Debate

I think I talked about this a few years back, but one thing few people know about me is that in high school there was one thing I was bloodthirsty for- debate. I didn't officially join the debate team because I was already in the Key Club, bicycle club and one or two others I can't remember, plus the concert and marching band, not to mention my extracurricular activities, but I may as well have. It was the same people.
 The morning of a debate I'd get up early and put on my nicest clothes. I'd eat a good breakfast, which I usually did anyway, and I'd head off to school fired-up. I rarely lost a debate to anyone. I tried to keep an even keel and shoot straight from facts, and I did my research, which BTW I still do today. I was respectful of my opponent and their opinions, and if their stand on something made more sense, I'd at least consider it. Even if I thought I was right beyond a reasonable doubt I'd still not disregard what they had to say, or try to present my side as if it were the only side to consider. If they presented a better argument that I did then they won, and I tipped my cap to them. It was about what the actual story was, not just me-against-you. It wasn't a football game. Oh, and the people I loved to take down the most were the ones who thought they knew everything. It got in the way of the facts and I jumped all over that shit.
 There are a couple of people I'd love to debate and I've been saying that for years. The only thing is it'd have to be a proper situation. The basic unwritten rules were that you had to at least treat your opponent with respect, whether you felt it or not. You couldn't mock or insult your opponent, and things like that. In other words you had to behave in a dignified manner. I realize that times have changed along with people, and maybe it's old-school and gone the way of the dinosaur, but some people still think it's the way to behave.
 If you made a point and it was valid and truthful, and your opponent couldn't logically come up with anything to refute it, and knew it, they weren't allowed to do things like just taking an insulting jab at you just for the sake of staying against you. That would be a point off, if not outright disqualification. They couldn't have just said "I'm right and you're wrong because I say so." Of course nobody would have been stupid enough to say that in the first place. I realize that people debate in the real world and not under rules of the debate team. They're free to act toward their opponent in any manner they choose, good or bad. There's no officials to make sure they follow the rules and be respectful, if not polite, to their opponent, and at least be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt once in a while. That's a shame.

Is God Really "My Buddy?"

Here's how little kids' minds work- when I was around three I guess I imagined that God was a little boy like me, and He lived in my stomach. He had on jeans and a red and white striped shirt. How goofy was I?
 I'd been exposed to the church since pretty much day one and I wasn't really old enough to question things that were presented to me as 100% fact. I thought there was a God since most people said so. I'd hear "God lives in us" and apparently I took it literally. I'd think "Wow...how does He fit in there?" Boy was I naive. Of course I believed in Santa too.
 When I got a few months older and wiser I figured that since it was God, He could do anything He wanted, so He'd probably made a nice living area in my stomach, and He could make it seem huge, since He was God. I pictured Him running around or riding a bike or having a Coke and watching TV. Thinking back it was comforting to know He was inside me, literally or not.
 I definitely remember the jeans and shirt, and He wore the same outfit every day, but I don't have clear memories of His face. When I think about it the old "My Buddy" doll comes to mind. It wasn't like God was really like a doll; I knew He looked human but I just can't remember His face well enough to compare it to anyone. My best point of reference was myself so I figured God must look a lot like me. The My Buddy doll thing fits perfectly and it cracks me up. The outfit's a little different and God didn't have a hat, and except for blue eyes I probably looked more or less like a My Buddy when I was the age it's supposed to be.
 Not long after I started working at the crazy restaurant I'd already made some friends that I have and talk to to this day, and Andy was a big one. He's an amazing cat. Also the My Buddy doll came out. Maybe it was the beginning of the end, but besides GI Joe and such it was the first doll for boys (it was soon followed with the Kid Sister doll for girls). It was cool though...at least they weren't playing with Barbie dolls. Oops, is that hate speech? Hope not. Anyway it hit like a storm and they came out with a great commercial with a sing-along tune, which we did. We sang the My Buddy song all the time, with anyone else who felt like joining in. If you feel like singing, click: here.

Incredibly at the time we were singing the My Buddy tune, my buddy Andy drew my name at the Christmas party that year, and this is what he got me- a genuine My Buddy doll. And they were extremely gard to find that year. How or where he got it I'll never know and I didn't care. I lost it. I remember being incredibly pleased and I think this photo, which was taken at the party, clearly reflects that.
 To say that was an incredible party would be a grave understatement. Just to give you an indication it was the first year we didn't have the party at the restaurant, because they'd gotten so out of control that it would literally take us over 24 hours to clean the place up so we said "Screw it...let somebody else worry about it."
 As if the party wasn't enough we hit a local bar called PTs after that, and shut it down around dawn. The place was absolutely packed to the gills but when I walked in with the My Buddy doll sitting on my shoulders, everyone thought it was a real kid at first, and a clear path parted from the door to the bar, just like the Red Sea. We knew the owners and some regulars, and when they found out it wasn't real they all had a huge laugh. The women there all thought it was the cutest thing they'd ever seen in their lives...a semi-grown man walking into a bar with a doll. If I hadn't had a date it would've been thick pickins'. I had My Buddy for several years. I'd take him everywhere just to see people's faces. It's fun when life works out like that.
 So is God really My Buddy? I don't think so. Did He really live in my tummy when I was three years old? It's doubtful but I can't rule it out with complete certainty. Is God my buddy? I'd like to think so.

