It's a cop-out, but it's pretty entertaining stuff and also quite true...

The other day I received an e-mail from a friend containing some thoughts that most people ages 22-35 have pretty frequently...

(In no way do I take credit for any of these. Instead I'm just trying to spread some holiday cheer.)

-I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

-More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can
think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell
my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves
me.

-Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you
realize you're wrong.

-I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to
have fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and
sticks when they've invented the lighter?

-Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're
going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to
be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the
direction from which you came, you have to first do something like
check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to
yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're
crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

-That's enough, Nickelback.

-I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

-Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the "people you may know"
feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose
not to be friends with?

-Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't
work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically
fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all
know how to fix the p roblem? There was no internet or message boards
or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

-There is a great need for sarcasm font.

-Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and
suddenly realize I had no idea what the f was going on when I first
saw it.

-I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually
becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting
90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's
laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little
bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the
only one who really, really gets it.

-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than
take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

- I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear
your computer history if you die.

-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying t o
finish a text.

- A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the
spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

- Was learning cursive really necessary?

- LOL has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

- I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

- Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron
test is absolutely petrifying.

- Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart",
all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

- How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod
and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

- I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up
to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

- Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in'
examples, I will undoubtedly draw a b lank and sound like a complete
idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and
said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"

-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

- While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and
instinctively swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.

- MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I
know how to get out of my neighborhood.

- Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the
person died.

- I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the
shower first and THEN turn on the water.

-Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty,
and you can wear them forever.

- I would like to officially coin the phrase 'catching the swine flu'
to be used as a way to make fun of a friend for hooking up with an
overweight woman. Example: "Dave caught the swine flu last night."

-I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

- Bad decisions make good stories

-Whenever I'm facebook stalking someone and I find out that their
profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got
the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if
I do!

- Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

-If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring
would probably just be completely invisible.

-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go
around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly
nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be
a problem....

-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work
when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything
productive for the rest of the day.

-Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't
want to have to restart my collection.

- While watching the Olympics, I find myself cheering equally for
China and USA . No, I am not of Chinese descent, but I am fairly
certain that when Chinese athletes don’t win, they are executed.

-There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are
going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

-I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me
if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I
swear I did not make any changes to.

- "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people
watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will
they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't
watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and
leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

-I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello?
Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine time s and
goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone
and run away?

- I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not
seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

-When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she
hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light
internet stalking.

-I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle,
then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

-Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising
speed for pedophiles...

- As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers,
but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

-Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still
not know what time it is.

-It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

-I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to
answer when they call.

-Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn't know what do to with it.

-Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car
keys in a pocket, finding their iPod, and Pinning the Tail on the
Donkey - but I’d bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze
button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time
every time...

-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would
happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?

-It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and
the link takes me to a video instead of text.

-I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they
drive behind obeys the speed limit.

-I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

-I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

-The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw
they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words,
someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think
about it, and=2 0then estimated that there must be at least four
people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was
eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel like a fat
bastard before dinner

Have a swell rest of the week.

Tim Tebow parties in the USA...

There are things and people that come into our lives that we obviously love. And there are things and people that come into our lives that we obviously hate. But then there are a few things and people that we come across that we know we should hate, but we simply cannot.

Examples:

We love The Beatles. We love college football. We love naps on rainy Sunday afternoons. We love Oreos.

We hate Nickelback. We hate being on a road trip and having to pee really bad. We hate Osama bin Laden. We hate Notre Dame.

So what should we hate but find it impossible to?

Tim Tebow and the song "Party in the USA."

Over the past semester, (I don't know if I can still use that word since I'm not a student, but whatev.) I have tried so hard to hate the two aforementioned things, but just can't seem to darken my heart enough to.

After a late night dance party my roommate decided to throw on a gameday weekend in Oxford, MS, I thought I could never hear Miley's smash hit again without wanting to vomit. Over a three hour period of trying to fall asleep, I heard my roomie and his dancing pals play that song no less than 15 times, no exaggeration.

So it was ingrained in my head to associate the song with hate and rage. But every time I heard it after the fact it grew and grew on me until I couldn't help but dance to it and sing along with it myself. It's catchy. It's funny. It uses the phrase"L.A.X." What's not to love?

