Jake Leg of the Week Award

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Blogs, Bobby Petrino, Fidel Castro, Jake Leg of the Week Award, Lamar Odom, Ozzie Guillén, Static in the Airwaves, Tim O'Brien

All winners will receive their very own mooning troll trophy to proudly show off to any friends they may still have.

Welcome to my inaugural awarding of the Jake Leg of the Week.  Each week we will celebrate and raise our glasses in a toast to the biggest dumb a** making headlines in this crazy ol’ world of ours.  Each winner will be presented the ‘Mooning Troll’ trophy.  Feel free to send in nominations throughout the week as you see fit.

As you would expect, there were several well deserving candidates dip sh**s this week, and like a herd of horses racing down the home stretch neck and neck it came down to the wire in a photo finish.

Now, without further adieu, here are my three nominations for the week:

Ozzie Guillen – Head Coach of the Miami Marlin baseball team

Surgeon General Warning: Thinking in Spanish and speaking in English is harmful to your reputation!

The controversial baseball coach made headlines when he expressed his admiration for communist Cuban dictator Fidel Castro.  You don’t have to be the sharpest tool in the tool box to foresee the reaction the comments produced.  First, the baseball team just celebrated the opening of its beautiful new stadium in Miami’s Little Havana neighborhood.  Area residents were shocked at the stupidity of the comments and took serious offense to his remarks.  Baseball suspended Guillen for only five games, while many were calling for his dismissal.  This is the same coach who back in 2006 was fined for using a gay slur during a rant at a Chicago-area writer.

The ozzieness of stupidity explained his remarks.  “I was thinking in Spanish and I said the wrong thing in English.”  For real.  I’m not making that up.  That was his reasoning during his apology.  I guess that’s what happens when you speak out your ass and think it will smell like roses.

Bobby Petrino – Current Former University of Arkansas Head Football Coach

Coach Petrino's reaction to his nomination as Jake Leg of the Week.

We are all aware of the economic hardships so many Americans are currently going through.  But, have you ever witnessed a bigger dumb butt throw away over 18 millions dollars?  Threw it away!  And for what?  Oh, that same old problem, that for some reason, most men never learn the lesson and are doomed to repeat.  Seems Bobby thought he was Tiger Woods.  You know the type…the guy that is better at thinking with his little head instead of his big head.

Days after illegally hiring his longtime mistress to work for him in the football department, Petrino wrecked his motorcycle with the young lady riding along with him.  Seems Petrino tried to cover her appearance up to police and university officials.  The fifty-one year old Petrino is married and has four children.  His girlfriend was twenty-five.

The University Athletic Director fired Petrino “with cause” meaning Petrino will not receive the 18 million dollar buyout! And with his little head, he just pissed it all away…

Lamar Odom – NBA Basketball Player, Dallas Mavericks

Lamar is all smiles as he takes the money and runs.

Lets pretend that you have an incredibly high paying job (for some, you may not need to pretend).  You are paid millions of dollars to do something you love.  You get to travel and find adoration where ever you go.  You fall in love with the glitz and bright lights of your hometown.  Without warning, your boss comes in and transfers you away.  Now the transfer isn’t to East Siberia or BF Egypt or some other far off and undesirable location, but a large metroplex in a very chic city.

No big deal, right?

But let’s say you object to the move.  Shortly after arriving you take a ten-day personal leave of absence.  You show up for work but you’re not ready to do your job physically.  You’re habitually tardy to all work meetings and you were actually late for work, despite living right across the street from your workplace.  You are cited for a lack of committment and lack of effort by your co workers.  To top it all off, you get in a heated argument with the owner of the company.  The bad news is the boss lets you go.  You are publicly ridiculed.  But you don’t care, because no matter what a big douche bag you are, you still get to collect the remaining 8.9 million dollars owed to you on your contract.  Crazy, right?

Where can I sign up for such a job?

Time to cue the house band and ask the drummer for a drum roll….

And the winner is…..

Bobby Petrino!

