, I must click the Submit button. Aaarrrgh!)

"Uncle!"