The Agony of Marching Band

I despised marching band. I know not many people share my sentiment on that and everyone I ever meet has nothing but good, jolly memories of their tenure in high school marching band.

Not me. It was hell on earth. (Then again, I hated all of high school, so what do I know?)

Even before my freshman year started, we had to get up early every morning and go to band practice. But it was all outside and more like football than anything music-related (I was actually in football in junior high for three days...but that's a story for another time.).

On the field, in the blistering heat of the last days of summer, we were forced to learn how to march (like good little soldiers), and suffered drill after drill until we got it right. Me? Apparently, I wasn't ever a good marcher, because the cruel dictator band teacher had all of these teacher's pet band seniors tap you on the shoulder when they thought you were good enough to go rest. Invariably, I was always the last one on the field, marching to my own beat while the "band bullies" laughed at my efforts. (Overweight and not very graceful at that point, I was an easy target).

Let's back up a second... I hear some of you saying "band bullies? There are no such thing! Everyone knows that the kids in band were all geeks!"

True enough. But even band geeks had their hierarchal system where they would try to demean and beat down those they found even lower than them in the high school picking order. And bullying always runs down hill. Bullies originate from being bullied themselves. And I was the band geek's target. Shows you how much I ranked in high school! The meaner ones called me names, openly humiliated me, threatened me with violence (there was a particularly evil, pimply-faced drummer), while most just chose to ignore me.

But that wasn't even the worst part of band. During junior high, I was a relatively decent alto saxophone player. And it was okay. I didn't have to march and there, everyone in band seemed on a pretty even keel. But once the hallowed hellish halls of high school tried to suck me into its vast black hole of despair, marching made me truly despise band.

When the weather turned cold, there we were out on the fields every morning at 6:00 am, tromping through rain, mud, and snow. By the time I got off the field and into my first class, I'd be either freezing from being rain-soaked or from sweat or both. Probably not a pretty sight nor smell.

And the dictator who taught the class absolutely hated me. Why? Because I wasn't the "golden boy" my older brother was who he had loved when he was a "marching band star." The teacher even resorted to insulting me and calling me names as well. (Okay, sure, I missed the bus ride the band took one weekend for an out-of-town game and that pissed him off, but I honestly had the departure time off by one hour. An honest mistake....or WAS it?)

The following Monday the teacher confronted me (in front of the entire class, natch). There he humiliated me and ordered me to write a fifty page paper on a classical composer. Being the apathetic student I was back then, I didn't comply and flunked the class.

My dad was appalled. Having played overseas in an army band (saxophonist extraordinaire, of course), he just couldn't understand how in the world I could flunk band.

Finally, he took pity on me and let me drop it (under the pretense that my other grades would improve. They didn't, not for another year when I learned I was about to flunk out if I didn't turn my act around).

So let this be a cautionary tale to you, boys and girls! Stay far, far, FAR away from marching band. Don't give in to the terrorism of the band geek toughs! If you're a geek (who will eventually rule the world, you just have to survive high school), then get into theatre. There, if you're a straight guy (so a friend told me), you won't have ANY competition for the theatre girls.

Speaking of high school hell, check out my Tex, the Witch Boy trilogy. It's a supernatural, murder mystery, suspense, horror, comedy, romance, topical issues series that is often loosely autobiographical (excluding the serial killers and witchcraft elements, natch). You can find all the madness and fun here!

Anti-Easter Celebration!

With Halloween recently passed (and the nightmarish election having been held), I thought this would be the perfect time of year for a heart-warming Easter greeting.

Nah...not really...

But I have an old college friend, who is a card-carrying atheist, who every Easter conducts a ritual that warms the black cockles of his atheist heart. And it makes me giggle.

Each Easter holiday, my pal chooses to go to the Walmart in the most bible-thumping, Trump-fist-bumping Kansas county (and the selection is HUGE), and visits the Easter candy aisle. There he proceeds to turn all of the chocolate crosses upside down, thus giving Satan due diligence.

