I was pokin’ ’round the swamp, and was reminded by Spud of a song I liked, as well as a movie that song was in. His post got me to thinkin’ about the bands/singers I’d seen in concert.

Here they be.

Styx
Rush
Black Sabbath
Sammy Hagar
Pink Floyd
Genisis
Rolling Stones
Kansas
Bob Marley
The Scorpians
The Firm
Pretenders
Willie Nelson
Waylon Jennings
Hank Jr.
Charlie Daniels
Metallica
Judas Priest
38 Special
Molley Hatchet

There may have been more then that, but thats all I can remember at present. Any that aren’t listed must’ve been really, really, good concerts.

The Rolling Stones concert was a bit of an eye opener for a ‘Neck. We parked in Cleveland, and took the bus to the stadium. Upon gettin’ off the bus, all these people hit us up for “change”. We’re severely chinese eyed and just look at each other like WTF? Not ’cause we were against givin’ but just ’cause we were in an altered state at the time… That wasn’t exactly what we had in mind for what would await us after we stepped off the short bus. We were just tryin’ to get inside, find our seats. There was about 8 of us on that trip. I was probably 16 or 17 at that time. Bob Marley, well, frisbees and beach balls were flyin’ everywhere but that “scene” became borin’ not long after it started, and since we were there primarlily for Kansas, and the Stones… there were some in the group of 8 that decided to, nap… Poor bastards.

Dude I was sittin’ beside had a pack of Kools in his pocket. Being the devious ‘Neck I am, I had some cigarrette loads. Yes people, being a smoker I knew the first thing he’d do when he “came to” and Kansas hit the stage was “spark one up”. I had removed his cig’s from his shirt pocket and poked the little rice like loads into several of his smokes, not knowin’ which one he’d fire up.

Went back to watchin’ the frisbee’s fly and enjoyin’ the “ambiance”. Ol’ Bob finally came and went, and Kansas took the stage. One of the other fella’s woke this sleepy dude up, and sure as shit, he reached for his shirt pocket, pulled out a cigarette and tried his ass off to light it. Still a bit groggy… he had to try to light it twice. ‘Magine that. Finally he get’s it lit, and takes a good long drag on it.. BLAP! The end of the cigarette peeled back just like in the cartoons when somethin’ explodes in a barrel. It splits and curls back. Some gigglin’ at this poor fool, and some acknowledgin’ that none of us had ever seen it before and dude decides to “reload”. And he did. And the same thing happened. Now he’s missin’ the show ’cause he’s got explodin’ smokes and everyone he’s lightin’ is goin’ off on him. To keep this fella a little “off guard” the foot long one we’d rolled was bein’ passed back and forth tween the eight of us so his groggy little melon was bein’ ambushed while he was tryin’ to figure out just what the hell was goin’ on. Somebody finally cracked and gave it up. Bastards… I could’ve gleefully watched him blow up ‘bacca for the rest of the show. The look on his face every time he’d spark one and it’d blow was … Just hilarious. Like he couldn’t believe out of all the packs of smokes in the world, he’d gotten the one where every cig blew up.

Crank out your concerts and concert stories. Smoke Tell ‘em if you got ‘em.

Hell, I didn’t think she had it in her, but I swear… I think somebody just about gets how I’ve been thinkin’ lately about many things…

The Gunslinger shifted in his saddle as he made his way out west towards the Lazy B Ranch. It had been a long day, with most of it spent on top of his horse. He was tired and hungry. The dust from the dry trails covered his clothing, much like flies on shit. It suited his mood. He felt like shit. He felt like Fido’s ass. He wanted a drink or three.

‘Sis was made the HWIC of Chapter two of the Blog Western. The One man Just Damn Band, was tapped lead off batter in the project.

TFO’s got the lineup over on her scorecard… I’m gonna wait till the end. I usually do with these puppies nowadays, ’cause as much as I loved the first go ’round. I found that after readin’ one of the parts, I wanted to “finish” the deal. I’d read the first one, and then the second, and then I’d have to re-read the first one again and the second all in one sittin’ to get a feel for how they came together. And then, the 3rd one would roll out… kinda like the shampoo bottle says… lather, rinse, repeat …

By the time all eleventy pieces got done I damned near could’ve had ‘em all memorized except for the last couple. After a while it reminded me of waitin for nekkid lady pictures to study artwork on the internet back when all I had was a dial up connection. A little bit now, a little bit later, a little bit more… Aw damnit, just show my the boobies artwork!