May I Take Your Order, Please?

The prez recently ordered a drone strike. I was thinking what incredible power the president has to be able to do things like order drone strikes. I was thinking of the term "order" a drone strike and it made me think of ordering at a fast-food place, although on a little different level. I grinned as my mind wandered. So The Donald pulls up to the drive-through window in his limo. It goes something like this:

"Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to McMayhem's. May I take your order?"
"Yes. I'll have one Drone Strike please."
"Sure. Regular or large?"
"Large."
"Would you like a side of chaos to go with that?"
"Yes please."
"Anything to drink?"
"No thanks."
"Will there be anything else?"
"That's it."
"That'll be eighty-five million, three hundred and seventy-four thousand, four hundred and twenty-four dollars and thirty-two cents. Drive around please."

 Maybe he should've ordered a Happy Meal instead.

Quote of the Day

"The American people won't believe anything until they see it on television." - Richard "Tricky Dick" Nixon

Quote of the Day

"Once you have tasted the taste of sky, you wil forever look up." - Leonardo Da Vinci

Things I Wish I Could Tell Tutwiler

"Man, you know what a new vinyl copy of Boingo Alive is going for now? 200 freaking bucks. Can you believe that shit?" But I can't tell him because he's gone "underground." Lol. You can't hide, man. Just ask Google. They know where you stay. Good luck going undercover, bro. Let me know how that works out.

