We don't have too many choices here in my neighborhood.

You might want to hang out with the boys at the PREMTIME Sports Cafe. While you're sitting there sipping your favorite libation, you can contemplate some of life's more profound questions -like who the bigger moron is: the guy who told the sign painter how to spell PRIMETIME, or the guy who actually painted the sign……

Or, you could walk across the street and have a few at this classic:

That's right folks! 'This Month Only!'

What the fuck?

'I'll be drinking for 'This Month Only?'

'We plan on staying in business for 'This Month Only?'

'I'm dressing in drag for 'This Month Only?'

The beer sure is cheap though…………

By the way, I don't know what the 1540 means either. It sure as shit isn't the address….

Then, a mere two blocks up the street, there's this place. You'd think from the name that it's Irish; as in 'O'Malleys', or O'Shaughnessys' But it's not. It's 'O PATIO.' I don't know about you, but I've never known an Irishman named O'Patio.

Oh well, at least you can sit out on the O Patio's patio on sunny summer afternoons when you should be working, knowing fully well that the boss will never see you.

Yes, your East European neighbors up the street were a lot more hip than you gave them credit for!

Occasionally, I'll run into someone who knows me from a past life, when I used to play guitar for a living. Sometimes, I'll get a comment like 'Holy shit Joe, you play the banjo too? Man, you can play anything!

Uh……. not really…..

I can barely play the banjo. I'm competent on the guitar, but knowledgeable enough to realize what I CAN'T do.

"Oh Joe, You're just being modest."

No I'm not. There's a certain amount of wisdom one develops after spending many years closely involved with something. You begin to see what you are capable of, but more importantly, where your desires lay.

(more…)

This idea could apply to practically any genre of music, but rock and roll is what I grew up with, so it's gonna be my benchmark………

When I was young and stupid (stupid-er than I am now) I went through that rite of passage that all kids who like music go through, -namely, arguing about who was the best band/singer/guitarist, etc., etc., in the known universe.

Then -as now- music was such a big part of kids lives, that who, or what you listened to helped define who you were.

I guess I was a rocker. Of course, there were brief stints into things like 'hippie land', 'electronica' and all sorts of other crap, but through it all, I kept returning to my Rolling Stones records. 

Eventually, I went on to discover punk, but that was a few years later………..

However there were certain rock bands that I never really cared for. Led Zeppelin, for instance. Robert Plant's voice used to (and still does) drive me up the fucking wall.

Then, there were those bands that I like to refer to as 'Rock n' Roll Assassins.' These were the bands that tried to sneak in the back door, disguised as counterculture avatars, but ultimately, either bored you to tears, or pissed you off so much, you'd smash the record.

(more…)

(warning: Professional driver on a closed course. Any attempts at duplicating these results will immediately render your warranty null and void)

According to Health and Welfare Canada, as well as the Surgeon General in America, we're getting fatter and fatter all the time.

Apparently, this is not good.

What strikes me as ironic, is that every time I go into a grocery store to buy some food, I'm overwhelmed with choices I've gotta make concerning the various levels of fat, salt, carbohydrates, etc., etc.

Jesus, I don't even know what a carbohydrate is!

Do you see where I'm going here? My point is, is that never have we been more knowledgeble about what we put into our bodies, yet never have we had such problems with obesity, high blood pressure, heart disease, -to mention but a few.

I suspect that people are lulled into a false sense of thinking that "because I'm eating 'diet' ice cream, it's O.K. to inhale the whole fucking gallon………"

(more…)

A couple of days ago, I ran into an old acquaintance. I won't say 'friend' -I hardly know this person, but we've talked before.

It was late, I was in a bar, and as I was leaving, we shook hands. He palmed off a little package -you know, like Sharon Stone in 'Casino', tipping the parking lot attendants.

At the time, I thought it was pot, which I don't smoke, so I surreptitiously put it into my back pocket, thinking I'd give it to one of my associates who do.

It's really bad form to try to give drugs back, especially, when someone has slipped them to you on the sly………

Anyhow, like I said, I had completely forgotten 'it', until I put my pants on the next morning.

Digging through my pocket, I pulled out the packet and opened it up.

Hmmmmmm……………………

It certainly wasn't weed.

"I think I know what this is………….. better have a little tase to be sure…………"

I touched my finger to it, and put it on my tongue.

"Yep. I thought so………."

'Well,' I thought, 'I can't have this stuff lying around, I had better get rid of it immediately.'

So, without further ado, I 'processed' it.

What a fucking big mistake. it wasn't what I thought it was at all. Well maybe it was, in part, but obviously something else had been added to it.

About two minutes later, I instinctively knew what that something else was.

My central nervous system became supercharged, like there was a tingling electric vibration running through it.

I suddenly had the urge to DO SOMETHING!! ANYTHING!!!

Fuck.

I spent five hours running around my apartment cleaning everything that I could possibly imagine.

My place was fucking spotless.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

So 'what's the moral of the story, Joe?'  You ask?

Well, first and foremost, it's 'Sometimes, even your friends will try to kill you with kindness', and secondly, its 'JUST SAY 'NO' TO FEATHER DUSTERS!!!

Sorry I haven't been keeping up my regiment of monumental posts, but I've been quite busy lately.

I'm trying to figure out how to use my new camera, I had to do a bunch of grocery shopping, and beyond that, I've just been playing lots of banjo.

Uh………….. sober?

WRONG!

Hungover!!!

Walking Boss

O.k……….. Imagine this, if you will:

It's 1949, and life is good. You're a 29 year old WWII vet., who has returned from the war healthy, and settled down with your wife and two kids. You've managed to make a decent down payment on a home, and you've even managed to buy a slightly used, bright red, 1948 ford convertible.

In short, life is pretty good.

Sundays, you like to take the wife and kids out for drives through the countryside, while your push-button car radio plays the songs of the day. The kids like to sing along to the lastest big hit "Ghost Riders in the Sky", and sometimes, when the latest Perry Como song comes across the airwaves, the wife joins in.

This particular Sunday, is just like the rest, just what you expected it to be, -which is why you do this every weekend. It's relaxing, and you get to spend some time with your family after a hard weeks work in the plant.

(more…)

I'm not much of a St. Paddy's Day fan -I don't have to have a special day just to get loaded (I've got enough all ready)

Besides, traditionally, St Patricks Day has always been hell if you work in a bar.

It's amateur nite.

You get kids drinking the worst concoctions you could possibly imagine, acting like retards, and, who ultimately wind up puking all over themselves.

You actually DO get people asking for green beer. Or worse, people that whine 'Doooood!! You forgot to draw a shamrock on the top of my Guinness.'

(actually, I put paid to some asshole a couple of years ago by carefully inscribing the words "FUCK YOU." I thought I was pretty crafty, till' one of the busboys one-upped me by drawing hard-ons in the foam on top of the beer they were pouring………)

Having said all that……… here's a fun little challenge from the folks at Mental_Floss: See if you can figure out who the greatest Snake Terminator is. Samuel L Jackson, or St. Patrick (.pdf)

btw: I've actually got the night off this year. I think I'm gonna go out tonight and annoy some bartenders……