If I had my own radio show...

Hello, yes, this is Ken and I'm a first time caller, I love your show..it's absolute genius.  I wanted to ask what kind of salad I should order with my meal when I eat out?  I want to make the most of my meal, but am unsure whether I should get the house salad, the Caesar salad or that other weird one with feta cheese?

Ken, I'll be honest with you here...skip the freaking salad.  I never, ever eat salad with my meal.  Why?  Because I'm treating myself to something nice, and a bunch of lettuce is not my idea of something fun and enjoyable.  Save room in your gut for the food that counts!  Think about it...the chef spends a lot of time preparing the main course, the desserts, and other appetizers.  He does this so they'll taste perfect and provide enjoyment.  Know how much time they spend cooking the lettuce, or those little sliced up carrot pieces?  ZERO.  How many times do people leave their main course unfinished because they have a belly full of lemon-zested grass clippings?  The bottom line is, salads suck and you should not be wasting valuable stomach real estate on them.  Next.

Hi, my name is Brian, and I was wondering if you could tell me why Wednesday is called "Hump Day"?  I've never quite understood that one.  I'll hang up and listen.

I'm not sure if this is a serious question Brian, because anyone with more than 5 brain cells understands why it's called that.  For the sake of those with an IQ greater than sand, I'll take the opportunity you've afforded us with your idiotic question and ask something that's actually interesting: who came up with the spelling of the word "Wednesday"?  Take note of the way it's spelled, and then consider how we all pronounce it - "Wense-day".  Based on the spelling, shouldn't it be pronounced "Wed-nes-day"?  What the heck happens to the "d" in there?  And you know how I feel about potpourri.  Next.

Yo J!  Whut it be!  Yo show is kickin' bro!  This be Sean G. up in da hizz-ouse, and I be...(click)

Freaking moron.  Next.

Hi Jeremy, this is Jen.  I think you are the smartest man alive and I want you to have my babies.  I was wondering if you could give me some advice regarding a friend of mine who always smells really bad.  Should I tell them?  How should I deal with this situation?

Sorry Jen, I'm spoken for.  Back to your question, this is a tricky situation because most people are not stable enough to hear from trusted friend that they are kickin' like a Bruce Lee movie.  If you can tell them, great...they'll appreciate it like crazy once they're done being mad at you.  Regardless, one thing you must do is make sure you keep your distance from them in social settings - the reason for this is that you don't want other people to think that it's YOU that stinks!  If you're sitting at the dinner table, and you're right next to your friend, and he/she smells so bad that it drifts past you and over to folks sitting on the other side of you, those folks might think that you're the stinky one!  This is a case where you have to hang your friend out to dry and make sure everyone knows it's them and not you that is bringing the funk.  Also, anytime you can, plan your activities to include things that would double as a bath of sorts...like swimming.  Next.

Yeah this is Tony from Boston, love da show.  Last night I was watching "Let's Make a Deal" and wondered if you saw the part wh... (click)    

How about you and I make a deal right now...you agree to stop watching retarded game shows that waste valuable prime-time TV spots  where inbreeders win lots of cash based on nothing more than dumb luck and I'll agree to stop pushing you into oncoming traffic.  Some of these shows are so freaking stupid!  "Hey moron...push the flashing red button and see if you instantly win money!  While the wheel spins I'll ridicule you and we'll all get a good laugh out of your desperation...all that and more tonight on HEY AMERICA, JUST HOW STUPID ARE YOU."

We're all out of time folks...for those of you stuck on hold, sucks to be you.

Tune in tomorrow, when my guest will be that British chick who wrote all the Harry Potter books.  We're going to find out once and for all what happens to the little #!^%&* and when it's going to happen, because frankly I'm sick and tired of it all.  If I see one more stupid freaking Harry Potter advertisement I'll go postal.  "Harry Potter and the Story That Wouldn't Freaking End", "Harry Potter and the Beating of a Dead Horse", "Harry Potter and the Marketing Campaign from Hell"...give me a FREAKING BREAK ALREADY!  If he's such a powerful wizard, why doesn't he break that wand off in someone and be done with it?  All he does is wander around looking at me with those big ole' goofy looking eyeballs of his, getting his butt kicked and spawning endless sequels.  I could beat Harry Potter down blindfolded with a Stuckey's Pecan Log for a wand.

