Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Wilbur and Us Chapter 4 "Where Oh Where Did My Little Pig Go"

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched Wilbur disappear down the street. Rhea got there in time to see him veer left through a neighbor’s yard about five hundred feet away. Wilbur was still moving as if his tail was on fire, and his ass was catchin’. Rhea cried out my exact thoughts, “We’ll never find him now!” Trying not to let her see my despair I said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.” all the time thinking to myself “damn, how are we going to find, and catch that little son of a bitch?”
Our neighborhood was surrounded by water on two sides. Down the road about 1/3 of a mile to the east was the Genessee River, and across the street Black Creek acted as the boundary line for our neighbor’s back yards. Down the street where Black Creek emptied into the Gennesee, there was a small State owned boat launch, and fishing area. The whole area, with the exception of the boat launch parking lot, and our neighbor’s yards was completely over grown with trees, brush, and tall weeds; a perfect piggy hiding place. Prospects did indeed look grim.
The only thing going in my favor was that I was well acquainted with that stretch of our road, and the boat launch area, because of my dog walking. Unless they escaped, the dogs were confined to our back yard, behind the fence. The only thing they had to look forward to besides escaping was our almost daily walks. One at a time, I would hook them up to the leash, and walk them down to the boat launch parking lot and back. This amounted to about a two mile walk for me, and a chance to sniff the scents for the dogs. Even Tony, with his bad hind legs, and Bluedoe, walking on basically three legs, never turned down the chance to walk and smell the scents.
Bluedoe was a big lovable rottweiler, with terminal cancer that manifested as a huge tumor on his upper front leg. Bluedoe was a birthday gift from Gerry, and Jason her two oldest sons, three years before, because Rhea wanted a rot so badly. It seems that whenever Rhea had her heart set on an animal she wanted, someone would get it for her; I should know, that’s why I was in the mess I was in.
I told Rhea to go finish making supper, and that I would try to locate the pig. I walked down the street to where it looked like he veered off the road. I looked through all of the neighbor’s yards seeking a miniature grousing pig. I ran into a few of my neighbors, and asked each one if by any chance they had seen a little pig go running by. Needless to say, I got quite a few incredulous looks by these neighbors, but no one had seen him.
I worked my way down the street until I reached the last house before the boat launch parking lot. That house was fenced in, so I began combing the tall weeds between the fence, and the parking lot. As I was moving the weeds with my foot to look for Wilbur, a young girl came out of the house and asked me what I was looking for. I told her I was looking for my new baby pig that had escaped, and had run in this general direction. She said “I haven’t seen him, but I think I know where he is”. My ears perked up, “How do you know where he is?” I asked. “I was in my back yard where I could hear snorting on the other side of the fence. I couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be, but I bet it’s your pig foraging for food.” She said. Well that certainly made sense to me. Once Wilbur felt safe enough, he certainly would start snouting around for grub. I thanked the girl, and asked if her mother would mind if we searched back there for Wilbur. “No, we wouldn’t mind at all. Happy hunting!” I went in back between their fence and the creek. It was all covered with bushes, weeds and trees. I knew I would need some help, so I headed back home.
When I got back I told Rhea I had located Wilbur, but now had to catch him. She recommended that I take Toby along to flush him out and hopefully, run him down. That was a good idea, we only had about 45 minutes of sunlight left, and we needed to grab Wilbur before sunset. The over night forecast was mid thirties, and rain, if we didn’t get him tonight, there might be nothing left but a piggy popsicle by the morning. Mitchell, Sean, Jeff, me, and Toby set off for the boat launch determined to bag us a pig.
Once we got to the parking lot, we went into the brush and released Toby. “Go find Wilbur Boy!” I shouted, and off he went. Now, Toby was too dumb to understand English, but he knew what we wanted, because he picked up on Wilbur’s scent immediately. Next thing I knew, I heard Toby, Aroooo! Aroooo! Then I heard Wilbur Wreeeee! Wreeeee! as Toby chased him. I was standing in the tall weeds between the parking lot and the brush when Jeff yelled out “Here they come!” Wilbur shot past me before I could react, with Toby hot on his hooves. They headed out into the parking lot followed closely by Mitchell, Sean, Jeff, and me. The four of us spent what seemed an eternity chasing that son of a bitch, but in the open parking lot there was no place to corner him. We were all out there running around as if we were having a Chinese fire drill, but no one could get a hand on Wilbur. I could see that the pig was tiring, but so was Toby; meanwhile Mitch, Sean, Jeff, and I were gassed. I stood there panting, watching Toby still chase Wilbur, when Wilbur made a cut towards me. “I got you now you son of a bitch!” I thought. I lunged for him, but all I came up with was gravel, and a few scrapes. Wilbur ran past me, and back into the weeds.
By this time, even Toby was gassed. The sun had set a while ago, and now it was almost dark. We all looked at each other dejectedly, “Fuck him!” I blurted, “Let him spend the night out here, I hope he freezes his little piggy ass off tonight!” We were all pissed off, and spent, but at least we knew where Wilbur was. We'd be back.
Next: A hunting we will go.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Wilbur and Us Chapter 3 "The Great Escape"

