Eulogy.

Well, old friend, your time on this earth is done. Growing up with you was truly an honor. You were more than a friend, you were a member of our family. Maybe it's because you were the closest thing to a little brother I ever had. Or maybe it was because Mom confused us for each other all the time. At any rate, you will be missed. You went by many names: Willie, Wilbert, Lou, Lou-Lou, Humper, Heyou, or even just Dog. Your time with us was not wasted, not a single second. I can't think of a single family event that didn't involve you in some way. People say dogs do not dream, but you proved them all wrong. Every day you worked on your singing career when it was time for "Final Jeopardy!" And you must have wanted to be a pirate, for every house you lived in with us had its own poop deck. 14 years is a long time to live with someone, but with you, it was never a dull moment. Even after I left home, and would come home for holidays, you greeted me as if I'd never left. You had so much love for us, as we did for you. And so it is with a heavy heart that I must say goodbye. Goodbye Licker of Faces, Lover of Cheese, Stealer of Socks, Chaser of Rabbits, Marker of Drapes, Eater of Money, Biter of Dog Groomers, Breaker of Wind, Wagger of Nub, Hogger of Air-Conditioning, Stealer of Underwear, Scratcher of Doors, and Dragger of Butt Across the Carpet. Goodbye Willie.

Goodbye Friend.

Willie Watson
1989 - 2003

One last thing: Beware the Pencils of Doom. Whoop.

Just a quick post.

It is Thursday night/Friday morning. It's been a busy week. Most importantly, the show. The show was an overwhelming success. We were on. We had a great audience. For those of you who missed out, the Bastards performed "Whine Tasting", "Drunken Letters to Inanimate Objects", the hit song "Aquaman", and to wrap up the evening, "Maine Guys". The people ate it up with a knife and fork. Hopefully, we'll be recording soon, and start getting geared up for our first solo performance in the new year. Start waiting in line now, folks.

Other news. My annual employee evaluation was this week. The head honcho from my department came down from HQ. I only got one mark that was less than satisfactory. Apparently I need to be more assertive. Well....I guess I can see where they're coming from.....If they think that's true....I suppose they're right.....Maybe I can try.....Ah, screw it. I am a door mat. Wipe your feet, and don't track any mud in here. I love the fact that I can air my grievances with the company, and they view it as "constructive criticism". As many of you know, I'm not content unless I have something to complain about. So that suits me just fine.

OK, well, I think that's enough. I want to read more of my book. (I highly recommend you read Stephen King's Dark Tower series if you haven't already done so. The fifth installment just came out not too long ago.)

Goodnight to everyone, and whoop to you.

BRING ON THE FUNNY!

THE BASTARDS KARAMAZOV
will perform as part of

Rev. Brimstone's Lunar Menagerie
Monday, November 17th 9 PM
@ The Way Out Club
2525 S. Jefferson
Cover $5

Come for the drinks, stay for the comedy.

OK, I have no idea what that last post was all about. Forgive me. Forgive this loveable, pudgy bastard.

Embrace My Pudginess

Skinny people of the world, I implore you: Embrace my pudginess. You may call me husky, bulky or large, but I am none of these. I am pudgy. I recognize your annoyance and discomfort with my condition, and I know why. You are jealous. Jealous of the pudginess. You ask yourself, "Why not me?" You may scoff at me all you like, but I recognize envy when I see it. While you stand outside, bundled in your heavy coats and scarves. You are filled with an unparalleled jealousy when you see me standing in 3 feet of snow, with my baggy shorts and t-shirt......sweating. Yes, my pudginess acts as a natural insulation. You see me in photos, in videos. They say the camera adds 10 pounds. You know where those 10 wonderful pounds go? Straight to the pudginess. So I say "More cameras, please." Give me 3, nay, 4 cameras. But that is my limit. After 4 cameras, the pudginess becomes a being of its own. You would be unable to stop it. If that day comes, I shall weep for the pudginess.

And you may ask yourself, "Why am I so attracted to that husky fellow?" But I know the answer. The pudginess makes me irresistable to the ladies. You all want to hug me. Embrace me. Embrace my pudginess. But sadly, it will not last. You may find me adorable, cute, and cuddly. But sadly, the pudgy gentleman was not meant for just one person. I must spread the joys of pudginess to everyone in the world. wherever there is someone in need of a soft, cushy chair, my pudginess and I will be waiting in the wings. Wherever there is someone in need of a punching bag, my pudginess is more than willing to volunteer. People demand it. And my pudginess is no slouch when asked to serve its purpose.

So once again, my skinny compatriots, get over your envy, and please embrace it. Embrace my pudginess.

A story:

So the Grocery Strike has been over for 4 days now. As I made my first trip into the scab-free Schnucks, I was greeted by a somewhat limited selection of items available. As I neared the checkout, I went over to a rack to pick up some gum. I was walking back to my cart when an elderly woman stopped me. She asked, "Could you help me?" Not thinking much of it, and always wanting to aid octogenarian whenever possible, I replied, "Sure." "Could you grab me a can of sliced pineapple? I can't seem to find it." I noticed we were nowhere near the canned fruit aisle, but the lady looked at me as if I should hop to and go fetch her item. After a second or two, I looked at the lady and said "Ma'am, I don't work here." The woman looked absolutely shocked that I would talk to her, a customer, in such a way. She then leaned in for a good look at me and my clothes. After several seconds of squinting at me from a distance of 1 foot, the lady flashed a look of embarrassment, then gave me a look of contempt for "my clever ruse". She walked away, in search of someone I hoped had a nametag, and not another unsuspecting customer with a black t-shirt with a giant letter "F" on it.

This is not the first incident involving me and a case of mistaken identity. In my younger years, at college, many people said I looked like the lead singer of Sugar Ray. Although I was flattered and exploited it whenever possible, I soon grew tired of being labeled "Sugar Ray". So I shaved my head. A few weeks later, I was shopping at Target, glad to be rid of my Mark McGrath classification. However, when I got to the checkout, the clerk stared at me for about a minute. Then she told me "Honey, you know who you look like? That guy who's in that band....What was it?" "Sugar Ray?" "Yeah, that's the one. You look like him. You just need to grow your hair out."

And just this morning, I was making a purchase at the gas station, when the clerk looked over at me and asked "Hey dude, are you in a band?" "No." "That's weird man, because I could have sworn you were the guitar player from Unchained. Man, I was all stoked. But that's too bad you're not him."

All these people have been mistaken me for someone else. What's wrong with just being me? Whoop.

Hey folks.
I just realized I haven't updated this blog for a week! Where does the time go? Anyway, I just wanted to let all two of you know that I'm still here. It's been a busy week. So let's talk about Halloween. It's a good holiday. I spent the evening at the Rocket Bar for a little Scary-okie. Not bad. After my rendition of the Cars' "Just What I Needed", I've decided to put my professional karaoke career on hold. I didn't take any photos as I had planned. But for those of you who have to know, I was the ghost of Elvis. It worked okay, except for a few minor problems:
1. Make-up is not fun. If you want face paint to stay on, don't sweat, scratch any itches, or breathe.
2. Whoever desgnated the sizes for jumpsuits needs to rethink their system. Skin tight polyester is not comfortable.
3. How did Elvis do it? He wore these things all the time. Not ONE pocket. Where did he keep his wallet? or his keys? And where the hell would Elvis put his cell phone? I mean, c'mon people....
But the night had a good end. I'll leave it at that. And on that note, I say good evenin' to you all. And whoop. Always with the whoop.