He has a routine--a well-practiced one--where he busies his free hand idly picking up something, while the devilish hand flips the cross. He prefers to finish the entire chocolate cross display (at least the candy crosses in front), thus making his definitive statement. And every time, he fervently hopes he won't be caught in the act. (I have to wonder what the punishment would be if he was caught? Who knows? In this redneck, bible-hurling, evangelical county, they might reintroduce the Mike Pence Gallows™.)

I truly wish I could be a fly on the wall when the holier-than-thou patrons (and employees) discover my buddy's annual holiday tribute to sacrilege. I wonder if the poor beleaguered manager is assailed by an angry mob who vows never to shop at his Walmart again. Or if they picket the store (because everyone knows that Walmart is EVIL anyway). I lay awake at night, chuckling, just imagining the various scenarios when the blasphemous chocolate display is discovered. Might they go as far as to bring out an Easter cam next year?

I don't know, but I hope my devilish friend keeps up the good work (by the way, he's also one of the nicest guys I know).

This got me wondering about the "true" meaning of the upside-down cross. My first encounter with it, of course, was the film The Exorcist in the 70's. There, Linda Blair kept having it turned upside-down over her bed by presumably satanic forces, not to mention *ahem* other unmentionable things.

Online, I found two wildly disparate explanations for the symbol. In Christianity, particularly Catholicism, the upside-down cross is meant to represent the humility of Peter, who wanted to be crucified upside-down because he wasn't worthy of dying like Jesus had. That's the pope's story and he's sticking to it.

However, popular culture, particularly in recent times, has adopted it as a symbol of anti-Christianity or Satanism. YOU be the judge!

So, if my pal ever gets popped into jail for his blasphemous anarchy, this is a surefire court defense. "Hey, if it's good enough for the Pope, it's good enough for me." (Then again, traditional back county Kansas Christians sorta always sneer at Catholics, so cue the Mike Pence Gallows™ again!).

While I'm waxing over all things satanic, check out my darkly comical horror novel, Demon With a Comb-Over. In it, a hapless stand-up comedian runs afoul of a demon by making fun of a demon's comb-over. Things go really downhill fast after that, so downhill, the tale ends in a confrontation in Hell. Check out all the macabre fun here!

A Mere Five Days...

That's all it's gonna take, a measly five days to determine if our country is going down the toilet or if we avoid a catastrophic disaster the likes we've never seen. And of course, at the center of this debacle is an orange-tinted, whiny, lying, childish, arrogant, stupid, convicted felon, raping racist.

Tough words, sure, but they can't be refuted.

I've had this growing pit of dread in my gut ever since Trump announced his candidacy (Even though he's been campaigning ever since he lost the last election.). I honestly can't imagine democracy will survive four more years of orange turmoil and chaos and hatred and divisiveness.

I have a Trump-supporting friend who says he doesn't like the name-calling of politics and is a "policy guy." There's absolutely nothing wrong with this in theory and it's admirable.

But...but...when it comes to Trump, I have to ask, WHAT POLICY? All the guy does is lie, rant, yell, spread anger wherever he goes like some demented satanic Santa Claus, and call people names. The closest Trump's ever come to discussing policy is when he said "I have the concept of a plan for health care."

Really? How decisive! THIS is the clown that over half the country wants to see run our country? Run it straight into the ground, maybe.

This is a guy who has no clue that his favorite song at his KKK rallies is a gay anthem by the Village People.

Let me just remind everyone of some of Donnie Trump's spectacular past adventures...

While in office, Trump suggested nuking hurricanes. Um...yeah, good thinking, Don. SCIENCE!

During the height of Covid (of which he downplayed for political reasons, indirectly causing the potentially avoidable deaths of a lot of people), Don thought injecting bleach would be a good idea.

To show support of those who died in battle fighting for our country, Don called the fallen "losers."

At a recent rally for racism, Don lost his train of thought and decided to sway his arms for forty minutes to music. So...so...sooooooo presidential.

He addressed a group of black journalists and managed to piss them off by suggesting Kamala Harris wasn't black. Talk about knowing your audience...