After we shut Wilbur in his room for the night, we let the dogs up from the basement. Immediately they all caught the scent of our newest “child”. Even Tony showed an interest. Tony, was a large German Shepard, that looked more wolf, than dog. In his younger days, Tony was a mean old junk yard dog who was dumped on Rhea by her eldest son, Gerry. Tony was so mean that Rhea didn’t know what to do with him; but in time her love broke him down. Now Tony was a shadow of his former self, old, going blind, with badly arthritic hind legs. In spite of all this, he joined the other dogs checking out this new, and very different smell.
We figured we would let the dogs get used to the smell of Wilbur over night before the big introduction. They all showed a keen interest, but none of them got overly excited, not even Toby. Toby, I knew, was the wild card in this whole equation. Toby was the most high strung of the group, the youngest, and the hardest to control. When Toby got excited, not only did he not listen too well, but he would begin to bark uncontrollably. Well, you could call it a bark, but it was more of a loud cross between a bay, and a bawl; like AROOOO, AROOOO. Since the dogs seemed to be adjusting to the new smell well, we went to bed that night hopeful that Wilbur’s coming out party with the dogs the next morning would go well.
The next morning we looked in on Wilbur, and were pleasantly surprised. Wilbur was standing in the corner by his blanket, looking warily at us. The surprising part was that he had used the newspaper for its intended purpose. For a piglet raised in a barn, I was impressed. This would not be the last time we would be impressed with Wilbur’s intelligence. I walked over to him, and he tried to get away, but with his poor footing on the hard wood floors, I had no problem gathering him up. He started his wailing, and, his smelling. I brought him out of his room gripped tightly in my arms. All of the dogs showed an interest, but Toby went ballistic. I don’t know if it was Wilbur’s wail, or his smell, or both that set Toby off, but his tail shot straight up, and he started baying. Here I was, trying to hold on to a scared, squirming, wailing, smelly pig; while at the same time pushing Toby away, and yelling at him to shut up. Fortunately, Rhea was quick to grab his collar, and pull him away. After a couple of minutes we managed to get everyone (including myself) calmed down.
I gave each dog a chance to sniff the pig, while still holding the pig. I carefully set Wilbur down on the floor, the two younger dogs came over to check him out closer, but did not try to hurt him. Wilbur was still a little scared, but was unable to do much on the slippery (for him) floors.
We took Wilbur out to the kitchen to feed him something. We really didn’t know what to give him, but it didn’t matter because Wilbur was more than happy to eat anything, and everything we gave him. When Wilbur was eating he forgot all about his fear of us. He just ate and wagged his tail continuously. Contrary to cartoon pigs, pot belly pigs do not have a cork screw tail (something else is cork screwed, but we’ll get to that later), and unless they are alarmed, or asleep, it is in constant motion.
We decided to let Wilbur outside to get used to his new home. Our yard was open in the front, but we had a fence around the backyard. The front of the fence was your typical white picket fence, while the sides, and the back were a blockade style. Wilbur was rather small, about the size of a child’s bowling ball, but I was sure he could not get between the pickets.
Wilbur loved the back yard. He just used his little piggy snout to grouse around looking for grubs, and anything else he could eat. He was happier than a pig in the proverbial poop, grousing around with his cute little tail just swinging back and forth. I went off to work that afternoon confident that everything would be ok.
I came home from work about five hours later (remember due to 9/11 I was only working part time), and everything was ok. Wilbur was still snouting everything, and the dogs were not bothering him. While I was checking up on events out back, Rhea asked me to bring Wilbur in for supper. I went out back hoping to get Wilbur while he was preoccupied with his grousing, but as soon as I got within a few feet of him, he took off! On the hard wood floors inside, I had no problem catching him, but outside on grass was a whole different story. It was unbelievable how fast that little son of a gun could run! I chased after him, soon joined by Toby who wanted to get in on the fun. We ran all over the back yard chasing Wilbur. Toby was as fast as Wilbur, but Wilbur could cut on a dime and eluded him until we finally had him cornered between the house, and the picket fence. Frantic, Wilbur tried to push between the pickets, but could not fit through, but just before I could grab him, the nail holding the slat in place gave way, and Wilbur was gone. Wilbur took off across the front lawn until he reached the street. When he hit the street, he made a right hand turn, and down the road he went! By the time I got to the street, he was just a blur disappearing on the horizon.
To be continued….

