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Archive for November 2008

Good Beat Still Needs Good Words, Right?

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My favorite kind of music doesn’t fit into one category or genre, but it does have one commonality. A good beat. No, scratch that, an awesome, ass shaking, make you want to leave your seat, beat is more like it.

Techno, Hip Hop, and some rock usually fill the bill, although Techno can get old fast in its monotonous structure. Just to make sure we’re clear, when I say Techno, I mean all that crap like house, club, street, grind or whatever other nonsense label they throw on it. I like Techno because its rarely vocal driven. So when I’m in the mood to groove, but don’t want to listen to signing, I turn to Techno. Rock is a difficult one for me. There’s just so much garbage out under the “rock” designation. It always has been that way, since its creation. For every decent rock band, there are fifty lame ones and for every great rock band, there are five hundred terrible ones. Most of the rock bands I like have incredible drummers. Without a solid, driving beat, I just can’t get into it. Hip Hop is the leader in groove beat deliverance. Again, to clarify, when I say Hip Hop I’m referring to funk, rap, gangsta rap, soul, or what have you. I’m sure there are a lot of music theorists out there that would love to tell me how wrong I am, but I can’t take the time to break them into separate categories man!

The only problem I have with Hip Hop, (most of the time) is the lyrical content, no, not the vulgarity or degradation of women, just the lack of substance. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of bad poetry, (song lyrics) out there. I’m not trying to exclude the other offenders out there, but Hip Hop seems to have a very small window of subject matter in its popular titles.

Also, it’s so demanding. It always wants me to do something, whether it’s to shake, bounce, jump, get low, put me hands in the air, push, roll, shimmy, dance, slide, or covet other people’s possessions or body parts. It’s just a lot of pressure. I love listening to the music, but I just want to listen, not do a work out. The worst of all is the romantic ballad style songs. The “lines” that most of the world have a good laugh at, (crap like “if I told you, you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?”) is better than some of the lyrics in these songs.

Yet, in light of all this I still listen. Even when the lyrics make me cringe because they’re so horrible, I’m still groovin’ while I’m listening. In the same way people who complain about new movies with fancy CGI special effects cancel out the need for good stories, dialogue and acting, Hip Hop music doesn’t seem to be suffering from the decline of lyrical value. Even the crappiest of crappy Hip Hop songs usually have pretty cool beats.

So maybe it doesn’t matter what people say anymore… where’s that leave me and this damn blog?

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster


Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 30, 2008 at 4:29 am

Black Friday

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What a miserable day, this day, this so called Black Friday. I’m sure there’s a real reason why it’s called that, but I’m unaware of what that reason is. If I had to guess, it’s because everyone hates everyone at around noon.

Let’s say the average person starts the “shopping madness” at six AM. I realize that there are those who sleep out front way before six and that most people probably are up and getting ready, (especially the women) before six as well. I’m using six AM simply because it’s simple math to get to noon. Six hours of heavy traffic, having your foot run over by carts, bumped, pushed, shoved, finding what you’re after is sold out and knowing all of your sacrifice was in vain, and spending more money than you ever wanted too can make any sunshine yellow, happy face black.

I never hear about how restaurants do on Black Friday. Surely they see a surge in business. A little bit at least? Running around, boiling your blood, becoming disappointed and wanting to kill that person who just pulled out in front of you can really make you hungry. Post the biggest, dirtiest dish producing, most bloating, over indulgent meal of the year the last thing you want to do is go home and cook.

The wife loves Christmas and lives to go shopping. I don’t care for either. If I want something I go buy it, I don’t shop. Black Friday is one of the reasons I’m not a huge fan of Christmas. There’s this feeling of pressure and responsibility to buy a present for every person you’ve ever known. A lot of the times the perfect gift for someone comes out of a bin or off the shelf in the checkout aisle. Who knew the perfect gift for your sister’s husband was crammed behind a jumbo bag of Skittles. Nothing says love like “impulse purchase”.

I’ve never understood gift giving. “Hey kids, what do you want for Christmas?” “I want a blank-blank”, “I want a yada yada”, “OK, here you go.” “Wow thanks, it’s exactly what I asked you for. I’m so glad you listened and did what you were told.” Where’s the fun in that? There is none, but that’s the problem, unless you know someone on a military-veteran-buddy or prison-cell-mate level, it’s hard to figure out what they really want. Nothing’s worse that buying something for someone and having them open it and a look of total disappointment is obviously seen, (from outer space) washing over their face. Gift cards and money is almost on the same level. “Here, not only do I not know you or what you want, but I don’t even want to try.”