Petrino does not appear overly excited to win our first Jake Leg of the Week Award.

What is it about men in Arkansas with money, prestige and power and use all this in order to have sex with much younger women?  Seems like I’ve heard this story before…

So there you have it – our very first Jake Leg of the Week Award winner!

What do you think?  Was Petrino the obvious winner in a landslide vote or was there someone more deserving that we overlooked?  Cast your votes and don’t forget you can text your vote just like on American Idol!!

Now all we have to do is sit back and wait as the news unfolds each day for someone is out there lurking just out of our periphery, ready to claim the prize next week…until then, remember it is always best to think in English and speak in English!

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Friday in the Park – A Christmas Stroll Through the Blogosphere 12/23/11

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August McLaughlin, blogging, Christmas, Debra Kristi, Jessica O'Neal, Julie Hedlund, Louise Behiel, Mashup, Myndi Shafer, Static in the Airwaves, Susie Lindau, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien

As we near the big day I decided to move my Saturday post up a day.  So welcome to my Friday stroll through the park, a collection of blogs from the past week that created static in my airwaves.  My mashup is a buffet of sorts from some of the best blogs and most talented bloggers I follow.  In honor of the Christmas season the following blogs are all holiday theme oriented.

Are you looking to create the ultimate Christmas card to send to family and friends?  You will be amazed at the talents of Susie Lindau in her blog titled  Cutting Up at Christmas.

Searching for the holiday spirit?  Has the overcrowded malls, long lines, and full parking lots have you down?  Check our Louise Behiel’s blog this week  Christmas Music Past and Present.  After watching these videos you will have a smile on your face and regained your Christmas magic!

Are you lost in the commercialization of Christmas?  Have you forgotten the true meaning behind it all?  Leave it to Linus in the Charlie Brown Christmas to remind us all in Myndi Shafer’s   The Reason We Celebrate.

Are you or someone close to you struggling to cope during the holidays? Read Debra Kristi’s excellent blog The Elephant in the Room: Dealing With Grief at the Holidays.

Do you still recall the magic of Christmas from your childhood?  Do those feeling come back to you year after year, or have you lost that Christmas feeling?  Check out Jessica O’Neal’s blog this week   Is Christmas Really Just Meant For Children?

Have you ever tried to rewrite a Christmas classic?  Well, that just what Julie Hedlund did!  To see what an amazing job she did, read her blog  ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: Holiday Contest

No holiday recap is complete without a great holiday baking recipe.  The multi talented writer and healthy baking blogger, August McLaughlin shares with us her delicious ideas in Cinnabon’s Healthy Cousins.

Happy Friday everyone and may the joys of this season find you and your family!

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Tags

blogging, Blogs, Happy Thanksgiving, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien

Reasons To Read: Advice From a Best Selling Author

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Al Roker, Alex Cross, blogging, Blogs, Children's Books, James Patterson, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, Reasons to Read, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, Today Show, www.readkiddoread.com

“It’s our job to find books for our kids to read.  It’s not the school’s.” – Best Selling Author James Patterson

Welcome to the third installment of Reasons to Read.  In the first two weeks, we discussed Getting in Touch With Your Inner Casting Director and Reasons to Read – Time Travel, Bad Tv & Sex Tapes.

I love to read.  My parents taught me at an early age the joys of reading.  My two oldest children love to read, and it is just as important for me to show my two youngest children the joys of opening a terrific book and letting the writer take you on a journey, and into a world, that before now, you were unable to enter.

Unfortunately, many, many parents don’t spend that quality time with their children.

This past Wednesday I happened to walk past the television while the Today Show was on.  Al Roker was interviewing best-selling author James Patterson when the topic changed from promoting his latest Alex Cross novel to a cause Patterson has championed – getting children to read.

“We know we are supposed to teach the child how to ride a bike, or how to throw a baseball, but we don’t think, we have to go out and find books for them.”

Wow!  Right there on national television a mega-selling author stated it best.

