Yay, Russ([ell]ty)!

... and ...

Happy Birthday, Larry Munson!

Playing "Happy Birthday" for him five or six years ago is one of my favorite memories.

Stupid Question Day

I would like to warn all those I will see this Friday that I fully intend to celebrate Stupid Question Day. It's about damn time we had a holiday that celebrates one of the more common occurences in real life. Perhaps Congress will get on board and create more relevant celebrations. I propose:

- Walking Backwards In a Crowd Without Looking First Day
- Saying "Bring On the Gators" When the Game Is Still One Month Away Day
- Pulling Your Goaltender When You're Riding a Fifty-One Game Win Streak Day
- Smoking Marijuana Before A Court-Mandated Drug Test Day

I never appreciated the smartass advice of one too many self-amusing dads from my childhood when they would say, "There are no stupid questions, just stupid people." There are stupid questions, and my favorite is:

"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"

BamaDay Bullets

• I have been in a funk all week because of a minor but extremely painful medical hiccup. No, not hemorrhoids again. And no, I'm not having another outbreak. But it has left me in a bad mood, and when I'm in a bad mood nothing goes right. Fortunately for today, I am not in a bad mood.

• I wonder if they have HGTV in HDTV.

• I see no reason why clapper-activated audible alarms are not factory-installed in the following items to facilitate their easy location:

- Keychains
- Remote Controls
- Wallets

And now it occurs to me that the reason why is because it would create a cacophony at sporting and performing arts events.

• From dictionary.com:

cacophony - 1656, from Gk. kakophonia, from kakophonos "harsh sounding," from kakos "bad, evil" + phone "voice" (see fame). Kako- was a common prefix in Gk., and has often crossed over into Eng., e.g. cacography, the opposite of calligraphy (q.v.). Etymologists connect it with PIE *kakka- "to defecate."

I have long suspected that this was true, but never realized it until... well, just now.

• Now that my insurance company has paid me what they owe me, one of these is in my immediate future as well. It is long overdue.

• It's not really any big secret that I am not a fan of the press. Come to think of it I'm not a fan of a lot of things, including the press, government, or people in general really. Wow, I'm not really sure I'm not in a bad mood.

Aaaaaaaaanyway... My contempt for the press was further justified this week as I listened to ESPN report as fact that CMR was closing practice because he was worrying about Saban spying. He clearly stated that he was doing so more out of concern for revelations resulting from the reports of well-meaning observers, rather than because of any specific external threat. I'm not sure he's telling the whole truth, but I grew tired of ESPN offering editorial commentary regarding his true motivation as fact. But boy it sure does make for a much more interesting game, which happens to be on ESPN and ESPNHD at 7:45 ET tonight, now doesn't it?

And gosh, I don't see any reason why Coach Richt should do anything other than trust that Coach Saban is on the up and up.

Alabama has sold its soul. Rarely before have I wished this badly for the Dawgs to win and win big. Rarely before have I hoped this much that there is a Hell.

Did you ever have one of those days when nothing seemed to go the way it was supposed to?

TV

Over the past several years, I have refused to participate in very much "appointment television" viewing. I have tried, with moderate success, to keep up with American Idol simply because its contents impact my field of business. I catch The Office when I can because it is hilarious and can be enjoyed without extensive knowledge of the events of past episodes. Otherwise, my tendency to travel a lot and the fact that I didn't have a DVR compelled me not to become engaged in any television series that required my regular viewing in order to enjoy it.

When I moved, I decided it was finally time to pay the extra few bucks a month for a DVR. Meghan and I also dove headfirst into prior seasons of two shows which the DVR would allow me to see, without fear of missing significant developments. We completed the first season of Heroes in about four days and loved it. We are currently halfway through season two of Lost (which she has already seen). I had beeen told that I would enjoy this show, but I had no idea.

At a time when television is perceived to be getting worse, these shows in particular buck the trend and are totally worth the time I have spent watching them. The company doesn't hurt either.

I would hate to go an entire week without blogging, and I would be in danger of doing so if I didn't write within the next few hours. I guess I don't have quite as much time to write these days as I did a few scant months ago, and that is just fine with me. Things are good though... the dawgs are good, the tunes are good, the girl is good. And that, friends, means life is good.

Wake up!

It's as though I have been asleep for eight months. And just this morning, that feeling in the pit of my stomach became something much more serious. Today is Friday, and tomorrow is Satidy. And - remember this phrase - not just any Satidy.