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Wilbur and Us Chapter 2 "Our Little Piggie In a Blanket

On the way home I used my cell phone to call home. I told my son, Mitchell, that we had the pig and would be home soon. I asked him to round up the dogs and close them up in the basement so we could get Wilbur in the house without the little pig having a heart attack.
We had four dogs, Rhea’s dog Tony was old and had bad hind legs, and her dog Bluedoe, the Rot, had cancer and was sickly (both dogs had to be put to sleep within a couple of weeks). It was my two dogs that I was worried about. Dylan was a black haired mixed breed with a tail that curled up. He was about seven years old and very smart; he loved to escape from our yard and carouse the neighborhood looking for adventure, and females in heat. Toby was a brown haired Shepard, pointer, hound mixed breed. Toby was almost a year old, and very active; and he tagged along with Dylan when they escaped, which was a good thing because he was not smart enough to be able to find his own way home.
When we got home, I told Rhea to give me the pig. My figuring was that if Mitchell screwed up, or somebody let the dogs out, that they would listen to me to back off. As soon as Rhea handed me Wilbur, he had a panic attack. It was little hooves, and snout thrashing all about amid that horrendous ear piercing wail. I lost control of him, and dropped him to the ground. Fortunately, pigs are not like cats that hit the ground feet first, Wilbur went rolling, and before he could get his feet under him I pounced on him! I thought to myself “thank God I got him when I did; because if he eluded my grasp, there was no way I was going to catch him”. I carried him into the house with his wailing ringing in my ears.
The one thing I noticed about this little guy, besides his lung capacity; was his odor. It seems that when pigs are scared, they emit a loud screeching wail like a thousand nails across a chalkboard; and they also emanate a peculiar porcine scent. I brought him into the house thinking “What have I got myself in to? Am I going to have to listen this, and smell this everyday?!”
When we got into the house, the dogs were in the basement, so I relaxed a little. I started petting Wilbur, and baby talked to him, this calmed him down a bit. Rhea went around yelling through the house “I got a pig! Come see my pig!” Mitchell, my step son Sean, and my brother in-law Jeff (who was, and still lives with us) came running to check out the new pig. This of course got Wilbur all excited, and he started shrieking and smelling again. Mitchell smirked in jest, “We can’t even get baby back ribs off of him!” Rhea cried, “We are not eating him!” while I’m thinking to myself “Baby back ribs might not be a bad idea”. I held him while everyone came over and stroked his little head, and eventually he quieted down.
We had a spare bedroom with no furniture in it, so that was to be Wilbur’s room. While I held him, Rhea got a blanket, and laid it in one corner. Then she got some old newspapers and laid them out in the opposite corner. I went into the room carrying Wilbur, and closed the door behind us. I set Wilbur down, and he started to struggle, I let go of him and watched him try to scamper away. That was the first time that I truly noticed that Wilbur was different from the other animals. Wilbur has hooves, not paws, and the hard little hooves were having a difficult time gaining purchase on our hard wood floor. It was like watching a toddler on ice skates, as his feet kept sliding out from under him with every step. I thought he would fall flat on his face as he struggled to get away from me, but he didn’t. He scurried until he reached the wall, then turned and kept going until he hit the next one. When he realized that he was as far away from me as he was going to get, he stopped and looked at me. I walked over to him, he tried to escape but, with his hooves sliding on the hard wood floor he was easy prey. I picked him up, and set him on the blanket to a chorus of his wails. Rhea brought pieces of an apple she had cut up, and set them down next to the blanket. As soon as Wilbur smelled the apple he shut up, went over to the apple, and started eating. Rhea knew that the way to a pig’s heart was through his stomach. We walked out of the room, leaving Wilbur and his apple behind, and closed the door.
After supper we opened the door to check on Wilbur. Wilbur was sound asleep. He had used his snout to arrange the blanket in such a way that he was lying on it but also wrapped up in it. Rhea, and I just stood there smiling, two proud parents of a little piggy in a blanket.
Little did we know that this was the calm before the storm. The next day would lead to a great escape, and little game hunting for Jeff and me.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Wilbur and Us Chapter 1 "Wilbur Comes Home"