Why do we as parents think it is the public schools system to teach our children?  Why is the most significant responsibility of parenting – the teaching of our children – delegated to someone else?  I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my children’s future determined by how well they are taught by someone else.  Nothing against teachers – my Mom was one.

We spend time teaching our kids to ride bikes, roller-skate, throw baseball’s and footballs, yet it escapes our thinking that perhaps we should spend just as much time at the library or bookstore picking out notable books for them to read.  We spend time picking out video games for our children.  For the cost of one video came we could buy four or five books instead.

My youngest daughter loves to read.  My son, well, not so much.  I have struggled to come up books that he might find appealing.  Books, other than Diary of a Wimpy Kid, are hard to find, and hold his interest.

Watching the interview with Patterson led me to a startling revelation.  Seems that while not writing the next best-seller, Patterson has started a website specifically designed to solve this problem.

I quickly went to the web site:  http://www.readkiddoread.com

On the home page, it states, “Something told you the only way to get kids to read was to give them great books, cool books, books they would absolutely, positively love.  I believe we have gathered the crème de la crème of such reading right here.  These are very special books that kids will gobble up and ask for more.  If your kids get a few of these books under their belts they’ll be well on their way to becoming readers for life.  I promise you.”

Reading lists are broken up into four categories:

0-8  Great Illustrated Books          6 & Up  Great Transitional Books          8 & Up  Great Pageturners          10 & Up  Great Advanced Reads

Within each category are four subcategories broken down into genres and more defined age groups with each category containing at least twenty-five books titles.

I spent quite a bit of time at the web site, scanning over book tiles and descriptions.  You could get lost in time.  My prayers were answered.  I have an entire arsenal of books to expose to my children.  I even see numerous options that might, just might, turn my son into a reader.

If you are a parent, aunt, uncle, grandparent, or mentor to a child, check out the web site.  Let others in your circle of friends know about it.

After all, it is our job, and not the schools system, to teach our children well.

The Last Dance…High Anxiety

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blogging, High School Dance, Last Dance, Led Zeppelin, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, Slow Dance, Stairway to Heaven, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien

We huddled together like a group of over-anxious teenage boys, which is exactly what we were, and waited for that one song.

We knew it would be the last song of the night.  All night long we each kept close track of her – the one girl who made our hearts race.

If we each played our cards right, and paid careful attention to the opening strums of the song we could swoop in and get the dance.

We hadn’t danced to one song all night.  A silent protest against the ballroom dance lessons.  We waited till the very end for our big moment.  With our heads down, staring a hole in the dance floor, we stayed near.  We each had a crush on a different girl. We wished each other luck.

The dance rocked into the late night, our time was soon, we were all strategically spread out, getting as close to our intended dance mate without seeming to obvious to our intent.

The acoustic guitar introduction began.  Like a hawk circling the skies above, we all soared in, and soon were on the dance floor, holding our dance partners tight to the slow rhythms of the song.

“There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold

And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.

When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed

With a word she can get what she came for.

Ooh, Ooh, and she’s buying the stairway to heaven.”

The song lasted eight minutes, long for a song, but not long enough for us.  We were all in our own “heaven” as we slowly stepped, moving in a tight little circle, arms wrapped around each other.

A quick glance around the dance floor to make sure we had all reached our mark.

We held tight never wanting to let go.  Until…

Until that part in the song when our “slow dance” song turns into a high tempo hard rock song.  We had to think quickly.  One of three things was going to happen:

1.  If you were one of the lucky ones you remained slow dancing despite the increased tempo of the song.  This was the preferred choice, and it meant your dancer partner wanted to remain close to you, as well.

2.  Like everyone else, you broke apart and began to “fast dance” to the song.  This was not preferred, fast dancing scared the crap out of us, and no one wanted to look like a fool, but at least you were still dancing with your dream girl, which in itself might mean something.

3.  The unthinkable happens.  The confusion concerning the proper way to dance to the tempo change sends your partner walking off the dance floor with you following behind like a scolded little puppy.  Half the dance floor would always clear out after the tempo up-tick, meaning half of us hawks had transformed into sparrows, or some other sort of chi-chi bird.