I have told you before how much this sport means to me, and if I care for you very much then you probably feel the same way. Somehow, I think in May or June of every year that I will somehow outgrow this obsession, and it never seems to happen... I don't think it ever will.

Here in Athens, traffic has stiffened over the last day-and-a-half. Here in Meghan's living room, the smell of her pre-gameday creations has exploded through the apartment (red velvet cupcakes with chocolate chips!). In Atlanta, friends are calling to finalize plans and the reponsibilities for tailgating supplies. Smiles, eyebrows, and pulses are raised all over town, and the normally quiet parts of the day have been replaced with non-stop frenzy. Athens is buzzing and so am I, with as much brilliance as in any year before.

It's as though I have been asleep for eight months. But tomorrow is Saturday, and now I am wide awake. I hope you are too.

Bom Chicka What?

I realize that no one who reads this blog has ever viewed pornographic material. I am sure, however, that many of you know someone who has, and that most of that many are familiar with the cliche musical motive from the High Music that is pornographic film score.

During a "slow" moment at summer camp, someone presented a couple of commercials that parodied that motive. There are posted below for your pleasure (more or less safe for work, unless you work at a convent):





After viewing these and a European version from the same campaign which used a different version of this motive, a debate ensued regarding the exact spelling and pronunciation of the motive. Due to the inherent handicap in attempting to orally dictate (he he) the performance of an instrument, the debate has never been resolved. It has however resulted in some interesting, and often downright ridiculous, interpretations of the lick (he he).

I do not understand how I have gotten this far into the entry (he he) without using the word "seminal."

Aaaaaaaaaanyway...

At some point, someone with an idle mind and a bit too much free time wondered aloud what the version of the motive might sound like for specific styles of porn. Some of the answers are below. You may provide your own if you wish:

- Urologist Porn = "Bow Chicka Wee-wee"
- Cheerleader Porn = "Boom Chicka Rah-Rah"
- Belinda Carlisle Porn = "Bow Chicka Go-Go"
- Dog-lover Porn = "Bow Chick Chihuahua"
- Fozzy Bear Porn = "Bow Chicka Wocka Wocka"
- Georgia Bulldog Porn = "Bow Chicka Woof Woof"

K.

If you don't think...

the Gators are bad for the SEC, bad for fashion or the future of taste in commercial music, and simply bad for America, then you clearly haven't seen this video. Before you listen/watch, have a trash can and a bottle of PediaLyte ready. It is a truly horrible combination of portions of Grease and the B-52's' "Love Shack," bred with the worst imaginable subject matter.

Kkhhhokay…

As mentioned below, I am in Athens and basically settled. I have moved into a duplex apartment in the same neighborhood in which I lived in my last five years in town.

There are some unusual sensations that have occasionally bubbled up in the early days of my return. Living here and not having an affiliation with the university is unusual if welcome. Living in a seemingly suddenly altered version of a town, to whose changes I previously had been too close to observe, scrambles my sense of space. And in perhaps the cheapest but most palpable sense, living in an apartment with the reverse floor plan of my old home sometimes makes this feel like a bit of a Bizarro Athens.

And I think Bizarro Athens is a fitting way to say it. For me, it is a version of Athens in which I am not so busy that I can’t think. It’s a version of Athens in which I can genuinely enjoy living rather than paddling with all of my might most of the time. This version of Athens contains a lot of history but few ties, a lot of potential but few demands. It is also the site, for me, of contentment rather than panic, and love rather than need. If it is Bizarro Athens, I prefer it in many ways to the original.

As I reread that, I realize that that is a bit unfair to suggest that I was lonely the last time I lived here. You know what I mean.

The longer I am alive, the more clearly I hear screams of testimony from those who know the truth that still sounds like a whisper to me: Life is too short not to do what makes you happy. That is exactly what I am doing. It seems to be working.

In Athens.
I'm almost as tired as I am happy.
Move in on Monday.
Ow.

Overdue Relief for the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love

Those of you who have been to my home at any point in the last seven years or so may recall the existence of some incarnation of what has most recently been known as the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love (which, incidentally, is the companion item to the Gigantic Trash Can of Death). When I moved to Nashville in 2005, the weight of the bucket was such that its relocation required a furniture dolly. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to moving it again.

Late on Saturday, M made a very welcome pseudo-surprise trip to Nashville to bring some semblance of order to my life and belongings as she helped me pack for my impending move back to Athens. After some discussion, we decided against a socially embarassing, financially costly, and potentially chiropractically disastrous trip to the local Coinstar machine. Instead, we counted and rolled the contents of the Gigantic Change Bucket of Love. I had estimated the value of the contents to be approximately four-hundred dollars U.S.