Prologue: After seeing the huge success of books like “Marley and Me”, I figured it was my time to cash in on the cute animal/owner genre that seems to be sweeping the nation.….by the way, this is a true story.
Ever since my wife and I have been together, she has always talked about wanting to own a pot bellied pig one day. I would always say “that’s nice dear”, and leave it at that. Since we already had four dogs (two of hers, and two of mine, before we got together), a cat, and three guinea pigs; I figured we already had our plate full of pets.
One cool autumn day in October, right after our fourth anniversary together, I was glancing through the local weekly newspaper’s want ads, when I noticed an ad that read “pot bellied pigs for sale to good owners, not to be raised for food! Females $30.00, males for $25.00”. I mentioned the ad to my wife Rhea, and she immediately started begging me to buy her a pig. Seeing as how it was a nice Sunday morning, and that we had plenty of time to make the 50 mile round trip before football started, and that I am soft in the head, I said yes.
I called the phone number on the ad, and a real nice lady answered. “Hi, I saw your ad in the paper for pot bellied pigs, and I was wondering if you still had any?” I said. “Oh yes” she replied, “but do you want it for a pet, and will you take good care of it?” I assured her that we did, and that we would. She then gave me her address, and I told her we would be there in an hour.
The lady owned a farm about 30 miles away on the north tip of Conesus Lake, one of the Finger Lakes. Since I used to disc jockey at a bar not too far from there, I had no problem finding her farm.
The lady was very nice but a little eccentric. She was very adamant about not selling a pig to someone who would not take care of it, or who wanted to eat it. Either I did a good job of hiding my trepidation about owning a pig, or I have an honest face, but she agreed to sell us a pot bellied pig.
She took us out to the barn where we could see a couple of big pigs, and about eight little fellers. “That’s the father” she said as she pointed out the biggest pig. This guy was quite a bit bigger than I thought a pot bellied pig would be; at least 300 pounds! “I thought pot bellied pigs were a little smaller than that”, I remarked. “Well the males are a little bigger than the females. Most people get the females because they are smaller.”
Well, I work in the airline industry, and it had been a year since 9/11. The airlines weren't doing well; I had been reduced to part-time so money was tight. I could not afford the more expensive female pig. I looked over at Rhea, who was grinning uncontrollably, and asked her “Are you sure you want to do this? I can only afford the male pig.”
Her head was going up and down like some bobble head doll in the back window of a car going down a bumpy mountain road, “Yes! Yes! I want a pig!” I turned to the lady and asked her if the runt of the litter was a male. “Why, yes it is! And he is so cute!” I reasoned that the runt would perhaps grow up to be smaller than his dad, so I said “We’ll take him.”
This was all well and good, but now the lady had to catch him. She spotted the little runt off in the corner covered with hay to keep warm. As she got closer, the little runt sensed something was up, and took off! With the agility of a minx, the lady went after him, cornered him, and caught him with such speed that my jaw dropped!
The little runt was only about three or four pounds, but he could wail like a banshee. His wail was so loud that it literally hurt my ears! The lady walked over and placed the runt in Rhea’s arms. After a minute or two of stroking, and gentle cooing by Rhea, the runt finally calmed down.
I paid the nice lady the $25, and we headed for the car. Before we got in the car the lady said “I recommend that you get him fixed while he’s still small, it’s much easier, and you’ll be glad you did. I know a vet just down the road who will do it for $25.” We took the vet’s phone number, and off we went.
On the forty-five minute drive home the runt was reasonably calm, and quiet, so we talked about what to name him. We decided to call him Wilbur, after the pig in the book "Charlotte’s Web". Wilbur was coming home to meet his brothers... four big dogs!