That’s why I’m purposing that families, couple or friends go out to the stores and shop side by side together, but for themselves. Pick what you want for yourself and buy it, (or have the little ones point it out and buy it). Ask about your companion(s) purchases. Show them off to each other, talk about them and what you’re going to do with them, (if applicable/appropriate). This way, you’ll never get stuck with something you don’t like, the pressure will be off everybody’s back and your relationship(s) with those you take with you shopping will develop and grow due to all the time spent talking.

Or you can just give me money.

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Thanksgiving Of Course

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Like today’s blog wouldn’t have been about Thanksgiving.


Today’s the day, the day of “the feast”, the most gluttony filled day of days. I bet the devil gives thanks for Thanksgiving because of all the gluttony. Man, I love Thanksgiving!


You have to admit, it’s the most glorious holiday of them all. It’s for everybody! No other holiday has so little controversy, hassle, conflict or responsibility.

Whoa! Why’d you throw that turkey baster at me? I’m not talking about being with family that you hate, the fights in the car driving long distances, working your ass off all day cooking, (and some poor people starting at like 2 am), the cleaning afterwards, the pressure to make food for people who would like nothing better than to judge and humiliate you and all of the other horrible and stressful things. I just meant it’s a great holiday for lazy people.


It’s the only one that doesn’t require anything of lazy people. It doesn’t really celebrate anything, or does it? If it does, it’s so meaningless that nobody even cares. It’s not like Memorial Day where you can really piss some people off if you’re ignorant. Come to think of it, I’ve never really asked a Native American what they thought of Thanksgiving. Maybe they hate it. Anyway, to mainstream America it’s nothing but family, food and football.


This is going to sound soft, I know, but I can’t help it. The thing I like most about Thanksgiving is that it’s a day to give thanks. Seems like that’s a pretty silly and simple thing, but when was the last time any of us really stopped to give thanks for what we have? Just being alive is an awesome thing and definitely something to be thankful for, (unless you’re serving life in prison for a crime you didn’t commit). Taking things for granted has become so normal, so common, that even saying “taken for granted” has become taken for granted. The point is every day we get to walk on the topside of the earth, everyday of air in our lungs and sun on our faces is a blessing. Whether you’re religious or not, you can’t be so ignorant to be blind to the fact that being alive is a good thing. So instead of being mad at Henry for forgetting the can of yams, or belittling Susan for overcooking the casserole, or yelling at Timmy for blocking the television, take a moment to be thankful for everything you have. Believe it or not, you are a very lucky person. I’ll let you make your own list.


OK, pecan pie is the thing I love most about Thanksgiving, but be thankful is definitely second.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 28, 2008 at 5:04 am

Brother In-Law

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We all have a family or some form of family. There’s someone in our lives that we love no matter what. As if we had no choice in the matter. Just like in the scene of every made for television movie where the parent says at the climatic ending, “I’ll love you no matter what!” You just automatically give it up for these people, which at times, can be hard to call family.

So where does “In-Law” factor into the equation? It’s long been the cliché or stereotype that the mother-in-law is the hated beast and biggest bitch in the universe. Likewise the father-in-law is always the disapproving, “you’re not good enough for my child” type. This may or may not be the case in your life. I’m sure the relationships and a character type for mother and father in-laws varies as much as the number of in-laws. It’s really just all about how you get along with them I suppose. So where does that leave brother in-laws? Where do they fall in the stereotype/cliché world?

I have a brother in-law; let me tell you about him. First of all we need a picture. Hard to imagine someone when you don’t know what they look like. Think of an apple, or better yet a caramel apple on a stick. Except this caramel apple has two sticks. Those are his legs. On top of the caramel apple let’s put a marshmallow. That’s his head. Now break off a couple of arms from an old He-Man action figure and stick them on the side of the caramel apple. There we go, my brother in-law, a six foot tall caramel apple on two sticks with a marshmallow head and He-Man arms.