It’s hard to believe that 40 years ago this month Led Zeppelin released its fourth album.  The album had no title on the cover and was always referred to as IV.

The song Stairway to Heaven went on to become the most played song on FM radio in the ’70’s.

Total sales for the album have reached 32 million, 23 million in the US alone, making it the third best-selling album (behind Michael Jackson’s Thriller and the Eagles Greatest Hits) of all time.

And for 32 million teenagers Stairway to Heaven was the most anticipated song of the dance.

Can you remember your high school dances?  Was there that one song that sent you searching the crowd for a dance partner?  Did the song Stairway to Heaven give you fits on the dance floor, or was there another song that made you look clueless on the dance floor ?  Or were you the Staying Alive era John Travolta of your class?

Solving the World’s Problems – One Campfire at a Time

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blogging, Blogs, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, Rio Grande, South Texas, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, turning 50

Funny how life can be summarized around a campfire.

We had all gathered for a long and relaxing weekend.  Each of us had traveled far to reach our point of destination; from different directions we all arrived taking a different path, brought together to celebrate a birthday.  A member of the group had reached the half-century mark.

We stood around the campfire ring, huddled close to its warmth as the cold, nighttime air surrounded us.  We were an odd collection of individuals.  Two of us had been married several times.  One was married and currently divorced.  Two members of the group had yet to marry.  Sadly, only one of us had found success in marriage, and they just celebrated their 25th anniversary.

Standing around the campfire that night was a longhaired defense attorney, a Lieutenant in the Constables office and an 18-year veteran of serving and protecting the citizens of Houston, Texas.  There was an environment demolition specialist, a Project Manager for large companies, a sports photographer, a nursing home administrator and an observer of life, me, the writer.  For our chosen professions, we had absolutely nothing in common.  Yet, our time together has exceeded three decades.  Two of us went back to grade school.

The moon was full on the first night of our gathering, as we stood mesmerized by the orange dancing flames.  The tales told on that first of three nights were just as full.  The cold beers and whiskey flowed effortlessly that night.  The later the hour – the taller the tales.

The comedian in the group – the defense attorney – sent the woman scrambling into the house following a rather descriptive and crude joke that had the rest of us shedding tears as we laughed.  It wasn’t long before our comedian began to boast of the vasectomy of all vasectomy stories.

For three nights and four days this continued.

We gave updates on our lives, about our kids and the what-was-happening-now in our work careers.  We shared joyous tales of personal triumphs along with a few about the tragedies that life can throw you.

We shared more than a few jokes, told plenty of tall tales about the shenanigans of our youth.  It was hard to believe we ever got away with those things, and somehow, we were never caught.  We sure weren’t smart enough back then to get away with it.  We were lucky, I guess.

We had gathered on a ranch in South Texas.  There was a lot of history on the place.  When the ranch owner was a young boy, he came to the United States by ocean liner following World War II.  He fell in love with South Texas and dreamed of becoming a cowboy and owning a ranch.  Through his hard work and high-risk profession, he achieved his goal, and it was there we had come together.

On the second evening of the trip, we all stood on a wooden deck built on a bluff overlooking the Rio Grande River and Mexico.  It was known as the “Happy Hour” deck.  With cold beers and drinks in our hands, we watched a beautiful sunset.  We all had much to be thankful for, but silently we gave thanks for standing on this side of the river.

With more than a few grey hairs and wrinkles across our faces, we shared our time together.

At dinner, we all sat at the large table, treated to food fit for kings.  The conversations continued and soon we were back outside by the fire ring another mesquite smoke-filled night awaiting us.

And so on into the night we went.

The hour drew late as the remainder of our time together drew short.  More logs were added to the fire as the tales continued.  The ice chests grew empty, the trash cans grew full.  There, we all stood, listening to each other swap stories about life.  We were surrounded by 17,000 acres.  A ranch that came together by a man’s childhood dream.  For as Father Time reminds us that life is worth living, dreams can come true, and you are never too old to stop dreaming.