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Battling the Blues

Many people these days are struggling with depression in one form or another. This depression is often compounded in the winter time when there is less sunshine. Many people seek relief using prescription anti-depressants; and others seek it with alcohol, and other recreational drugs.
Most people who are taking antidepressants, and recreational drugs do not need to medicate themselves to feel better. Most people can find a way out of depression through natural means. We will discuss a few of these methods in a minute, but first, what is depression?
Most doctors believe that depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. While this is true in some cases such as manic-depressives, and psychotics, who need medication; most depressives can be helped without antidepressants. Antidepressants tend to suppress the emotions which makes most users feel like robots that are incapable of feeling; they seldom help as intended, and leave the user feeling empty as well as depressed. These drugs are also responsible for violent outbreaks, and suicides.
If you are one of these folks, put down your Prozac and try some of these remedies.
Cut back on your sugar intake. We all know what sugar does to children; well adults are no different. Sugar provides a lift for a short time but also induces a mood crash after it burns off.
Find ways to externalize your thoughts. Many people suffering from depression spend too much time thinking about themselves. This is the breeding ground for all sorts of negative thoughts and feelings such as worry, feelings of inferiority, and stress. The cure for this is to find things to do to get you to think of something besides yourself. This could be a hobby, volunteer work, painting, writing, or any number of things. The important thing is to find something that you really like to do, and go do it.
Get some exercise. This really ties in with externalizing your thoughts, but also provides other benefits such as producing endorphins, and other mood lifting chemicals in the brain. You don't have to be a workout warrior to get the benefits. Go for a walk, or light jog every other day, that will do wonders for your over all feeling of well being.
If you live in a northern climate take extra vitamin D during the winter time. In the winter very few people get the amount of vitamin D they need. Less sun means less vitamin D production in your body, so you need to account for this. In the winter people should be taking 2,000 - 5,000 iu's of vitamin D daily. If you have a job where you get very little sun you should also be taking vitamin D supplements daily.
Open the spiritual channels to your higher self. Man is a spiritual being living in a physical body. If the ego becomes too distant from the spiritual self, depression is often the result. Try to take a few minutes each day to open yourself to spirit. This can be done in any number of ways such as meditation, contemplation, and prayer. I personally like to take a few moments to sing the HU during the course of the day, and before bed. HU is the secret and powerful name of God which makes a marvelous mantra to reconnect with spirit. Just fill yourself with love by thinking about someone you love, and sing HU (pronounced Hugh).
As I said there are many ways to open yourself to spirit, you just need to find the best one for you.
If you are suffering from the blues, or a clinical depressive, you will find that many of these techniques will help and improve your quality of life.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Aspiring To Be More Than Human