My Appendix Story

It's been several years since I told this story so I guess it's okay to repeat myself, plus it's a decent story if you like reading about things that crazy people do. I'll put my "first time" story up against anybody's and the same goes for my appendix story.
 When I was 21 or 22 I had my appendix out. It was interesting because it was a misdiagnosis and when I came to they told me they'd removed a healthy pink appendix. These days the surgery uses a small hole but back then it was a 4" cut and probably a dozen stitches, and way more invasive. You generally spent that night in the hospital, and back then they treated people more generously for pain. Maybe it was the fact that there wasn't any infection that allowed me not to be in too too much pain (the morphine didn't hurt either) after the surgery, but mostly this story came about because I was a hellion. Let's just say I embraced any chance of an adventure.
 The surgery was early in the morning and by late afternoon I really didn't feel too bad. I was propped up in the bed reading and watching TV I guess. I'd brought some drumsticks mainly the way someone might bring a stuffed animal, and I felt well enough to drum on the mattress. I was getting a shot every four hours like clockwork, and I'd just had my 6pm shot. I was bored (but high) and wishing I could go out and have a beer or something rather than be in a hospital bed, and then some nice visitors turned things around. A few friends, O's then-girlfriend (now wife) Curran, Mary Luck and someone else I can't remember popped in to say hi. I'd been cutting up a bit with the nurses but friends' company was most welcome.
 We were chatting and since it was Friday night I asked them what was going on, and they got quiet. "What's the matter?" I asked. Mary said "Well...we didn't want to tell you but there's a party going on." "Is anyone playing?" "Yes" they said. "Who?" I asked. "Your band." "WHAT?" I said. They told me that a last-minute party came up and they got asked to play. I asked who was playing drums and they said that O' was going to play a few songs and that a couple of our drummer-friends and another guy were going to split the drum chair. They told me that they were going to set up my kit, and whatever guy could play certain types of tunes better would play those, and so forth. "This is just not right" I said. "That's why we didn't want to tell you." "Nope, this won't do."
 A gig is sacred. I didn't have a problem with my drum buds playing but with all due respect the music we played was really intense- Zappa, King Crimson, Devo, plus our insane originals, and those guys hadn't had time to learn the tunes much less rehearse. I knew it would be a train wreck if they tried to do any of the heavy tunes, and that was half our shit. I guess they could've jammed on a Dead tune for 45 minutes but I just didn't want to see that happen. On the one hand I'd just had surgery ten hours earlier, but on the other hand, fuck it. To be honest the shot of morphine I'd just had may have had a small part in egging me on but I really wasn't hurting much anyway, and this would be a serious adventure.
 Besides getting to a party I knew would be a blast, just getting out of the hospital would be a major challenge. I could've been seen leaving or they might have gone into my room and not seen me and freaked out and put out an APB. I'm glad that didn't happen. I should have thought to leave a note.  They weren't scheduled  to come back into my room until it was time for my next shot, at 10pm. I knew I had a little under four hours to get there, play as much as possible and then sneak back in. Time was a-wastin'. I started slowly stretching my wrist band.
"What are you DOING?" asked the girls. "You know what I'm doing. I'm bustin' outta this joint. Hand me my jeans please." "You're out of your mind." "I know." I got dressed and took off the gown. Luckily I didn't have an IV or monitors hooked up. Things were a little different back then. These days I'd probably be hooked up to a deal that would flatline on the nurses' screen if I took it off and they'd know something was up. At the time there were few cameras and pretty much ornamental security. I had to try. I worked the wristband off and walked out with the girls.
 It was an early party because they had to stop at around 10pm because of noise. We got there around 6:45 and they were getting ready to start. They all got huge grins on their faces when we showed up unannounced. The other drummers were looking at the song list with an "I don't know about this shit" look on their faces, and I think they were as glad as anyone to see me there. I made pleasantries and got behind my kit to adjust things. The rest of the guys were looking at me grinning and shaking their heads. They all knew that if I found out about the party I'd want to be there, and that I was a hellion and minor surgeries couldn't stop me, so they had an informal bet as to whether I'd be there if I found out. Jon and Bert thought there was no way in hell I'd show. Randy thought I might but O' was pretty sure I'd show. He won. That's my boy.
 We started the set and played over an hour. The plan was to play two long sets. There were a couple of guys on acoustic who were really good so we figured we'd take a long break and let them play in between sets. It was a great first set and I couldn't help but reflect on the fact that I was supposed to be in a hospital bed staring at the TV. This was much better. I was feeling some minor discomfort but nothing too bad. Our most intense stuff was still to come though. O's brother Michael, who was my buddy and a hell of a prince of a guy, had just had some surgery himself. He noticed that I was wincing a bit, so he offered me a pill. It was Demerol. He'd been given those while he was in the hospital. He'd pretend to take them but he stashed them in a teddy bear. I thought that was classic. He gave one to me.
 We figured we'd take about a 25-minute or so break. Our usual routine on breaks was to go out and "get a breath of fresh air" and I figured a puff or two wouldn't hurt. On the way out I ran into a girl who happened to have the same name as me. She was amazing. We'd casually hung out a bit and I really wanted to date her but I wasn't sure she wanted to. Turns out she did. I can't exactly remember how it got to that point, because I was a tad high, but next thing I knew we were in her car and she was performing a service on me that I won't say, but one term for it is represented by two letters of the alphabet and another is the part of the body that sits atop the neck and shoulders. I had to check to make sure I hadn't popped a stitch after that but I was just fine. I didn't tell her I'd just had surgery and luckily she didn't notice the scar. I'd managed to get the bandage off. I doubt what happened would've happened if she'd known. She wouldn't have wanted to hurt me. I saw her more and I told her one night and she gave me a pop on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me you'd just had surgery" she asked. "Did you really think I would?" I asked. "Well...probably not" she agreed.
 I knew I wouldn't be able to make it to the end of the party but of course I pushed it as far as I could. I still managed to play about another hour. I handed over the sticks with maybe half an hour to go. We played all the crazy shit and the other guys would have no problem finishing out on some tunes they knew. I left the party at around quarter-til, and that was cutting it close. We pulled up right at ten. I thanked the girls and blew kisses and headed in. It was after visiting hours but nobody bothered me. I got back to the room maybe two minutes before the nurse came in with my 10:00 shot. "You doing okay?" she asked."Great, thanks" I said. "You good too?" I asked. "Yep. You get some rest." " Okay. See ya."
 There's a local station that's been playing M*A*S*H reruns at 10pm for about 40 years, so if the TV was on you always knew it was 10:00 without looking at a clock. Lots of people watched it and I heard the theme song coming from another room just as I entered mine, and I hoped I wouldn't walk in and see the nurse holding up a shot but with no one to stick it in. Luckily she was a minute or two late. I sat there as the shot kicked in, on top of Michael's little gift. As I said things were different back then, and believe it or not you could smoke in hospital rooms. I'd brought along my pinch-hitter and some choice flower in case I got really bored. Back then the windows would actually open too, and so I hit a few bats and looked at the city lights. I had to laugh at what had taken place over the last four hours.
 I'd gotten to play a great gig and I'd hooked up in a big way with a girl I was really interested in. The morphine had really kicked in so I laughed some more. That had been a true adventure, and the best thing about it was that it was totally unplanned. Oh, and they handed me a hundred-dollar bill on my way out. Back then that wasn't a bad amount of money. We actually made $150 each but I docked myself $50 and told them to split it between the other drummers for giving up their time to help us out, not to mention moving my drums. They were pretty happy about that. Well, that's my appendix story. I'll put it up against anyone's.

British/Tourettes Knock-Knock Joke

"Knock, knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Your mum. Ha-ha, fuck-off."

Quote of the Day

"Why Walmart got these old-ass people at the door like they actually gon' chase me?" 😂  - Laa Laa, on Facebook