And on that last night we all stumbled away from the campfire trying to find our way for a place to lay down.

Life can be so easily explained sometimes.

Old Age & Treachery – Turning 50

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blogging, Blogs, growing old, Kris Kristofferson, the Big 50, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, turning 50, writer

I’ve spent quite a bit of time lately thinking about age.  About getting older.  Dealing with my own mortality.  Not a particularly sunny topic to think about.  Four days from now I will take my turn at blowing out the 50 candles.  I honestly don’t know what to think or how to feel about that.

Life as you have lived it is more than likely half over.  That’s a weird thing to wrap your mind around.  My time here is half over.  More than half really.  Maybe I have 20 more years, hopefully 30.  I can still see myself playing baseball in the street with my childhood buddies.  Hell, that was over 35 years ago, yet feels like yesterday.  Thirty-five years from now?  I hope it doesn’t go by as fast as the last thirty-five.

If the glass is half empty, then life is half over.  If the glass is half full, then well, just be happy to still be here.  I used to look in the mirror and cuss every new grey hair on my head.  Now, I’m thankful that I still have grey hairs growing and I still have all my hair.

So many thing race through your mind as you get older.  Conflicting thoughts.  Some happy, some sad.  We spend our entire life racing to get to the top of the mountain.  If you are lucky enough to get there you stop and look back at the paths that you took, the choices you made, the lasting impressions you’ve left behind.

I have yet to reach the mountaintop.  Don’t know if I honestly care that much about it anymore. But, as I look back at the past fifty years, I truly don’t like what I see.  The paths I have chosen aren’t filled with glorious triumphs and thrilling achievements.  I haven’t accumulated immense wealth, nor have I made the cover of Rolling Stone.  I look back and see a path of destruction left behind in my wake. I’ve made more than a few messes.  Made some poor choices.  Some not so proud moments flicker on the screen.

Does your past define who you are as a person today?  For the sake of sanity, I sure as hell hope not.

“Why do I do the things that I do?

Was I born this way or am I a self-made fool?

I shoot the lights and curse the dark.

I need your love but I break your heart….

I had to work to become the jerk I’ve come to be.

It ain’t easy being me.” 

—  Songwriter Chris Knight

My past hasn’t been entirely bad.  I am the father to four terrific children, which I hope, will become the lasting memory of what I accomplished.  My oldest daughter is in her first year of law school. Another daughter married this past summer to an upstanding young man.  He is a United States Marine, and they are currently living in California.  He will deploy for the second time this December.  I pray for the two of them every night.

I have a son who just turned ten years old and another daughter who will turn nine in a few more weeks.  My son’s first day of Kindergarten was also my oldest daughter’s first day of college.  Quite a gap in there.  The joys of fatherhood and being a proud parent are the most rewarding things life has to offer.  But the joy just as quickly turns to guilt.  I was an older dad when my last two children were born.  My father is still living.  So is my mother. And man, there is not a day that goes by that I don’t feel blessed to still have them.  Yet, I have cheated my two youngest children of ever feeling that same joy.  When they turn fifty…well…I probably won’t see it.  I have to cram as many memories of life with me into their little minds as possible.  Time is not on our side.

The joys conflicting with the guilt.

I still have much I want to accomplish, and much to teach my children.  I just don’t have as much time to get it all done.  Life was a marathon.  Now it’s a race – a sprint.  The hourglass is tipped over.  I have so much to do, and so little time.   There is not a day to waste.

As the next four days inch closer and closer I have concluded many things.  Despite the grey hairs, I refuse to give in to Father Time.  Just because, I need reading glasses and my hearing sucks, doesn’t mean I have to act like an old man.  I will remain young at heart.  I will still do the silly dance with my children in public and not give a damn what others may think.  I will still make up my own words to songs and sing in the shower.  I will play catch with a football or baseball for as long as my son wants to.  I will download new music onto my computer but still prefer the sound of a record playing on my early 1950’s record player.  I will never believe in political correctness.  I will always believe that “old school” is still way cool.  Faded Levi’s and a t-shirt are better than a coat and tie.  I will always prefer to sit around a campfire with close friends drinking cold beers than sitting around a conference table in a boardroom with a bunch of robots wearing suits.  I will always play my music loud and if you don’t like it then buy me hearing aides.

