Friday, the best night of the week of music.
You can't find a better bargain anywhere. Five nights of great music for $35.00!
Credence Clearwater takes the stage tonight, followed by three hours of '60's rock on the 'south stage'! Commander, we are ready!
Tomorrow night Martina McBride (a fine Irish girl) & Little Big Town will make us guys drool. Then Jake McVey and Unknown Highway on the 'south stage'. I have been so busy drinking and listening that I don't have time to blog!
Sunday, some guy named Ted Nugent. God, I thought he was dead! Then fireworks, and it's over for another year. Oh, it goes so fast! We've seen the greatest over the past 45 years. From Louis Armstrong to Jonny Lang, it just keeps getting better.
See you guys whenever I sober up!
Joe

What is my mind doing? Physically crippled, I drink my, pleasantly hot coffee, and I smoke this wet-hey-tasting cigarette. I’m on that pill, Chantix, to quit smoking! It’s a real battle between me, and these foul dudes! I really don't want to quit yet; I think it's a mistake to do this until I WANT to. My wife insisted! If I get to liking this crappy taste, I may end up smoking more! You’d think I had no chance, whatsoever, for having a formidable day. Well, that’s not true!
Each morning, if, and when, I open my eyes, I pray to my God, thanking him “for allowing me into another day”.
Remember, every day is a new beginning, a trust given to us by our time on Earth. Each new day allows us the opportunity to make our lives better for us, and for others. Every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, can allow us to love, in some way. We can continue the good, and we can change what is bad, every single day. With your mind you can, surgically, cut depression’s tumor from your time! It is your time! You own it! How dare anything try to destroy it! You really are that “Army of one”!
I say: Be glad you’re alive. Be proud of coming into another day. Be happy because it is easier. Love because it spreads nothing but good to the world. Be at peace with your self. And please, have a fun-loving, beautiful day.

So now, we have a new War Czar. How comforting it is to have someone who will now take command of our legendary war machine. But hold on there Joe boy, what’s this? The job came up, from somewhere, and not a single General wanted the job? Oh shit, the captains of mayhem don’t even wanted this job? I always heard you didn’t refuse the president, anything! I thought he was like the Godfather...

“General Shitwax, I have a favor for you.” the president said.
“Yes, Godf...er, Mr President, anything you need, sir!” General Shitwax snapped, sharply.
“There is a duty I need you to perform.”
“Yes, Godf...er, Mr President, what can I do?”
“I need someone to become our new War Czar.”
“Oh no you don’t motherfucker, you ain’t hangin’ the shit on me, brother! I ain’t no mothafuckin’ war, ass czar! Get yer fuckin’ ass someone else!” General Shitwax stomps, in cadence, out of the oval office.

“Well, get me General Buttthong!” the president demanded. He decides to be casual.
“Yes sir, what may I do for you?”
“Yes, Ihava,” the president thinks first name basis should work. “I have an important mission for you.” the word mission always works on these imbeciles!
“I’m always prepared for the duty of a new mission sir!” the general’s words are crisp, concise, and clear! The president curled his lip, in apprehension, corner-eyeing his defense secretary!
“We need someone special. Your name came up first for this.” Even though Buttthong had just seen another General come from the Oval Office, he was too stupid to know what was coming. His chest swelled with military bull shit. The president relaxed. “We need someone with a powerful presence such as yours, to become our new United States War Czar!” the president smiled, weakly. General Buttthong’s face waxed pasty. Crowds of green colored angst blew up in his eyes. Stains of piss ran down his cream colored Khakis. As he backed away he spoke, with terror.
“Oh sir, no sir, I’m too fuckin’ chicken-shit for this shit! Why I have a yellow streak runnin’ right up here!” the General ripped off his shirt and, sure enough, he did have a yellow streak running right up his back. The president looked at his secretary, in disbelief.
“Hey Ihave, take it easy,” the secretary said, “it’s okay; we’ll give another star, man! You be ahead of that ass hole, Shitwax!”
“Oh no you don’t. I don’t care if you give me nine stars, I ain’t takin’ the hit for this motherfuckin’ shit, man!” Buttthong’s butt hit the door as he backed off. He ran out screaming.

“Well, who do have left,” the president was exasperated.
“Just one, it’s General Snotrocket! I really didn’t want to get to him. You know, he’s almost too ready.”
“Well, get him. We need someone to do this.” the secretary showed him into the Oval Office!
“Yes, Mr President, what can I help you with today, sir.” Snotrocket had stars in his eyes. Someone saw pink underwear hanging from his shower stall once, and many thought he might have an alternative lifestyle going.
“I’m not going to pull any punches with you General Snotrocket. We have the most difficult job ever here, and we thought of you first for this. Snot rocket snapped to attention.
“Sir,” he shouted standing to attention, scaring the president, “my duty lies at your disposal. I am your certain ward!” the president and the secretary nearly snickered.
“Good then General Snotrocket, we need someone strong and capable to become our new War Czar.” General Snotrocket’s knees quivered, he turned pale, and gaunt.
“Pardon me, sir?” his lips turned, and his eyes were near to tears. “I, ah, I ah...” General Snotrocket’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the Oval Office floor, in a dead faint.
“Jesus, get this piece of shit outa’ here!” the president snarled. “What the hell are we going to do now?” he asked his secretary.
“I don’t know sir; there are no more Generals available.”
“Do you think Colin would take this? We fucked him over once...maybe we can...”
“Nah, not a chance sir!” the president stood and looked out the Oval Office window. He saw an officer walking across the Teramac. He threw open the window.

“Hey! Hey you, yeah you, come up here will you? I need to see you for a moment.”
“Yes sir, Mr President,” the officer shouted.
“Okay, listen!” the president sounded devious, “here’s what we’ll do. Don’t mention the word ‘Czar’! We’ll call him a... let’s see; okay I got it! We’ll call him a military advisor to the president. Yeah that’s it. That’s the ticket!”
“But sir, he’s not a General!” the secretary didn’t like a Lieutenant General being nominated for anything! Let alone, War Czar. It just didn’t fit!
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s a Private! Get him in here, damn it! We need a goddamn War Czar!”

That’s how Lieutenant General Douglas Lute became the first United States War Czar. When the morning papers came out calling him the “War Czar”, he fainted and puked. To bad Doug, this shit is all on you now, baby!

How about that happy meal some kid got,
with marijuana and a pipe in it? A
worker used it for his stash.
Gee, it makes me yearn for some McDonals!
DO I QUALIFY TO GET A HAPPY MEAL? I'm
only 64!
Joe

I wasn't even drunk. I was quite sober, and I went to get a pack of cigarettes from the store. It was 11:30 pm. I had them, securely in my possession, when a rounded the corner of the house and tripped over one of the many barrel-type flower pots that adorn our yard. Flip, flap, boom! I got up and walked out to the garage and watched the rest of the Cardinal game. (The boys are on the coast). On the way into the house it began to really, realyy, hurt. I hit the recliner, and slept there. The next morning, twarp! my ankle was puffed, and I couldn't put any weight on it. Diane took me to the emergency room...Broken! But at least it is broken vertically, and so I am wearing a "boot", with crutches, and cane. I've broken a finger, and a toe, and had an ankle sprain. This and the sprain were by far, the worst pain.
So, I'm a little cranky, but the Vicodin is good shit, man! Bones are a bitch when you break 'em, ya' know!
Joe