This here songs gonna' be a hit!

Want to make it big in the "Kuntry Muzak" industry?  It's easy...all you have to do is use the following "Kuntry Muzak" generator and you too can be huge amongst the legions of the inbred! 

First, we need to select the subject of your song.  Do you want your song to be about:

1. Long lost love interests who spurned you for another
2. Details about your personal problems that no one but you cares about
3. Trucks
4. Redneck "sports" - the rodeo, NASCAR, or professional "fishin" or "bowlin"
5. Incorrectly spelled words that have significant meaning in your life ("I'm in L-U-V with a capital "U")

Now that you have chosen this, we need to decide who this important song will feature as the main character.  Your song will feature...

1. Your mamma
2. Your dawg
3. Your Mossburg 30 aught 5 dual load jackspread tight-bore deer rifle that you cherish more than your firstborn son
4. Your 52 Ford (no Kuntry boy would dare drive one of them' Chevy's)
5. Your wife/girlfriend/saturday night special

Ok, now what ails you?

1. The character I chose above has abandoned me (the "done left me" syndrome)
2. The character I chose above drives me to alcoholism ("they done drove me ta drank")
3. The character above corresponded with me after many years ("Well I'll be...lookie here...I done got a letter from Suzie May!  I ain't seen her since the rodeo prom...")
4. The character above caused marital problems ("done got busted cheatin...'")
5. The character above was destroyed or died ("they done kicked the buckit...")

And finally, what sort of unrelated event will you related to this?  

1. This is just like the time "mamma burned my biscuits and overcooked my grits..."
2. This is just like the time "I fell over a fence and skuffed my boots..."
3. This is just like the time "I saw this coon chasin' an acorn..."
4. This is just like the time "Ricky Bobby Jack-Ray won the Daytona 500..."

Once you've answered all these questions, making a hit "Kuntry Muzak" song becomes as easy as...well, as easy as "Spittin' seeds in grandmaw's steel-toes".  Here, let me demonstrate...this stupid, idiotic yet highly-likely-to-be-a-country-music-hit features abandonment, my mother, strange references to food and animals, and overtly stupid comparisons to unrelated events.  I like to call it "Dixie Daydreamin' and Mamma's Bluejean Casserole"

 

Well I remember the time...when mamma was 59

She made me a ham sandwich.

And I'll never forget how she burnt the bread...

cause well ya know it made me sick.

She said "Son don't you worry none"...you'll be all right soon.

Now shut yer' hole and eat your grits, and don't forget yer spoon.

 

Well mamma always did knew best, what her son did need.

And now as I hold you in my arms, I see you're the one indeed.

You're just like my mamma

You're all I'll ever need.

Yeah you're just like my mamma

You're all I'll ever need.

 

I know I've been bad to you

and treated you like junk

But just like a coon what done found a nut

I'll love you like a skunk

Cause one thang my mamma taught me

You never do give up

Even though you burned that bread

The sandwich is still good enough

 

Well mama always did knew best, what her son did need.

And doin' the boot-skoot-buggy with you, I see you're what I need

You're look like my mamma

And that's all I'll ever need.

You smell like mamma

You're all I'll ever need.

 

Yeah, you're just like mamma...

...and mamma is all I'll....

....NEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDD!

 

Now if you're thinking that this song is far too stupid to ever be a big hit in the world of "Kuntry Muzak"...well, think again.  This song is pretty sane compared to some of the absolute TRASH they've sold.  It's a stupid genre of music and it needs to die a slow, painful death.

If you haven't guessed it already, I FREAKING HATE COUNTRY MUSIC.  Feel free to make your own song and post it in my comments section...if we get enough, we'll create an album called "This Crap Sucks" and make millions in Nashville.

Time with my son.

When in the world is this flu junk going to go away?  It's been like 2,831 days and the entire population is still sick - what the heck?  What kind of mutant strain is this?  What kind of crappy scientific and medical services do we have at our disposal that we can't do something about it?  We're spending too much time studying the mating habits of bugs and not enough time making my life less painful.   

My daughter is the latest victim, and I stayed home most of this past week to take care of my one-and-a-half year old son, hoping that keeping the kids apart would keep him from catching it. (which, praise God, he did not). 