“He’s a walking contradiction

Partly truth, partly fiction

Taking every wrong direction

On his lonely walk back home”

—  Kris Kristofferson

My perspective on life may have changed with age, but that doesn’t mean my attitude has to.  I’m old enough to know better, but I’m still young enough to do it again.  Or in the immortal words of Billy Joe Shaver, “The devil made me do it the fist time, the second time I done it on my own.”

Reasons to Read – Time Travel, Bad TV & Sex Tapes

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America's Next Top Model, American Idol, Bad TV, Bad TV & Sex Tapes, Berlin, blogging, Blogs, Bonanza, Cold War, Come Monday, Cormac McCarthy, CSI, D.D. Warren, Dancing with the Stars, Gorky Park, Harry Potter, Jack Kerouac, James Rollins, Jersey Shore, John Le Carre, Kim Kardashian, Larry McMurtry, Lisa Gardner, Lonesome Dove, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, Love You More, Martin Cruz Smith, Moscow, On the Road, Reasons to Read, Reasons to Read - Time Travel, SE HInton, Shakespeare, Soviet Union, Survivor, Suzanne Collins, Texas Rangers, The Biggest Loser, The Devil Colony, The Great Gatsby, The Hunger Games, The Outsiders, The Road, The Things They Carried, TheSpy Who Came in From the Cold, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, Twilight series, writer, X Factor

Have I ever told you my tale of riding with two former Texas Rangers in the late 19th century?  I rode along with them on a cattle drive from Texas to Montana.

Have I told you about the time I was a British Agent in Cold War Berlin?  Or traveled to Moscow before the collapse of the Soviet Union and found three corpses frozen in the snow, faces and fingers missing?  If I failed to mention these exploits, I probably failed to mention that I served in Vietnam and walked with a father and son in the post-apocalyptic future.

I don’t have any sort of super powers over the universe.  I have no extraordinary abilities, but yet, I am able to travel in time and go places that others can only dream of.  The cost of my adventures?  Next to nothing!  I have traveled the world over ten times for what most of us pay for cable television each month.

Before you say I am full of more sh*t than a Christmas turkey, or place the call to have me committed, remember we all have the ability to visit far away places of intrigue, adventure and romance.

Sadly, most of us never will.

In last weeks post “Reasons to Read – Getting in Touch With Your Inner Casting Director I mentioned that one-third of high school graduates never read another book, and 42% of college graduates will never read another book after college. The numbers are shocking!

Of course, I have never been on a cattle drive with two Texas Rangers.  But, I have read Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove.  I have never been to Berlin or Moscow, but I have read The Spy Who Came in From the Cold by John Le Carre and Martin Cruz Smith’s Gorky Park.  I never served in the military, but traveled with Tim O’Brien as I read his outstanding book The Things They Carried.  I can’t predict the next hour, much less travel into the future, but Cormac McCarthy’s The Road took me there.                             

So why don’t more people read?

Was it the classics we were forced to read in high school, that at the time, seemed like the driest, dullest stories in the world?  If our teachers hadn’t forced Shakespeare or The Great Gatsby upon us, but instead choose Jack Kerouac’s On the Road or even SE Hinton’s The Outsiders, would more people read today?  Maybe with the popularity of the Harry Potter novels and the Twilight series the reading numbers will improve.  It is hard to deny the book marketing directed towards today’s youth.  I don’t recall my generation or generations thereafter being targeted with anything as popular and mass appealing as we are seeing today.

People don’t read because they would rather be entertained by the television.  They would rather sit back on the couch and watch Dancing with the Stars.  This is a show where I haven’t even heard of the so-called stars.  Watch dancing?  Are you serious?  I was forced to take ballroom dancing in 8th grade with “Mr. Al.”  Hated it then and don’t watch it now.