This world, is nothing more than a large High School, for the maturation of soul. It literally takes thousands of lifetimes to graduate from this school, and to move on as teachers, guardian angels, spiritual guides, or any host of "jobs" which will be of your choosing, after graduation.
Many of my past posts, have pertained to lessons we all must master before graduating. My last post on "Real Love", is one such example.
To many in the human state of consciousness, giving love through demonstration, with no thought of reward, or gratitude, seems to be beyond our scope. To be honest, to anyone IN the human state of consciousness, it IS beyond their scope. To be able to give love of this magnitude, one must live in their true state, that of spirit. To do this, one must stop identifying with their human side, and start identifying him(or, her)self as spirit. 
This is nothing more than a change of attitude. It usually does not happen over night, but if one starts thinking of himself as spirit, a change will come about. This does NOT mean we have to practice austerities of the body, or mind. Remember, as spiritual animals, both sides need attention in order to remain balanced.
We also must remember that there are two different types of love; the human, and the spiritual. Human love, is best demonstrated by the love between two people. It is a love of give, and take; and it is emotional in nature. Because it is emotional, it is subject to change, as anyone who has ever gone through a break up knows. Spiritual love, is the love we all receive from God. This love is eternal, and unchanging. This is the love talked about by Jesus, St. Paul, and every Saint, and Savior, that has ever come to teach mankind. This is the love we aspire to be able to give.
Before any of us graduate from here, we will.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Mr. Nice Guy

I have one motto, “Nice guys finish first (except in football)”. It is not much of a motto, but I do try to live it.
I have taught my son, “It doesn’t cost you anything to be nice to someone”, and it is true. How can it be, that something so easy to do, and so cheap to execute, be so positive?
That is easy to answer if you happen to be the recipient of someone being nice to you. Having someone do you a good deed or a kind gesture can make your whole day if you are on the receiving end. If a total stranger can make your day by being nice, think how many people’s lives you could positively affect just by being nice to them. The thought literally boggles the mind.
If each and every one of us performed just one good deed per day, like the Boy Scouts try to do, it would change the world. Tensions between people would be slashed, blood pressures would drop. People would relax and enjoy life for the blessing it truly is.
Is it really all that easy? Well, yes, and no. The concept of it is easy to grasp, but the practice is not so easy. In order to be nice to someone, you actually have to be able to think outside your personal bubble. You have to come out of your shell, and be aware of the other people around you.
Lately this is getting harder and harder to do. Everyone has a cell phone, i-pod, or P.D.A., etc. occupying their attention. It is very easy to get wrapped up in yourself, and not notice other people.
It really is easy to be a nice guy. In the course of a normal day there are many times when you can be nice to someone if you are on the look out. Just try not to get too wrapped up in yourself, your worries, and problems.
All it takes to make some one’s day is to hold a door, smile and say good morning when you pass someone, offer the use of your cell phone for someone stranded on the side of the road; the possibilities are endless. All it takes is for you to be aware of other people, and to do something nice when the situation allows it.
There is something strange about being nice to people, it spreads

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Things That Irk Me

I am normally an up beat positive type of a guy. I do my best to keep a positive attitude even under the most stressful situations, but there are certain things that people do that will never fail to irk me. Some people call these things “pet peeves”, but I prefer to call them “things that irk me” (I just think ‘irk' is a great, under used word). So here it is, Mike’s official list of “Things That Irk Me”.
1) Push handles on pull doors.
2) People who just have to pull out in front of you, when there are no cars behind you, then make a left hand turn 100 ft. down the road.
3) Loud mouths
4) Greedy people
5) Hooray for me, and f#&k you, type of people
6) Drivers waiting to make a left hand turn in front of you that won’t move into the center of the intersection.
7) Power driven policemen who forget that they are being paid to serve and protect.
8) Warm beer
9) Cigarette smokers who complain when I light up a cigar.
10)People who love to tease and, dish out verbal abuse, but get indignant, and offended when you do the same to them.
11)People talking on cell phones when they are paying for their groceries.
12)People sending text messages on cell phones while they are (supposedly) driving.
14)Wet cigars
15)Guys who can’t lift the toilet seat to piss
16)People who steal your lunch at work
17)Nosy, gossiping people
18)A bed that smells like “dog”
19)Slow golfers
20)Shoppers that block the whole aisle with their shopping carts
21)Cars that won’t start
22)Anything that won’t work, when I want it to
23)Flat tires
24)Beautiful women, that know that they are beautiful
26)Telemarketers calling at suppertime
27)Commercials that insult my manhood and, intelligence
28)Dead cell phone batteries
30)Varmints, flies, and cockroaches
31)Neighborhood cats in heat
33)Not being able to find my car keys at 3:45 AM, because they weren’t hung up.
34)Pull handles on push doors

Wow, I never realized there are so many things that irk me! What was that I was saying before about being positive and up beat? Forget that!