Trump wanted to build a moat between Mexico and the United States and populate it with crocodiles and deadly snakes. (This reminds me of the kid in sixth grade who ran for student council based on his promise to put Coke in the water fountains.)

This was the "president" who mocked a handicapped reporter.

Donnie constantly lies and his recent example of immigrants eating cats and dogs is a shining example.

Rape, sexual assault, grabbing women by the p@$$y...Sigh... Remember the "Big Controversy" over Jimmy Carter "lusting after women in his heart?" Hell, at this point, I'd even welcome back George W. Bush with great love.

Trump calls anyone who doesn't step in line with his fascist beliefs stupid and "an enemy" and he's threatened to unleash the military on them. Can detainment camps for "liberals" be next?

The list goes on and on, but remember, he's the only president in history who unleashed a dangerous mob on our nation's capitol based on his ludicrous lies and inability to accept defeat. Talk about a sore loser.

In five days, it's time to vote. The important thing is to vote. But I sincerely hope you won't vote for Trump. Frankly, I don't understand who would want to. Or why.

Not only is he a danger to our country, but potentially the world.

No wonder I drink.

VOTE.

The Roof of a Dog's Mouth

When I was a kid, our family would go "dog shopping (we never considered getting a rescue dog; I'm not sure if it was a "thing" back then or if my parents stubbornly refused to do so, because it was "low class," but we never did)." So we'd go into strangers' houses and look at their litter of puppies, always cocker spaniels.

First thing my dad did was wrestle a dog, wrangle its jaws wide open, and look at the color of the dog's roof of its mouth. Of course, the dogs never liked that one bit and the puppy vendors were always mortified.

My dad explained, "I heard that if the roof of a dog's mouth is black, it's a really smart dog. That guy there is our dog!"

Not sure how scientifically sound Dad's theory was, I came to doubt it based on the not very bright behavior of some of our dogs.

So I turned to my research assistant, Ms. Google, for corroboration. To which she gladly obliged...

Theresa, a cat vet of 19 years (and why exactly is she being quoted about a dog question?), says "the color on the roof of the mouth is just pigment. It has no meaning at all. It doesn't determine intelligence or breed, yet people in the past thought the more dark in the mouth, the better the breed, but this is just an old wives tale."

Okay, fair enough. But I started wondering just how in hell such a myth got started in the first place. Did a bunch of bored farmers' wives gather around the kitchen with their dogs to try to outdo one another?

"Say, Myrtle, look at the roof of my dog's mouth! It's black!"

"I swan, it sure is, Esther, but what in the world does it mean?"

"Why, Myrtle! EVERYONE knows that it's a sign that you gotcher self a smart dog!"

"Hmmph...I guess ol' Keester here ain't so smart after all. Lookee at the pink on the upside of his mouth."

(Later Myrtle and Esther were mauled--Siegfried and Roy style--by their dogs for wrenching their mouths open.)

While the origin of this ridiculous myth is "lost to the ages," a lot of people online have heard of it, especially hunters and old-time farmers. Of course, things could be worse: an Asian myth is that some dog breeds have blue tongues to ward off evil spirits.

Speaking of goofy myths and evil spirits, you'll find a slew of them in my horror story collection, Twisted Tales From Tornado Alley. And unlike the old wives tale about a dog's mouth, I swear to you that every tale in my tome is TRUE. Find out how true right here!

4Patriots!

Good grief! (Okay, so it wasn't necessarily "good," but this post is definitely filled with grief!)

The other day I was watching a pay streamer and was inundated with ads (and what's up with that, anyway? If I'm paying for a service, I don't expect to have to watch ads! You hear me, Prime and Max??? But I'm getting a heap of digression all over the place...). But this barrage of ads (over and over and over...) were of a particularly disturbing nature.

4Patriots! "We champion freedom and self-reliance!"

It's the dream website for wacko survivalists! Check it out! (But don't give them your personal info. You'll be sorry!) These particular ads were selling 72-Hour Emergency Survival Food Kits, and they're both delicious and easy to prepare! Best yet, they'll last for 25 YEARS!

