Open letter to guy yelling "Freebird!" at concerts

Dear guy yelling "Freebird" at concerts:

Stop. Please, for the love of God, stop. Its just not funny. It may have been funny 20 years ago, but at some point in the 90's, it went from funny to hit me in the forehead with a tire iron not funny.

Its not making a comeback. Its not "clever" to yell it. The only people laughing are on dangerous combinations of speed and Jack Daniels. The rest of us want you to get run over by the tour bus after the concert/club/bar mitzvah.

Don't take this the wrong way. I know you mean well. You feel you are part of the show and you've heard other people yell it before. If it was funny for them, why can't it be funny for you?

Because it can't be. Its over. Lynyrd Skynyrd doesn't want to hear you yell "Freebird!" anymore. Your drunk cousin/neighbor/pastor doesn't want to hear you yell "Freebird!" anymore. The guy wearing the "Frankie says Relax" t-shirt thinks its over.

I don't even think you really want to hear "Freebird". You may not even know the song. It's like 27 minutes long. You just like to be the guy yelling "Freebird!". Its understandable, if a little pathetic. Here's the problem..your need to be a part of the show is intruding on the rest of our rights to enjoy the show.

Buy "Guitar Hero" or "Rock Band" for Nintendo Wii. They may have "Freebird" on there. Go down to your parents basement, plug it in, invite the 3 other guys who thinks its funny to yell "Freebird!" and go to town. Play it til it hurts. In between each playing of "Freebird" take turns yelling "Freebird!". Do it as long as you like, or until your mom tells you guys its really time to go home. (side note: Take it easy on your Mom - this is not how she pictured her life, with you living at home in your late 30's still living in her basement. Get your own place soon, mmkay?)

You will be tempted. There will be a pause in between songs at a show, a pause that would seem ideally suited for you to yell "Freebird". The band may even ask for requests at a show, and it may physically hurt you to not yell "Freebird". But every time you don't yell it you get some credibility back. You might not notice it at first, but soon people will look at you in a different light. Its the "I don't yell 'Freebird' anymore" glow. You'll be invited to parties and girls without severe emotional issues will return your phone calls. You'll get the day shift at Hardees. Your life will change for the better.

And so will ours. On behalf of everyone, I thank you for your time.

P.S. Would it be too much to ask to have you not hold up your lighter during the "slow" song?

swampland.com/.../lynyrd_skynyrd_arti.jpg

First 100 Days

I've been following the reports of President Obama's accomplishments during the first 100 days of his term with interest. I'm not sure what we can learn during such a short amount of time, but here's a start.

1) He's not George Bush.
2) He is handsomer and suaver than George Bush.
3) He might be spending my kids kids money right now (sorry future grandson/part cylon boy Zyklar 5000)
4) He's not George Bush.

But it did get me thinking. What the hell have I done in the past 100 days of any significance?

1) I taught my 2 year old son how to say "Monster Truck" in the monster truck "SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY" guy voice.
2) I joined Facebook. Realized I was old. Saw my sister and brother join as well. Felt younger.
3) I joined Twitter. I have 999,9999 less followers than Ashton Kutcher.
4) I started blogging.
5) I helped move my sister in law into an apartment the size of a Yugo. (but its a lovely place, Dee Dee)
6) I forgot my password to Twitter.
7) I backed my car out of the garage but inconveniently left the passenger side mirror in the garage.
8) I didn't authorize shooting any pirates, but did watch "Thor: Hammer of the Gods" on Sci-Fi.
9) I watched my 401K fund turn into "beer money" overnight.
10) I'm not George Bush either.

My 100 days grade: C-

Two jobs I think I could do

I know I'll never be a construction worker (afraid of heights), or work in the circus (terrified of clowns). Prospects are dimming for me to become a rock star, professional basketball player or French attache.

I feel if I did do a career switch, there are two jobs I know I could do, and do very well.

1. Taco Bell: Product development specialist

Every menu item and new product launch seems to consist of various combinations of the following: beans, cheese, meat, rice and something to wrap it up with - either crunchy, soft or both. Add a "wild-card" element - something "spicy", a sauce, sour cream, guacamole, etc.. Come up with a catchy name then place ads on shows that dudes watch from their couch (sports, extreme midget wrestling, repeats of "Roadhouse")...and count the money.

Example: The "Loco Taco": Chicken, beans, rice wrapped in a flour tortilla with a side of spicy cheese sauce.

2. High-end apartment community namer

Similar in job skills as the Taco Bell PDS, this position seems to require naming communities something serene, using combinations of words that make someone living in a suburb feel like they're living by the Caribbean.

Example of words to use: (throw in an "at" or "on" or a "by" to make them flow)

Nautical/nature: Lake, Water, Bay, Breeze, Shore, Glen, Cove, Woods, River, Meadows, Oak
Peaceful words: Renaissance, Rolling, Shady, Oasis
Fancypants names: Ashton, Chamberlain, Worthington


Bay Oasis at Glen Cove
Chamberlain Woods by River Oak
Rolling Meadows on Bayshore.

Why do I make blog now?

Several years ago, right before Jennifer and I decided to jump back into our reproductive odyssey/nightmare (chronicled much better in my wife's great blog flesworthy.com), we vacationed for a week in Paris. (can I say we were on Holiday? Sounds more Euro.) So on Holiday, we lived in a small apartment where the elevator was the approximate size of our refrigerator at home. We had a fantastic week of crepes, tours of churches and art appreciation. After visiting several museums, we decided to stick close to home and see the Pompidou Center - a modern art museum that was only a few blocks away.

I feel like I appreciate art as much as the next guy (if the next guy is also an average American who knows more about fantasy football then art). I knew modern art would challenge my midwest sensibilities, but I was game. So we walked among the floors looking at the various metal thingies and collection of weird objects, and I kept my mind open. Not my kind of art, but I suppose that was the point. My midwest American mind probably shouldn't "get it".

There were two pieces of art that summed up just how much I didn't get it. The first was a video loop of a guy moving his arms around randomly while saying "I am making art". He would continue to move his arms (Voguing? I thought) and kept repeating "I am making art." Over and over and over again.

I was kind of intrigued by this proclamation. Really? You are? Just because you say so? But his "art" was featured in one of the most famous modern art museums, so I had to concede his point. He apparently, was making art. The rest of the trip, and shortly after, Jennifer and I would occasionally say "I am making art" and move our arms around. We do amuse each other this way.

So when thinking of a name for this blog, I thought of that guy. He was making art, so why couldn't I make blog? I can have a blog, just like anyone else with an internet connection can have a blog. No one has to review my submissions to see if they are "blogworthy". (wait a second.... "Blog Worthy?" is that a better name for my blog? Maybe, but then I'd have to skip this story... never mind.)

So this will be my experiment in writing my random collection of thoughts, waving my arms around randomly and wondering if anyone "gets it". Probably not, but that's okay. My wife will read it. I think. At least she'll say she does. She's nice that way.

I'll probably write about things that amuse, confuse or disturb me. Pop culture, politics, work, living with wonderful and completely insane kids, etc.. I might mix in some short fiction every now and then. If you have any suggestions, by all means, let me know. I will wave my arms randomly for you, just as I wave them for me. I am making blog.

Oh, and I almost forgot the second piece of art that summed up why I didn't "get" modern art. It was a close up of a man's scrotum, and the unseen man that scrotum belonged to was squishing it up and stretching it and doing other horrible things to it. Dude, you're not making art - you're making me vomit.

AW