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Janis Has Returned (and She Brought a Guitar With Her)

Well, I just got home from my vacation. I spent much of the week checking out new acts at The Rochester Jazz Fest. I had a real good time, and it was very enlightening. I saw a lot of great acts, and learned about some new rising stars. This post is to tell you about one of them.
When I was a young teen, there’re was a young lady that set the Rock-N-Roll world on fire; her name was Janis Joplin. She came from a small Texas town near Austin. This has been the breeding ground for many memorable rockers, most notably besides Janis, was Stevie Ray Vaughn.
Well I believe that Janis has come back to us, and she has brought a guitar with her this time. Janis has reincarnated as a young woman named Carolyn Wunderlund. Carolyn also hails from a small town near Austin Texas, and it is not hard to see the similarities to Janis, and Stevie.
I had never heard of Carolyn Wunderlund before my friend Mickey and I went to see her last Tuesday, but she made quite an impression on me.
Carolyn walked out on stage in a dress you would see Mennonite women wearing, with brightly colored red, and yellow hair, and a guitar. She looks a lot like Janis Joplin did, but the similarities don’t end there. The first time she opened her mouth to sing I was taken aback. This woman has a voice at least as good as Janis’ was. I was amazed! My amazement was just starting though, as she started playing her guitar. This woman can flat out play the guitar! My comment to Mickey was, “She’s not Stevie Ray Vaughn, but she’s not far away.” She rocked, and sang for almost two hours, and I am not lying when I say she blew everyone away.
After the concert everyone in attendance agreed that she put on one of the finest shows ever seen by my friends and I. I just couldn't get over the fact that she is still a virtual unknown to most people. This will not be the case for much longer as the word is getting out on Miss Wunderlund. She is such a polished and powerful singer, that if she had never touched a guitar that night, I would have still walked away from that concert in awe.
I highly recommend to all of my friends out there to find Carolyn Wunderlund on YouTube and check her out. Then you can tell your friends about her.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

I Sing Like a Toad

Like most people, after a hard week of work I feel the need to decompress; you know let my hair down and have some fun. I often like to have fun by going down to the local watering hole where they have karaoke every Friday night. Like most of the people in there, it often takes me a couple of shots of “liquid courage” to get the guts to go up and sing. Well that’s what I call it, singing; however a few of the locals in there would disagree with me on that.
For these folks, and everybody else that has to put up with people like me that think they can sing on Karaoke night; I have written a song. It is sung to the tune“King of the Road”

Karaoke, Friday night,
A few drinks, I feel alright.
Tin ear, no musical sense,
I smoke lots of cigarettes.
Ah but, two hours of sipping drink,
That’s when I start to think,
I’m gonna get up there and sound like Elvis, but I
Sing like a toad.

Bob Segar, the Ramones,
I get up, and they all moan.
I think that I just can't miss,
But my voice is as flat as piss.
Ah but, When I get up on that stage,
I think that I am all the rage.
I think I sound like Sinatra, but I
Sing like a toad.

I know every singer, and every song,
All of the patrons, we all get along.
But every time I get up there to sing,
They all put in ear plugs so they can’t hear a thing…

Karaoke, Friday night,
A few drinks I feel alright.
Tin ear no musical sense,
I smoke lots of cigarettes.
Ah but two hours of sipping my drink,
That’s when I start to think.
I’m gonna get up there and sound like Elvis, but I,
Sing like a toad.

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This site is more a column than a blog. I write humorous, spiritual, and political articles. Everything I write is designed to make you think; what you think is up to you.