I dunno about you guys, but I'm not eating anything that's 25 years old. And just how delicious do you suppose it could be after a quarter of a century?

The website further brags that "every kit contains delicious recipes your grandmother would love." These "stick-to-your-ribs" meals include "America's Finest Mac and Cheese (none of that foreigner mac and cheese either, nosireecatbobtail! It's made with gen-u-ine fake Amurican cheese, the kind that Gramma used to just love slurping down!)," "Creamy Rice and Vegetable Dinner (with Amurican rice, not that oriental stuff, nosir!)," and "Grammy's Sweet Oatmeal (improves by the year, yessir!)."

Yuck. If my choice is to eat this crap or get eaten by zombies, toss me into the zombie pit now.

This website is downright scary, ringing the alarm of paranoia that's becoming more prevalent in America these days, thanks to the so-called state of "political leaders" who're trying to scare you into voting for them. Otherwise, you're going to live in a country that's going to be overrun by fascists. Which is made even more confusing because both sides are calling their opponents "fascists."

What's a person to do?

Why, load up on 25 year old franken-foods and run for the hills, natch! I mean, that's what a true red-white-and-blue "patriot" would do, right?

"4Patriots" should be ashamed of themselves, pandering to peoples' very real fears perpetuated by the lies of politicians over the past eight years or so. Particularly disturbing is 4Patriots "But one, get one FREE generator event" to celebrate "National Preparedness Month (a holiday I hadn't heard of before; but if there's a Hallmark greeting card section of National Preparedness Month at the local drug store, sign me up NOW!)." Maybe it's just me, but...what can a second, unnecessary generator do that the first one can't? Is it just me? It must be just me... Lessee, where's my credit card?

4Patriot has everything that the true patriot could ever want! There's a "Patriot Pure Air Filtration Device" that helps weed out all that unwanted commie air! Dad gum! And don't forget your "Patriot Power Powder Blend," the next best thing to Captain America's Super-Soldier formula! Whammo!

Over the past controversial eight year course, the term "patriot" has become bastardized. According to the Oxford Dictionary, a "patriot" is someone who "vigorously supports their country and is willing to defend it against enemies or detractors." That's fine and dandy, I'm all for it and consider myself a patriot.

However, over the past decade, they may as well addend the official patriot definition to include "...as long as you step in line to the white nationalist agenda, because if you don't, you're a big stoopid face and wrong and a liberal fascist! So I'm taking my 72-hour Emergency Survival Food Kid and going home! So THERE!"

I wonder if when the zombie apocalypse comes, the zombies will eat white nationalists. Hurry up, zombies!

While yakking about zombies, I'd love to promote my zombie survival book (with a big twist, natch), Zombie Rapture, but alas, the publisher folded and the book is currently without a home. A pity, 'cause I really like the book (and I'm not even biased! Mostly. Kinda...)

Cats and Dogs Are On the Menu!

"Immigration...immigration...immigration...immigrants are poisoning the blood of our country...immigration, bla, bla, bla...They're eating the cats and dogs of Springfield..."

 Wait...WHAT?

"Immigrants are eating the pets of Springfield...immigration...immigration...immigration...I love rich, white men...immigration...immigration...bla, bla, bla..."

That's what I THOUGHT he said. Me and millions of others witnessed this latest lunacy and lie amongst Trump's debacle of a debate against Kamala Harris.

I nearly fell asleep listening to Trump rant and rage through his only campaign issue (guess what...yep! Immigration!), until he jolted me awake with his pet eating accusation. That's a fun, new twist!

But, honestly, it's the same ol' tired racism just on steroids. As far back as the 1800's, "Amuricans" have been accusing immigrants (it started with the Chinese population) of eating their pets, merely because there's a difference in skin color. And Trump's out there blatantly floating MARA ("Make America Racist Again"), even though the debate moderator debunked Trump's lie about Haitians eating pets, coming from Springfield, Ohio's city manager himself. Trump doesn't care. Because of his self-serving and dangerous racism and hatred and desire to divide, Springfield's had to evacuate schools and other public facilities due to threats.