My son Logan likes to wake up at the toe-stubbingly dark hour of 5am every morning.  He's like an evil rooster or something, because as soon as he gains consciousness he starts screaming his head off...and it's usually before the sun comes up.  Perhaps he secretly delights in the misery of others, or maybe he just likes to get an early start on destroying everything of value in our house.  Regardless, he wakes up each day at around 5am and does not go back down until 8pm that night. 

This makes for a pretty long day, especially when the FREAKING TV BREAKS!  Usually as a parent you can get some small breaks during the day by giving them a popsicle to drip on your furniture and plopping them down to watch some new-fangled show on Nickelodeon (What is up with kids shows these days?  They're like a permanent acid trip...they'll have a blind dog with 5 ears dressed up in a cowboy outfit called "Mr. KadoozleFoozleFlam" rapping and battling alien cats and talking about having clean teeth and gums for like 45 minutes).  But with the TV out of commission, the entire day consisted of constant, never-ending pleas from Logan for me to "play" with him (which consists of him throwing solid metal Hot Wheels at my face and treating my manhood like a trampoline).      

Now I don't care how good of a parent you are or how much you love your children - after a while you need a change of pace.  I finally decided we needed to find something else to do.  

I thought we'd have a snack, and normally this would be fine...but the boredom and sleep deprivation and sore body parts had begun to affect my judgment.  I grabbed a chocolate pudding cup out of the fridge, and as I was headed to the drawer to get a spoon, I spotted a can of neglected Pringles potato chips on the counter.  I thought to myself  "Hey, I like stuff that's both sweet and salty...why not dip my Pringles in the pudding!  It'll be like chocolate covered pretzels!"  Logan momentarily stopped wailing on the cat to see what I was doing, and I think he was as surprised as I was.  Needless to say, it didn't turn out quite like I had hoped.  The chips busted inside the pudding cup and what I was able to get out didn't taste all that great.  I offered my son a bite, but he waved it away and told me "na-na-na-na-na" which is his way of saying "You can take that thing and shove it straight up your (baby curse word)"

The bad ideas continued...later on, he was playing with a small "laptop computer" toy that plays music.  For some reason, I thought it would be cute to teach him a little dance.  Now those of you who know me personally know that I DO NOT DANCE.  EVER.  I have plenty of rhythm, but it's like my legs are made of overcooked Rigatoni and can't move properly.  Anyway, we came up with a new dance called "The Lock" which is where you lift both your hands straight out in front of you and twist your wrists and hands back and forth like you're turning a key in a lock, and while you do this you have to squat down and then back up repeatedly.  As I watched my son do this dance over and over for the next 47.3 hours, I asked myself how badly he'd berate me after the first time he did this in front of a prospective girlfriend, thinking "Hey, my dad is a cool guy...no way he'd show me something unless it was totally rad!"  I grabbed his hands and tried to stop him from dancing, but it was no use...my son loved doing "The Lock" and would not be deterred by anyone or anything.  He simply pulled his hands free while shouting "na-na-na-na-na".

Then there was the time when I gave him on of my nephew's "lightsabers" to play with.  These things are basically plastic extendable baseball bats, and when my nephew (age 11, complete Star Wars nut) comes over we have duels with them.  Now there's nothing my son loves doing more than hitting people with stuff and watching their subsequent pained reactions, so these lightsabers were right up his alley.  I decided to let him play with one, and we spent a little while smacking them together.  And yeah, it was cute and all to hear him go "bam" when they knocked together...but after a while I wanted to take a break from playing and this unfortunately did not coincide with the young master's wishes.  I spent the next two hours being savagely beaten every time he wandered through the kitchen.  "LOGAN!  GIVE DADDY THAT LIGHTSABER!"  "Na-na-na-na-na..."

I bet when you read the title of this blog you thought I was going to get all sentimental.  "na-na-na-na-na."

On a totally unrelated matter, what the heck is up with the weather here in Alabama?  Saturday it snows and it's cold enough for the snow to stick...and then on Sunday it's almost 70 degrees outside?  COME ON!  Can't we at least get some consistency?  The weather always sucks down here, but can't it at least suck in some sort of organized fashion so we can plan our lives around it?