On a recent trip out of Charleston, I noticed a celebrity on my flight to Atlanta. None other than TV’s Jack Hanna was standing with his wife, waiting for his boarding zone to be called. I didn’t bother him. I like the man and I appreciate his work, but he’s not exactly the Crocodile Hunter. The odd thing about the encounter was that “Premium” was already boarding and I was next in “Sky” (because I foolishly paid more for the extra leg room and the free banana) and Jack and his wife weren’t in my boarding group. They were in coach with all the other people who weren’t international TV personalities or frequent Late Show with David Letterman guests. Continue reading “Jack Hanna Flies Coach”
Hop T. Hare loves baloney, but all he was allowed to eat was carrots. Hop was so sick of carrots. Once, he ate so many carrots, he turned orange.
One day, Hop was playing in a yard and he saw an open window. Normally, Rabbits don’t sneak into Human houses, but Hop had refused to eat his breakfast carrots this morning and he was starving. Hop, against all his Rabbit judgement, jumped through the window and went to the kitchen. Continue reading “Don’t Hate Carrots”
When I was a kid, I loved anything that you could fly. I remember getting these planes made out of Styrofoam that were about five feet long and could fly when you threw them. On the package, there were pictures of people doing amazing tricks with these toys. Not appearing on the package was the fact that you threw them once, they flew beautifully and then crashed into the ground or a tree and the wing would break and that was it. I bet I owned ten of them and broke every one. Continue reading “Droning On”
I have to make it known that I will no longer be attending dinners that include nine or more people. I can’t take it anymore. This weekend, I went to a birthday party that included 30 people for dinner. Well, I didn’t eat dinner with all of those people. I ate with about six of them. The rest of them were so far down the table that we weren’t together. I said hello and it ended there. The only thing we had in common at this dinner is that we were at the same table and couldn’t eat for 2.5 hours because there were 30 people to serve. Enough. No more. My anxiety can’t take it. Continue reading “My Last Supper”
For a dude that’s been around for a few hundred years, he hasn’t done much. Continue reading “Santa is Finished: Let’s give the Big Man the Boot”
There’s a trend in social media called “confess your unpopular opinion” where people say things like “I like mayonnaise on a hotdog” or “The Beatles are overrated.” I usually go with, “’Back to the Future’ movies stink.” Like most things on social media, this trend has zero significance. Disliking something popular isn’t “edgy.” Music and art is a matter of taste and if you don’t care for the Beatles, then that is a perfectly fine reaction to art but it doesn’t make them “overrated.” People love to use Carrot Top as an example of a hack comic. Hack comics don’t make $10 Million a year; they make your $5 Footlong at Subway.
A popular opinion among people who have no idea what they are talking about is that Ringo was a lucky bystander, swept up in the storm of Beatle mania and allowed to undeservingly succeed from it. Or if they were participating in the above trend, they would tweet “Ringo was great.” Ringo is great; you are the one who stinks. Continue reading “Ringo is Great; You Stink”
I don’t dance in public often. Except for being filled with a rare combination of alcohol and a well-stacked wedding buffet, I can’t say I dance in public ever. Alone in my car or the shower is a different story. There, should the mood strike, I’m pretty good on the fake bass guitar and lead vocals. Sorry you had to see that.
Anyway, last night I went to see a little ole band from Texas called ZZ Top in a theater in downtown Charleston. It was fantastic. Three guys don’t make it for forty plus years in the music business being terrible. The concert was great and the Top delivered like they always do. The people I was sitting around, however, did not with a capital “Dammit.” Continue reading “Meddling Concert Women”