After approximately eight total hours of rolling coins, which was accompanied by the broadcast of approximately two Braves games and one episode of the Daily Show, the rollable payload of the vessel was calculated to be $417.50. After adding the one-dollar coins (to which I repeatedly insisted on erroneously referring as "Dollar Bill Coins"), the total booty came to $434.50.

Big plans are being made for the windfall, one of which involves food and one of which involves strings and country music (And no, I am not bringing back Jessi, the Sexually Ambiguous Gospel Puppet). Below is a photo of the bottom of the bucket in case you haven't seen it. It is unlikely that you will see it again for the next several years, so look while you can.

• My utilities have all been moved to the new residence. If you try to reach me at 615-VERMIN-7, you will get a disconnected message.

• I saw DCI Quarters last night in the theatre, and was mostly pleasantly surprised at the creativity and level of performance. Having never marched, taught, or judged the activity, here are my brief impressions:

- Crown is on the edge of competing for a title. I am thrilled to have watched its rise.
- I will be interested to see what is next for the Academy.
- I have personally grown tired of some of the more formulaic designs that repeated themselves this year.
- I think horn lines, as a rule, are not playing enough. I have felt this way since Denver.
- The Cadets show made me feel weird. I agree with pulling the corps for lines, and I think the booing was unacceptable and a bad sign for the future of drum corps.

• I am as happy as I remember being.

• After getting my oil changed and tires rotated, picking up some boxes and visiting with family, I am going to see this group at Russell's request. This means that I have to go to the Williamson County Fair, one of a type of event that I have always thought was inappropriately named in the same way that the abbreviation for Oklahoma "could be better."

• Knibb High School Football rules.

On my way back from lunch

Sorry (kinda) for the prolonged break. I am finished teaching for the foreseeable future, almost finished writing, and I'm getting ready to pack some boxes and back up the G*&*%$#@&*ed truck yet again. Life is as busy as I remember it post-RCB, and that's fine. But it will be nice to breathe for a moment in the near future.

Nashville tomorrow morning. Bouncing between Georgia and Tennessee after that for two weeks. Athens on 8/20.

Meaningful blog entry soon. Promise.

No, really.

Also, it occured to me in the middle of rehearsal tonight that Erroll Garner and Johnny Burke were writing about stalking the object of the song "Misty."

• This photograph was taken (poorly) at the camp I'm teaching in Clint0n, S. Car0lina. I like to call it "What Time Is It In Clint0n, Madame Prime Minister."



• The webcam at the camp I'm teaching.

Brevity via Bullets

I could ramble for days about the current contents of my mind, but there is simply no time. Here are glimpses without much substance. I hope to return to full emotional nudity in about two weeks.

• I am about two solid days from being finished with arranging and drill work for a while. I have never been more ready for some time away.

• My official unofficial relocation date will be August 11, 2007.

• I am concerned and confused about Ron Mexico's current debacle. On one hand, it seems like we fail to learn from the situations that should have taught us about the dangers of presumed guilt. If you know what an indictment is, then you know that no guilt has been proven. On the other, I have to think that the NFL has pretty good reason to believe that something is up.

If he's guilty, I want him to spend the rest of his life in a cage. If not, I want him to learn how to throw and how to keep his middle finger retracted as he leaves the field of play.

• After a couple of days in Athens starting on Wednesday, the activities on tap include two band camps and one wedding. As much as I don't miss having to live it every day, I do miss teaching very much. M and I spent a bit of time talking about that this weekend, and it began to occur to me how much of who I once was sits almost completely dormant for all but 1.5 weeks per year. I'm not sure that's how that's supposed to be.

• I am thinking that a post-rush trip to Ikea is in my future. Desk.

• I am also beginning to think that I may be a better cook than I have given myself credit for being.

• I lost near my entire music catalog to the jackasses that robbed me. The bad news is that I have to pay to replenish it. The good news is that I can replenish it however I choose. I am open to suggestions of individual tunes, full albums, or entire genres that may not necessarily have been on my "most played" playlist. Among the list of things of which I didn't have enough the first time are Beethoven piano works, Delbert McClinton, Pink Floyd, Nanci Griffith, Radiohead, Steve Reich and company, latin jazz, and Stephen Sondheim. You know what to do.

