“They can never take this from you, Mark. Never. You’ll always be a champion.”
It’s true what they say about time. Twenty years comes and goes in the blink of an eye. I could barely believe it when I got an invitation to return to my old high school for the twentieth anniversary of my state championship-winning football team. In the above picture, you’ll see nearly all of the young men and women who were seniors on that team and cheerleading squad, all of whom have gone on to have successful careers and families. Twenty years? How is that even possible?
Once I received the invitation, though, I never once doubted whether or not I would go. I wasn’t a star player, by any means. Just look at me, for God’s sake (I’m third from the right in the above picture—green shirt, green shoes). I’m not a large man. In fact, one of my colleagues at work told me that she didn’t really believe I had played high school football until she saw the pictures from the reunion on Facebook.
But there’s a certain bond that’s created when you go through what we went through as a group. Mrs. Bark says it would make a great movie script, and I think it would except that it’s too damned perfect. The collective power of every screenwriter at Disney couldn’t come up a story that was as sappy and saccharine sweet as what actually happened to us. Let me give you the breakdown:
Yes! I’m super excited to announce that I will be playing at The Slippery Noodle Inn in Indianapolis on September 11th and 12th with the Jeff Jensen Band!
Those of you who came over from the dearly departed Bark’s Doghouse (the domain barkm.com has expired, but you can still get there using barkm.wordpress.com if you feel the need) might remember my post about the Jeff Jensen Band. Well, since then, Jeff and the crew have released a new CD, entitled Morose Elephant, which is charting everywhere and contains some gorgeous blues. They completed their first European tour earlier this year, and they’re riding a huge wave of momentum as Jeff has been nominated for the Blues Foundation’s Rising Star award.
A few people have asked for a sort of weekly roundup on what Bark and I are writing out there in the big scary world beyond Riverside Green.
And I wanted to talk about the Yamaha YZF1000 “ThunderAce”, so this is a good time to do both.
Good news: Bass Player Patrick is returning from an extended hiatus in which he was too busy to play music with me because he was in the live orchestra for the musical Reefer Madness My annoyance at his absence was approximately equal to that felt by Antwan “Big Boi” Patton while he held up the double album so Andre 3000 could finish his acting commitments.
Now that Patrick is back in harness, it’s time to make some tough choices. And I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t see a greater meaning behind something that’s completely trivial.
It’s finally happened: two illegal immigrants have been appointed to government office in California.
Do Creeper Drones Have Rights? That’s what I asked you a few weeks ago, and surprisingly there was a fair bit of interest in the question.
I still don’t know what the answer is to that question, but when I say that I mean “I don’t know what the ethical answer will be.” I’m going to tell you what the actual answer is, and if you’re a drone “pilot” you won’t want to hear it.
Everybody’s talking about how noted douchebag wanna-be “outlaw” car-painter and thrift-shop impresario Magnus Walker crashed one of his “outlaw” 911s this past week. But nobody seems to know how it happened. But, as they say, the truth is out there, and I have it:
Doesn’t seem so ridiculous now, does it?
Well, that’s what happens when you have a one-party system masquerading as a two-party system… and someone decides to crash the party.