What’s he like, because he sounds delicious? This has to be the next question. It’s hard to get a feel for someone if you don’t know anything about them. He likes to bully people and by bully people I mean make people squirm and scream. He’ll grab sensitive spots or pressure points on your body with his gorilla like hands and squeeze until you squeal like a pig. Then he laughs. He’s a redneck, know-it-all that’s an expert on everything. He’s not afraid to let you know how much a pansy, wussy, girly-man you are. “You don’t know how to rewire a breaker box? What are you, a homo?!” He’s ultra macho, the whole nine yards, drinks beer like water, dips tobacco and never spits, likes to abuse animals and small children and all women are mindless, lost, sex-droids that need reminding of their true purpose, (servitude). God forbid you should ever make him mad or cut him off in traffic, because the consequence is death. I’ve read about Roman emperors who were more compassionate than him. The whole family has resolved that the demise of my brother in-law will be the result of driving, if not in an accident, then the person that will road rage back with a pistol.

The worst part of it all is that I always have to call him for advice and help with the projects I’m forced to take on. Every time I call him it’s the same conversation. I tell him what happen, he’s laughs, I ask for help, he calls me derogatory names, I’m quiet, he calls me more names, I hang up and he comes over.

The best part of it all is that he’s my brother in-law. I’ve really come to like the guy over the years and would actually call him my friend regardless of the family tie between us. He may be rough around the edges, raw on the inside, too sharp to touch and quite possibly toxic, maybe even cancerous, but he’s brother in-law and I love him. This really makes him uncomfortable.

I always try to hug him when I see him so he freaks out a little.

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 27, 2008 at 5:04 am

Thoughts To Be Grounded By

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Perhaps you feel like you’re all alone, like you’re invisible, or that no one cares. You just might be right, except for the being alone part. With 87 billion people on the planet, it’s pretty hard to be alone.

On the other hand, you might feel special. We’re all special, each and every 92 billion of us. Special in our own way and that’s a whole lot of special. It amazes me the planet can sustain that much specialness. Where does all that specialness come from? If someone dies, does their specialness transfer into a new born child? Is special like energy, can it ever really die?

Well here’s a little exercise that will bring you down from atop “I’m Special” mountain. Think of something, anything, like an activity. Maybe something you wish you were even doing at this very moment, say nude hang gliding with midget, Brazilian, bikini models. Got it? OK. Now accept the fact that someone, somewhere in the world is doing that right now. Now try to think of something “far out”, something that you would never do, something that might even disgust you, say nude hang gliding with midget, Brazilian, bikini models. Got it? OK. Now accept the fact that someone, somewhere in the world is doing that right now. The point is there’s nothing that you can imagine that isn’t being done by someone on the planet at this very instant, or maybe their just finishing up or just starting, but you get the point.

Why even your name sake leaves something to be desired. I guess if you’re the product of super hippies and you carry a name like Sugar Flower Mama Rainbow, you might stand a chance at being the one and only, but don’t get too cocky about it. Someone, somewhere will remember your name, take a liking to it and then one day, BOOM they name their child Sugar Flower Mama Rainbow. That’s just how it goes.

The humbling thing about “world realization” is that it takes the pressure off. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it can make you suicidal if you let it, so don’t. Instead, let yourself bath in the comfort that you’re a fleeting moment in history, a blink of an eye, a fart in the wind, here today gone tomorrow. How can this make you feel good, you might be asking? Take the barrel out of your mouth, I can’t understand you.

The feeling of comfort comes from knowing you’ll never be last, the worst, the fattest, the ugliest, the most dumb, the most unpopular, the most or “est” anything. Also, nothing you can do will be the worst or destroy the world or ruin the universe. You’re completely free to just live. Live any life you want, after all everyone’s too busy to notice.

It’s OK to feel good and bad about yourself, as long as you stay in touch and check yourself. You have 187 billion brothers and sisters and the house is getting smaller. Just be happy you got a piece of pie at all.

What a horrible blog…

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 26, 2008 at 5:16 am

Wear Button Fly Jeans, Have Sex

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Do you own a TV? Me too, we have so much in common. I don’t watch a lot of television programming. It takes away from cleaning my rifles and staring out the window, mumbling curse words under my breath. For some odd reason I like having it on in the background while I read. It’s the same principal as listening to the radio and watching television or a sardine and peanut butter sandwich.