• Life remains incredibly good. So much to tell you, so much work to do, and miles to go before... whatever.

New Smile

I spent a long weekend working, watching drum corps, meeting friends new and old, and being comfortable in Athens. Other than meeting Meghan's sister (who reminds me significantly of an old friend that many of us knew through marriage, adore to death, but don't get to see anymore) and brother-in-law, there weren't too many out-of-the-ordinary details that warrant publication.

That, for me, is the most enjoyable thing about all of this; that the otherwise seemingly mundane is anything but. Though there will be singular moments in the future, I suspect that the time I will continue to most appreciate is the clockwork moment on the walk through the parking lot into Target when the space between my fingers is slowly filled by those of someone who matters. The arms then sway, the pace advances into something dangerously close to a skip, and the boring task ahead becomes secondary to what "the pleasure of the company at hand" describes insufficiently.

As I was driving back to Nashville last night, I was singing along to one of the CD's that have been the staples of my travel listening since the begining of June. Somewhere around exit 300 on I-75 North, I noticed that I was singing full volume, which I tend not to do. Then I noticed that my voice seemed to match perfectly the timbre and intonation of the vocalists on the recording, which never happens. And then I noticed that I was smiling an unreserved, non-manufactured smile that I don't remember smiling before. That probably tells you all you need to know.

It is hokey, campy, and mushy, with puppy dogs, rainbows, green grass, and probably an effing leprechaun thrown in for good measure. And for once, that doesn't seem to bother me... except for the leprechaun, which is downright creepy.

Belated Bullets

This truly is the busy season, and there simply hasn't been a lot of time in which to update. There is a lot going on, however, so I revert to the much duplicated bullets.

• The insurance claim on the burglary is underway, and I expect to be able to replace the computer with something more practical. The Playstation will likely not be replaced, unless Kip wants to loan me his. Otherwise it looks like everything is going to be fine, with the exception of the lost effort and time and a few pissed off band directors.

• Well, that's not entirely true. Another result is that I am far busier than I wish I were right now. I lost several days worth of work, and I suppose that's just tough.

• My family is engaged in a slow migration north. My brother and his wife and kids just moved to Nashville last week. In fact, my sister-in-law has recently become an avid reader of this little journal. Hi, T@nnis!!!! (I'm not sure that she knows that I know that.)

• Just as this migration is happening, I think I am going to change venue myself. My family has been gracious enough to offer me spare rooms in their homes for the next year, while my apartment manager seems to think that I would like to pay $30/month more for a property that clearly isn't safe. Not happening. So, if you want to find me after August 15, you will need to look in Nashville and Athens. But it is a better idea to call my cell phone rather than look. I have been known to be rather stealthy.

I plan to return to Nashville full-time in a year. Stop worrying. Now. I swear I am a big boy, even though I don't always act like it.

• The previous bullet offers news of a pretty significant change. That's certainly not the only one. In the last ten days, I have also acquired a new belt, a new pair of sunglasses, a new cell phone, and two (2) new pairs of jeans. Strange days, indeed. Most peculiar, Mama. (Sorry, Mr. Lennon)

Oh, and I am growing my hair out.

• More than most things in the world, I truly wish that I had ready access to a recorded performance of the "Du, du, duhh" sound effect that they play on Jeopardy which indicates that no contestant has responded in time. I could make sooooo much use of this, mostly toward myself.

• Ok, ok. Gunner called yesterday. Based on the previous entry, he theorized that I had gotten a dog. Well, I haven't.

"Someone who matters" is named Meghan. She loves football. She cooks like Paula Deen. She can kick my ass. She likes things clean and organized. She seems to believe in the truth, spoken as sarcastically or brutally as necessary to get the point across. She is a musician and a teacher. She is a Georgia Bulldog, by God. She is a brilliant combination of beautiful, smart, funny, cynical, hopeful, and compassionate. She is none too aware of any of the above. She also happens to like me.

Believe me, the feeling is mutual.

I have been trying to be cool and pretend that I am not excited about this. It clearly isn't working. As I write, I have a grin on my face that wraps all the way around my head... well, and it's there pretty much all the time right now. But to keep on telling you about it would be to pretend that I could tell you how amazing this feels. But I can't.

Anyway, between being completely busy with work, completely distracted in the most pleasant of possible ways, and completely over dealing with the minutiae of an insurance claim and a temporary change of scenery, I now appear to be the one who isn't updating. I'm kinda sorry, and I'm kinda not.