Fun!

If the Trump loyalists would wake up and think about it, ALL of us are immigrants of a sort, descended from people from other countries (unless you're a Native American, but that's a tragedy best saved for another rant). And the racists are shamelessly tugging on people's heartstrings, because what's one thing EVERYONE likes and can agree on? PUPPIES AND KITTIES! 

(Me, I prefer the Spaniel Spaghetti and the Kitty Corn Dogs. I kid, I kid!)

Do we really want this racist clown "leading" our country? Leading us straight over a cliff like so many lemmings?

I mean c'mon! Even Taylor Swift, the most powerful person in the world, has endorsed Kamala, so that should speak volumes! (Okay, sure she's a "Psy-Op Agent for Socialism," but she maintains more credibility than, say...rapper Ye, white nationalist Nick Fuentes, and the MyPillow guy, three of Trump's trusted "cabinet members.")

So, this November, make the right call. Please. Now...pass the critter fritters...

Speaking of tall tales and lies, have you read my book, Ghosts of Gannaway? It's a meticulously researched, absolutely 100% true historical account of a doomed Midwest mining town. And everything actually happened! Well...maybe except for the ghosts. But other than that, it's totally true! Kinda...if you sorta ignore the part about the deadly native-american curse, the yellow-eyed fever, the haunted museum, ghosts past and present, a murderous conspiracy, and many other things. But you can read the ENTIRELY TRUE historical, supernatural novel HERE!

Attack of the Brain Cloud...

...or the Revenge of Joe and the Volcano. 

The other day my wife and I were discussing (i.e., arguing; hey, it's our hobby!) about the different ways we handle sleeplessness.

I told her, "when you don't sleep well, you thrive on it."

She disagreed. "Hardly! I don't 'thrive'. I make do and manage."

"Still seems like thriving to me," I muttered. "But when I can't sleep, it's like...a brain cloud lowers down on me."

"First of all, there's no such thing as a 'brain cloud,'" she said. 

"Yes, there is," I insisted. "I might've made it up, but it's very, very real."

"It came from a movie," she said authoritatively.

Humph. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a head jam-packed with worthless and pointless knowledge of movies (which when you come right down to it, probably wouldn't make me a very important and necessary component in the survivor camps during our impending zombie apocalypse.).

But...but...my wife stumped me on this one. "I know of no such movie," I statedtriumphantly. "What movie, pray tell, do you speak of?"

Immediately, she whips out, "Joe and the Volcano."

Silence. Blink. Crickets. More silence. Blinkety-blinky-blink.

"JOE AND THE VOLCANO?" I roar. "Who remembers friggin' Joe and the Volcano? I mean, I kinda think I've seen it, but don't remember anything about it except that it was painfully unfunny and terrible."

"Yes, it was. But that's where 'brain cloud' came from."

Wow. She stymied the Movie Master. This is made more incredible by the fact that at times my wife can't remember the movie we watched last weekend, let alone some obscure 34-year-old bomb  that NO ONE remembers like Joe and the Volcano.

But sure enough, according to Ms. Google, my wife was right (dammit! Gettin' kinda old!). Apparently, Tom Hanks character was diagnosed with an incurable deadly disease known as "brain cloud" which will kill him in several months.

However, Wiktionary (a very, very, VERY credible source, of course) refers to "Brain Cloud" as a very real ailment that causes "the temporary inability to think properly." Other scientists and psychologists refer to it as a nickname for the clouding of consciousness. There's a LOT more boring stuff about this insidious disease that I won't bother you with, but the most stunning aspect of it all is finally--FINALLY!--Joe and the Volcano will be remembered as something other than a terrible bomb and actually contributed to the field of science.

Speaking of really dumb and stupid things, look no further than my Zach and Zora comedy mystery series. If imbecilic humor and outrageous situations and decidedly impolitically correct comedy and  cool murder mysteries are your bag, have a read! Start with Bad Day in a Banana Hammock and spiral on downwards from there! Plus! A brand spankin' new book in the series coming to you some time this century!