For Real; I Ain't Playin'

Are there some trendy 'phrases' that in a short time begin to irritate you as they do me? Here's one that's had a good run: "Let's be honest." I don't believe I fell victim using that head-scratch puzzling phrase. I say head-scratch and puzzling because people would interject the 'Let's be honest' comment at a conversational juncture where they felt they needed to bring some debate to conclusion through 'being' honest. Another way to look at the statement, 'Let's Honest' is the appearance and acknowledgment of the obvious and that is up until the moment we ask for honesty, we've all been bull-crapping and lying....Let's be honest...it is a dumb self-incriminating phrase!

A more recent but equally annoying phrase has overwhelmed in recent years: That phrase is>> "At the end of the day..." This communication suggests that from early morning and well into the evening, we all accept 'stuff' that ain't gunna cut it come bedtime. It seems towards day's end something changes and that 'stuff' we've been embracing all day long becomes worthless; someway there is a deal-breaker...won't float...it's a dog that don't hunt at night.

So my advice to you readers>> get with the program because 's*#t happens' 'at the end of the day! 'Let's be honest!' I mean come on, 'It is what it is!'
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Mean What You Say

The Swamp Cleaner-Upper

I give President Trump some credit on this one.  I must admit that I have been an out-spoken critic of this President and I am certain that I will continue. That said, I must acknowledge and give kudos to Trump for fulfilling one of his often repeated claims that, "If elected I'll drain the swamp in Washington D.C." Trump has been in the Oval Office nearly fifteen months and his 'actions' have gotten rid of 41-varmints. That's correct....an unprecedented 41-Republican Congressmen will not seek re-election to 'The House' as the November mid-terms arrive.

God Bless America and thank you Mr. Trump
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See Ya Later

Who's Crazy?

I've always believed that there is a mental wellness fine line between 'okay' and 'not okay.' If you prefer, call it 'sane' and 'crazy.' That said, if one seeks a definition of mental illness one will find multiple explanations. For the sake of this blog, I would advance the following 'mental illness definition:' "Any of various disorders characterized by impairment of the individuals' thoughts, emotions or social functioning, including schizophrenia and mood disorders such as bipolar disorders." After reading that definition three times, I am inclined to think most folks are slightly to severely canoeing 'in circles.'

I raise this issue of mental illness this morning because just yesterday while waiting at a coffee shop to meet with a graphics designer for a book cover, I over heard two old fart-contemporaries debating the gun violence solution. Of course, they both agreed that the entire problem was 'mental illness.' I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, 'Hell YES, you morons! Isn't anybody who uses a gun or any method to kill another human being (war excepted) is in fact, a  mentally ill person? Taking the life of another person would definitely fall under the category of 'unacceptable social functioning.'

Let's see...King Herod (crazy), Napoleon (crazy), Hitler (crazy), American Cowboys (crazy), Bonnie & Clyde (crazy), well I'm sure there's a few 'nut jobs' out there who would argue each of the aforementioned cases...that's why we have Criminal defense attorneys who get the 'rich' guilty guy   off with little punishment while the 'poor' innocent fella goes to the poky.

I watched the two gents leave the coffee shop and as one jumped into his pickup truck, sporting the Trump 'Make America Great Again' sticker, I just smiled and opened my Planters peanut bag and poured a handful into my Diet Coke. Say WHAT? You think dumping peanuts 🥜 into your soda is kinda crazy? Excuse me, have you ever tried it?
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Crazy Little Momma

Which Is It?

President Trump is on record stating numerous times that military Generals and past Presidents have erred announcing military intentions before their execution. He said it as a candidate and later after being elected. Now, today he tweets, for the world to read, "The missiles are coming Russia, get ready." Therefore, Trump has not only alerted the enemy in advance of what our military is going to do so they might get out of harms wa and protect valuable resources, our President compromises our military mission and possibly places OUR soldiers in harms way.

This man is a dangerous fool.
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Yes or No

Joyful Memories

Believe me friends when I tell you that as you age you will experience more arthritis in the body and more clutter in your surroundings. I am determined to accomplish a clean and organized garage this spring. I have been making this statment for three consecutive years and I am going to get it done this spring. My wife and I have been hoodwinking ourselves with the claim of holding a garage-sale. I'm no longer interested in that objective. I'm tossing or giving to The Salvation Army. I'm kinda looking forward to tackling the garage clean up project, perhaps I shall find a surprise or two; even a memory.

Yesterday, I was busy going through personal file in my office looking for specific photos that might compliment passages in a book I recently finished when I came across some 'stuff' my mother gave me a year or so before she died. The stuff was in a photo box of hers. As I rummaged through the contents, I saw a number of family members' newspaper obituaries. After reading them , I discovered I old news clips of family obituaries; they all seemed older back 'then.' In the box was a couple of very dated men's wallets. Both wallets had belonged to my mother's father, E. V. Bennett. Inside each wallet was a driver's license belonging to Grandpa E.V. One billfold held a note from my mother, which read: "Dad handed me this wallet the day he was taken to the hospital experiencing chest pains. The house key and dollar bill were in the wallet." That moment occurred  sixty-years ago this coming May. Grandpa died after a three day hospital stay.