I’ve noticed over the last few months or so that there’s a lot of button fly jean commercials on. I was unaware that button fly was making a go at taking over the market and putting the zipper out of business. I guess with the economy the way it is and the market in the shape it’s in, everyone is fighting for survival/superiority.

I don’t care for button fly myself. This next line definitely falls into the “too much information” category, so if you are someone who likes to avoid such things, please skip down to the next paragraph. Anyway, I don’t like button fly jeans because I don’t undo my belt or waist button to go to the bathroom. Trying to do the buttons with your top button, (and belt if applicable) is a real pain.

I am however reconsidering the button fly jeans, solely on the ad campaign that filters through the air waves, penetrating my book and making me look up at the television. Apparently if you wear button fly jeans, you get to have sex.

You might be saying to yourself, I already have sex. Be that as it may, you’re not having hot-button-fly-jeans-sex loser. It goes beyond just the act of intercourse; the jeans turn you into a magnet, an idol, a wanted man by women of the highest level of beauty. All you have to do is put them on and in seconds someone is asking that you take them off. Not only that, it’s crazy, on top of a bus, riding a camel, flying to the moon sex, not your boring Mr. and Mrs. Smith sex.

I wonder why it is that the “think tank” at the advertising companies can’t get around the angle of sex. Surely there’s other ways to market and sell you product besides having them put on and taken off. It’s just so obvious. “What are we selling?” “Jeans.” “I’ve got an idea, let’s have a guy getting out of bed and putting them on. Then show some half naked chick passed out in bed. The guy leaves and the logo pops up.” “Awesome! Great job Jim.” “Throw a tag line on there and we’re done.”

Here’s my jean commercial: Shot opens up of a typical city street. A hot chick is walking down the street naked. She just keeps walking and walking as the camera follows her. Finally she walks off camera and the panning shot ends. Fade to black. The slogan pops up: Jeans, on a naked chick?

Oh no, I’m just as bad as they are.

 Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 25, 2008 at 5:32 am

Routine vs. Random

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Which type best describes you? Take this short test to find out!

Do you like to have a schedule? Do you like knowing what’s going to happen next? Do you try to plan out your day, week or even month in advance? Do you like to follow the same routine everyday?

If you answered yes to all of these questions, you’re a “Type A” person.

Do you feel stress out or burdened by following a schedules? Do you like letting the wind take you? Are you living life by the seat of your pants? Do plans make you feel stifled? Do like everyday to be an adventure?

If you answered yes to all of these questions, you’re a “Type B” person.

What’s that? You didn’t answer all of the questions as “yes” on either of them? Well that’s weird, I guess you’re a “Type C” person and you can’t participate in this discussion.

The truth is, “Type A” people for some reason hang around “Type B” people. I think so it makes it easy for them to fight and ruin other people’s dinner at restaurants. Nothing like having a nice sit down dinner and get to listen to a couple argue of over what they’re going to do. “You never told me that!” “Yes I did, you just weren’t listening. You never listen to me.” “I like to know about these things in advance” “Well, I’m telling you now.” Blah, blah, blah… don’t you people ever stop? Try putting some food in those mouths!

What’s that? Oh, I guess that conversation is me and my wife. Sorry about that. I thought we were deconstructing anonymous strangers, my fault.

It’s true. The wife and I are complete opposites. She’s a planner and I’m a free-for-all-er. After years of arguments like the one above, I’ve learned this. Don’t make avocado ice cream, it’s disgusting. No, I’ve learned that both sides are hard work.

Planning everything is hard for obvious reasons. It is constant work, a daily grind, and a monotonous choir. It’s slow and grueling, but it makes the surprises of life minimal. It seems like the safe bet, but if you’re not of a certain discipline or mind set, don’t even attempt it. Once you go down that road, it’s hard to come back from.

Being a free spirit may seem like the easy road, but it’s not. Sure, up front it seems effortless, but just like planning; it’s a constant void that needs filling. The constant is of course the never ending question, “What to do now?” If you’re not creative, possess a lot of patience and are willing to encounter set backs daily, then don’t venture into the free spirit lifestyle. You won’t make it.

The question I have for you is this. Did I plan this blog or did I wing it?

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 24, 2008 at 6:39 am