Do I really need to know or care about which rather large person can lose the most weight on The Biggest Loser?  Am I supposed to be entertained by a network show that concludes with obese people standing on a weight scale?

I don’t get the X Factor, Survivor, American Idol or America’s Next Top Model.  Don’t even get me started with Jersey Shore.  Someone please, give me one, just one, valid reason to watch such numbingly bad television.  I don’t even understand the popularity of CSI, the show that is as fake as the backdrops were on Bonanza.

What about the greatest sham pulled on the American public this year?  How many millions and millions of misguided fools watched and continue to follow the Kim Kardashian marriage saga?  Why am I supposed to be enthralled about the life of a wanna-be celebrity?  A woman made famous by a sex tape, gets married and 72 days later wants a divorce.  What a joke, and the punch line is on the ever-caring public as she laughs all the way to the bank.

Turn it off.  Tune it out.

Instead, take a trip to the not to distant future with Suzanne Collins in The Hunger Games or help D.D. Warren solve the case in Lisa Gardner’s Love You More.  

I’m not taking calls right now I’m on another journey, this time with James Rollins in The Devil Colony.

Come Monday:  Here at Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static we celebrate the survival of another weekend!  And if it’s Monday, it’s time to start reading a new book.  On this day, we will go to the bookstore, the digital library and even dust off a few books on the bookshelf.  We will not only explore reasons to read, but also discuss other topics including book v. the movie.  Together we will also revisit some classics and look at how they are holding up with time, discuss our favorites, etc.

Remember if you are enjoying yourself here at my blog site you can easily subscribe to this blog and have each post delivered to your email address.  It’s kind of like a free Christmas present delivered to your box three days a week.  It’s almost as enjoyable as finding just one more beer hidden in the back of the refrigerator when you thought you were all out.  Just click the subscribe icon at the top right of this page and the gifts will keep on coming!

Danger, Dope and Drunks – The First Concert

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blogging, Blogs, danger, dope, drunks, First Concert, Houston, Joel Osteen, KISS, KISS Army, Lost in a Drunken Banquet of Static, music, mystery writer, Styx, Summit ARena, Tim L O'Brien, Tim O'Brien, writer

For four impressionable teenage innocent boys, it was a night met with as much anticipation as Christmas Eve.  We were going to our first concert.

Tickets were hard to come by, but not near as difficult as negotiations with our parents.  We pledged to do anything – including improve our grades!  After prolonged begging, we were allowed to attend the biggest and most popular concert on tour that year.  Stipulations were placed on our attending, but we didn’t care.

Our bedroom walls were decorated with posters of the band.  We had bought every album and eight-track (remember those?) and knew the words to every song.  We were even official members of the fan club, or Army as the band called us.  The band had sold out two shows in our town and we were headed to the second night’s concert!

On September 2, 1977, we arrived at Summit Arena in Houston, Texas a full hour before the doors were to open.  We milled around outside taking in the atmosphere with our two “grown up” chaperones.  Yes, they were part of the stipulations handed down to us.  Once the doors finally opened, and the crowd started to rush in our excitement level began to rise.  This was it.  The big night.

Just as the four of us were set to enter the “grown up” chaperones notified us that they were not going in and would wait outside the arena for us once the concert was over.  A small level of anxiety set in.  We had never been to a concert before and by the looks of the characters in the crowd we were just a little out of our element here.

Setting fear of the unknown aside, we rushed into the arena and found our seats.  Our tickets were in the upper most level and in the far back.  We were only a few rows away from having the worst seats in the concert hall, but we could care less.

That is until we spotted the guy struggling to walk up the steps.  One hand tightly held the handrail, the other circled around him like a helicopter blade as he tried to maintain some level of balance.  His long black hair waved back and forth, dancing across his face like car wash brushes across the hood of your car.  His eyes were half-opened and unfocused as his head flopped around like it was on a puppet string.