Well, that’s about it for this sleep cycle of my life. Tomorrow’s double header has generously been rained out in advance. Now, if I could just bring myself to push a lawnmower acrossed the swamp of a backyard I have that hasn’t been cut yet this season. See, it’s got those “dog turd hot spots”. You know, the spots where the grass grows up about twice the size of, and much deeper green then the grass just outside of the effective fertilizin’ range of a dog turd. That kind of “grass” grows better then a hair out of a mole. It’s thicker too.

Bitterman, Moogie, Sam, Dash, thanks for the kind words. I appreciate ‘em.

I’m off to a ball game. Starts at 6:00 PM. Don’t know what’ll be up after that, but hopefully I can find some peace somewhere. I don’t know if we’ll win tonight or not. We should. I know that much, but last nights practice turned out only 7 players of 11. To me, that says that there are some folks that are just fine with livin’ off last years record and respect. That aint gonna cut it this year. I just hope it doesn’t take all year for some folks to realize that.

He told Hank he wanted half of everything he’d made, or he have to tell Audrey ’bout some women

I ain’t laid no other women, but I sure can feel that kinda pressure about now. Not the “pressure” to lay another woman, but the pressure of not bein’ able to “love the one you’re with”…

Anybody ’sides me ever feel like just sayin’, “Fuck It. Have it your way. Rack me, I’m out.”? I do.

I’ve had about enough of overpaid athletes that use “performance enhancin’ drugs” and get caught, then claim that it’s all about entertainment. Bullshit. Let me ask you this. What is the “entertainment value” in knowin’ somebody is jucin’ up to be able to do what they do better?

I can somewhat see cheatin’ with machines, or “bendin’ the rules”. No self respectin’ RedNeck can’t? Here’s my bitch with this “It’s all about the entertainment” line when it comes to gettin’ busted for pumpin’ juice. It ain’t entertainin’ anymore. Once I figure out, you’re a “fake”, you’re a gotdamned fake… WTF?

When my scrawny ass was liftin’ lead in somebody’s garage in the summers around here, thinkin’, hell, believin’ we were gonna be the next Jack Youngblood, or Deacon “Slap yo ass silly” Jones… the fact that they actually had to WORK to get to be the way they were WAS the entertainment. Readin’ about the things they did to acheive their successes, and tryin’ to repeat that work ethic so you could to, was 1/2 or more of the fun. The fact that we believed we could work just as hard as we imagined they did made it all the more entertaining to “youngsters”. To find out that somebody “took the needle” or “the creme” to take a shortcut to the “record” kinda pisses it all away for me. If it’s somethin’ worth strivin’ to do, it’s usually not somethin’ that comes easy. Maybe entertainment isn’t the word I should be stirrin’ up here. Perhaps the word is emulation. When we belived that professional athletes were people with some morals and sense of fair play, they were entertaining. Once you find out that anything can be bought, the entertainment fact of the matter goes right down the shitter in my book.

Your Daddy rich? Wanna be a star athlete? No problem. Eat these, rub this on ya, or inject this. You’ll be that before you know it son.

For some reason, and I don’t know why… that last sentence just sent me off to another direction. I’ll button it up with this. Steroids suck when they’re used for somethin’ other then healin’ people or animals. They tarnish what the profess to accentuate. People pretendin’ to use ‘em for “entertainment” value need to work harder to get better and quit takin’ the quick and easy way out.

Now, there’s a Hank Jr. song callin’ me that I’ll post as a follow up, so you all won’t think I’m any more absent minded then I am. I swear it’s not the ‘roids’ I’m takin’, and even if it was, wouldn’t that be “entertainin’”. I’m lookin’ for Congress to have a meetin’ about blogger’s on ‘roids. That’d be some more time well spent by our representatives… and probably just as productive.