Also in the box was a hotel receipt. Again, mother's note explained the artifact. The receipt was from  the Jefferson Hotel St. Louis, Missouri for a one night stay on October 16, 1937. The room cost was $4.00 with .09 tax...total bill $4.09; for my parents' honeymoon night. I also came across two 50th Anniversary Photos: one was that of my mother and father and the other was my maternal grandparents E.V. and Mammy Bennett...I attended both celebrations. Great times. Doesn't seem 'that' long ago.  As I continued my searching for more photos, I felt a bit of warmth and realized that a precious memory is a joy forever.
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Memories Are Made of This

It's A Beautiful Morning

Interesting how sleeping habits change in a lifetime. As an infant, I'm sure I slept like puppy; deeply and peacefully. During my teen years, I embraced life into the later hours and then hoped to sleep into the mid morning if allowed. Those bread-winning years seem to dictate a more regimented schedule. I went to bed after the ten o'clock news then up-and-go at the the alarm clock warning.

 Finally, came retirement years. I hear stories of folks enjoying afternoon naps, which either are unappealing or unnecessary for me personally. These days, I hit the pillow before the 10PM depressing news. I'd like to say that I sleep like a baby but I don't. Look, I'm seventy-nine. Whereas back in the day, I could palm a basketball, I'm certain today, I could not palm my prostate gland. Usually, it's about 4:30 AM the last time I walk Mr. Winky to the latrine. Frequently, I return to the sack only to begin fighting for elusive shut-eye. Perhaps around 5 or 5:30 AM, those mind games begin. Sleep busters for sure! One frequent thought is loss. Loss of love ones or dear friends. I recall laughter amongst family members or bantering between good buddies all of whom have departed this life. Suddenly, my  reminiscing reminds me that familiar faces are disappearing. My stories are finding road closures.

I refuse to lay there in that bed and allow melancholy-depression to fester. I get up and look for ways to embrace the challenges of a new day; a day with brand new possibilities. It could be a writing day, perhaps music recording for friends. Some church work thoughts or developing programs for the  annual basketball tournament I coordinate. Good weather finds me outdoors with walking exercise and yard work. Gotta keep on keepin' on. Like Morrie said, "When you're in bed, you're dead."
 Mitch Albom, 'Tuesday's With 'Morrie.'

And what a blessing to have family that keeps calling and making plans. Like the shoe slogan suggests: "Just Do It!"
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Its A Beautiful Morning

It Was a Shame

I suppose it was around 1952 and 1953, when I first stumbled onto the understanding of some pop music business shenanigans. Those dishonest maneuvering white guys fellas in the music recording-business. Here's my awareness moment: At age thirteen, I began seeking some R & B and straight Blues sounds on my radio. Whereas most of the local music stations played the more traditional teen music, I enjoyed the more earthy tones of the Black vocalists.

Listening to a Black owned music stations out of St.. Louis, I soon discovered that many 'Top 40 Hits' played on my White traditional radio stations, I had heard first on the Black radio stations. I discovered that many of the Black singers could not get their 'stuff' played of the bigger market White stations. Therefore, the Black written and Black recorded music could be easy pickin' for White singers. Take this scenario: Fats Domino would record 'Ain't That a Shame' but Pat Boone would come along and record the same song and have it become a big money-making hit. This happened to Little Richard when Boone took Richard's song 'Tutti Frutti' and made it a big hit.

Now, it would be easy to say bad things about Pat Boone about this but I won't. Boone wasn't the crook in this scam...the crooks were the record companies. You see, those fellas took advantage of the Black artists ignorance about 'copyright laws' and offered a meager amount of money to 'buy' the music from artists and have them sign away royalty claims on future sales. It's kinda like the deals early American white settlers made with Native Americans.

Let me tell you how goofy Pat Boone was back then. Before he agreed to re-record Fats Domino's  'Ain't That a Shame,' the weenie asked the recording executives if they could re-write the lyrics calling the song, "Isn't That A Shame." If you gave me free tickets today to a Pat Boone Concert they'd go unused.

Boone was not the only white artist that understood the ripe field of black music being barred from 'Whites Only Stations' in the large markets. Big Joe Turner's 'Shake Rattle & Roll' was snatched up by Bill Haley & The Comets. Of course, Joe's version is down right nasty! Even the King himself, Elvis took advantage....Well instead of explaining the 'Hound Dog' story, let me remind you that Elvis recorded Hound Dog in 1956..three years after Willie Mae 'Big Mama'' Thornton recorded 'Hound.'

Hit 'Play' and the link for 'Big Mama's' version.
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