The four of us spotted him at the same time.  We elbowed each other in the side, but were too afraid to say a word.  The guy continued to stumble his way up the aisle closer and closer to our seats.  On several occasions he nearly let go of the rail and somehow avoided falling into the people seated along the aisle.  He continued closer and closer to us.  Time to panic.  We were young, but not dumb.  We knew what was about to happen.

As fast as we could see it coming, we saw it coming.  A steady stream of Pepto-Bismal colored vomit erupted and landed all over the poor kid sitting on the aisle step below us.  The kids head was turned away talking to his friend and never saw what we saw coming.  We didn’t know if we should run, scream or laugh.  There was no way we could offer the pink colored kid any help.  So we just sat there in stunned silence.

As would become a tradition for every concert, my friend and I decided now would be an opportune time to buy our concert shirts.  The concourse was packed with people from a world two 15-year-olds had never seen before.  The kids our own age had hair longer than our sisters.  There were Afros the size of over-inflated basketballs.  Men wore makeup, and the women, well lets just say they were confused as to which bathroom to use.  Everyone was dressed in costume, and we were still over a month away from Halloween.

We made our purchases, and as we turned to head back to our seats we were greeted by a couple of rather large Hispanic men.  They demanded we hand over our concert shirts.  We stood in shock.  Frozen in complete fear.  Suddenly one of them reached out and grabbed my buddy’s concert shirt.  Natural instinct set in.  Chris immediately, and with all the force and muscle he could gather, pulled back.  It was then that we saw the switch blade knife fall out the man’s hand and onto the ground.

We had no doubt what to do next.  We ran!

Once back in our seats the voices of our parents concerns began to make a little sense.  Maybe, just maybe they were right. Concerts are dangerous and no place for four teenagers.  But the parental voices in my head were soon turned off as the arena lights went dark.  The moment had come.  A loud roar of anticipation came from the crowd.  People held up lighters illuminating the crowd in an orange glow.

The PA announcer came over the sound system:  “YOU WANTED THE BEST AND YOU GOT THE BEST.  THE HOTTEST BAND IN THE LAND….KISS!!”  

Our eyes were glued to the stage and the pyrotechnic show.  The band came out playing “I Stole Your Love.”  Our little juvenile heads bobbed to the beat of the music.  Smiles were transfixed across our face.  We raised our fisted arms in triumph.

Then something funny started to happen.  It was if someone had let a family of skunks loose in the arena.  The “skunky” smell came from all-around us!  Suddenly, little, white, hand-rolled cigarette-looking objects were passed our way.  What the hell?  We passed them right back.  Offering our best and polite “no thank you.”  We were warned (yes by our parents) about marijuana at concerts.  Well, this skunk smell must be it.  For the first time in our lives, our senses took in the smell of pot.  I have to admit, I still like the smell.  Just never been a fan of partaking.

The band played all the fan favorites and as usual put on an entertaining show.  They performed all the antics we had read about – fire breathing, blood spewing, explosions, smoking guitars.  We left the concert excited as if we had been to the mountaintop.  We were on our own “natural” high, or maybe a second-hand smoke high.  We met our two chaperones outside and told them what a great concert they missed.  They music was so loud, they said, they sat outside and could hear the entire show.  I could tell they were relieved it was over, and we had made it out safe and sound.

I look back at that concert with fond and amusing memories.  Did we actually go see four grown men dressed in makeup and high-heeled boots?  It’s strange that my former concert arena, which hosted the best and loudest concerts, and played host to thousands of drunks and dope heads is now home to preacher Joel Osteen.  The Houston televangelist turned the arena into a church.  He better perform an exorcism if he expects to rid all the demons from that place!

I don’t remember if we ever lived up to our promise to make better grades.  I have a feeling we didn’t.  Our little world was never the same after that night.  But I’ll never forget my first concert when the circus came to town.

Going to your first concert is like a first kiss (no pun intended) or a first date.  Do you remember your first concert?  Did you walk through mysterious doors into a world never seen before?  Can you remember the opening band?  (FYI – the opening band that night was Styx.)  What long-lasting memories came from that night?