Help A Brother Out.

From news services.

Johnny and June Carter Cash's lakeside house, where the couple lived for 35 years, is on the market in Hendersonville, Tennessee. Asking price: $2.9 million.
The 13, 880-square foot house and 4.6 acre property is on the edge of Old Hickory Lake. Seven pieces of antique furniture, including the Cash's bed, are included in the sale.

Since I need a bigger and better place to live; preferably nearer my children in east Tennessee; and given my love of both history and music, I am proud to announce the following:

I am hereby establishing a fund (administered by me) to raise the funds for the purchase price of this historic property, in order that I can move into the barn and preserve this great American's home in pristine condition.

Send your donations (not yet tax-deductible) to me as soon as possible, so we can preserve Johnny Cash's surroundings for ourselves and our children to learn from and marvel at.

Think this is tongue in cheek? Guess again.

As I once said (prior to JC's death;)
"Johnny Cash shits cooler than most people live."

Even dead....
It's still true.
The Man In Black deserves a monument to his legacy.

A Thought For The Day.

I get high on life.

--Liza Minelli

Yeah, me too, Liza.

Guess those visits to the Betty Ford Clinic were just promotional movie junkets, then.....

Bumper Stickers of The Day.

WANTED: Meaningful overnight relationship.
BEER: It's not just for breakfast anymore.
So you're a feminist...Isn't that cute.
Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
All men are idiots....I married their king.
IRS: We've got what it takes to take what you've got.
Hard work has a future payoff. Laziness pays off now.
Reality is a crutch for people who can't handle drugs.
Out of my mind...Back in five minutes.
I took an IQ test and the results were negative.

And my favorite....

Rehab is for quitters.

Add one more in honor of Ribfest next weekend (yes, Gentle Reader, I'm a card-carrying member of PETA--People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.)

If we aren't supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat?

Your Forgotten Song of the Day. (Or, The Ultimate Online Jukebox.)

Kayleigh--Marillion (from the 1985 album 'Misplaced Childhood")

Do you remember, chalk hearts melting on a playground wall?
Do you remember, dawn escaped from moonwashed college halls?
Do you remember, the cherry blossom in the market square?
Do you remember, I thought it was confetti in our hair
By the way didn't I break your heart?
Please excuse me, I never meant to break your heart.
So sorry I never meant to break your heart.
But you broke mine.

Kayleigh is it too late to say I'm sorry.
Kayleigh could we get it together again.
I can't go on pretending
that it came to a natural end.
Kayleigh I never thought I'd miss you,
and Kayleigh I'd hoped that we'd always be friends.
We said our love would last forever,
so how did it come to this bitter end.

Do you remember, barefoot on the lawn with shooting stars
Do you remember, loving on the floor in Belsize Park
Do you remember, dancing in stilletos in the snow
Do you remember, you never understood I had to go.
By the way, didn't I break your heart ?
Please excuse me I never meant to break your heart
So sorry, I never meant to break your heart,
But you broke mine.

Kayleigh, I just want to say I'm sorry,
but Kayleigh I'm too scared to pick up the phone.
To find you've found another lover
to patch up our broken home.
Kayleigh, I'm still trying to write that love song,
Kayleigh it's more important to me now you're gone.
Maybe it'll prove that we were right
Or it will prove that I was wrong.

Marillion is a little-known, progressive English band of the early 80's that influenced modern rock bands like Radiohead, and remains a cult favorite in the UK and at least two Hoosier households (Ft. Wayne and Indianapolis.)

I, too, am still trying to write that love song...to either prove that we were right, or to prove that I was wrong. Call it mental exercise, or call it spiritual exorcism...either way, it's still in there, and I gotta get it out before I move on.
Damn sentimentalism.

Syncronicity, Too. (Part One.)

Well, looks like not only is the tire on my karmic wheel flat, but it would seem that someone has slashed all four tires.
Monday may go down as a life-changing day in my life.
Winds of change are blowing....and I have to remember that it's an ill wind that blows no good.
Cryptic enough?

More later, when facts are confirmed. No Newsweek-like faux pas here.

A Thought For The Day.

Racecar spelled backwards....


is racecar.

With all the articles recently about the hot, sexy, talented, hot, chewable Danica Patrick, you'd think this little tidbit would have been more publicized. Hmm.

The Best Part Of Waking Up.

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

How can you go wrong with the songwriting genius of Kris Kristofferson and the legendary Johnny Cash on vocals? As I sit here board op-ing syndicated programs (yep, just like 18 years ago), I think back to the early days of my career....doing Saturday overnights in Kendallville, and playing this song as the dawn broke (easy to slip the card to the front, and then back to where it belonged in the pre-computer days.) Great song for a quiet summer Sunday--or any other time, for that matter.

For April.

Carolina In The Pines
(Michael Martin Murphey)

She came to me said she knew me
Said she'd known me a long time
And she talked of being in love
With every mountain she had climbed

And she talked of trails she'd walked up
Far above the timberline
From that night on I knew I'd write songs
For Carolina in the pines.

There's a new moon on the fourteenth
First quarter twenty-first
And a full moon in the last week
Brings a fullness to the earth.

There's no guess work in the clockwork
Of the world's heart or mine
There are nights I only feel right
With Carolina in the pines.

As the frost grows on the windows
The wood stove smokes and glows
As the fire glows we can warm our souls
Makin' rainbows in the coals.

And we talk of trails we walk up
Far above the timberline
There are nights I only feel right
With Carolina in the pines.

That's the beauty and the curse of not living in a "Choose-Your-Own-Adventure" book.....you'll never know if the adventure you chose was better or worse than the alternative. The story line you hoped for could have turned out to have been as dark as a Stephen King novel...or, the one you threw aside could have been your ticket on the Hemisphere Dancer straight to the lush Alaskan landscape. You just never know in this life, I guess.

Oh well, I'd probably have hated the traffic on those famous Charleston bridges anyway.