Do people judge me because I like it? NO! Because everyone lik... no, loves that jam. It's destined to be one of the greatest songs of our generation, and one day I hope I can crank it up in the car pool line and have my kids sing along to it with their Pops.

But you can't deny that the song is cheesy, poppy and designed for 13 year old girls. I should hate it, but I can't. I bet you could walk into a Gothic kid's room while nobody else was home and he'd be singing along with it on his iTunes. Of course it would be disguised with a Slipknot song title so when it's number one on his most played list he won't lose any Goth street cred.

Moving in a different direction: Tim Tebow.

He's just too good to be true. He's like Tiger Woods minus the affairs and the berating of photo snappers trying to get a pic of him. Watching him play and lead his teammates is like tasting Jello for the first time. It's like seeing the Mighty Ducks for the first time. It just inspires.

Now I understand if you are an Alabama or Tennessee of Georgia or FSU fan that you, by law, have to hate him, and I understand. But you can't not respect the guy. I mean in the last two years, his only loss was at the hands of my Ole Miss Rebels, and I honestly don't know which got me more jacked up, our win or his post game promise to never lose again.

He's the best player in the history of college football, maybe even college sports, he's a kid of character and faith and his desire to win is only matched by his desire to help the people around him.

So we want to hate him, then we see the 10 minute interview on Sportscenter and we think, "Crap. Dude's a great guy."

I thought for awhile that Bama would prevail this coming up weekend. Nope. Tim Tebow won't lose. It's just not possible. And for that we try and hate him, but in crowded rooms watching the game we all find ourselves cheering silently for him every time he touches the ball and getting silently choked up when he discusses his faith and the mission work he's done.

Bottom line is that Tim Tebow and Miley Cyrus need to have two kids. A boy that can follow in his dad's footsteps and a girl that can pump out the hits like her mom so the next generation can appreciate the dilemma all the world is in trying to hate the two but secretly loving them. So Miley and Tim, if you happen to read this, do your best to make that happen, for the kids of course, both yours and the general population's.

Other things we should hate, but we really love:

1) Professional Wrestling
2) Wednesdays with Warner
3) That Thing You Do (both song and movie)
4) Dan Brown novels
5) Full House


So maybe those are my top five, but I bet at least one is one of yours...

Down and out in Tunica, MS on an early Thanksgiving morn...

As I walked out of the Resorts Hotel and Casino around 3:00 AM last night, I was tired, my head was stopped up and I was $60 in the hole. Two of the guys I went with left for the night with over $200 in profit. And the third lost $60 in a slot machine in less than ten minutes.

All in all, it was a good night for some and a mediocre night for others amongst my friends who had a hankering to get some free money early this morning.

Sure I woke up this morning ticked off that I had pissed away sixty of my hard earned dollars, but it's not the end of the world. I'll bounce back after my very American, Thanksgiving Day steak dinner later today. While my compadres left substantially better off than they came, I will by no means be taking out a loan to cover my losses or putting a second mortgage on my mother's house just to stay afloat. Because gambling is entertainment for me. I can go to the "boats" and play fifty or sixty bucks and win a little or lose a little and have just as much fun as if I went to a bar or a movie or a concert and spent the same amount of money.

However, when you're in a casino in the middle of the night as I was last night, you see the people that don't think of blackjack and the slots and poker as entertainment, but more as a means to an end, a chance to get (back) ahead, an opportunity to better themselves. And it's pretty sad. Elderly women carrying oxygen tanks to their favorite machine while still smoking a cigarette do not give you that tingly, joyful feeling all over. The middle aged gentleman cashing his paycheck and then losing it all on the craps table makes you ache for the wife that might be counting on that check to pay the bills or the kids hoping for Christmas gifts this year.

I'm thankful that I know that casino games are like carnival games. They can be fun if you have the cash to spare and you can get a rush when you win, but unfortunately casinos and carnivals are not in the business of making winners. They're in the business of being a business. Making a profit no matter what the cost is to the customer.

Am I saying that casinos are evil? Not really. Can they be a lot of fun? Sure, I had a pretty good time last night. But can they gave you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach because they give people a false sense of hope that they have a chance to walk away a millionaire? Absolutely. I left with that feeling last night. It could've been the $60 I lost, but I think it was more the sadness I felt for the few dozen people still there trying to change their lives.

As my buds and I prepared to head back to Memphis, I stood in the men's room to relieve myself and Paula Cole's, "I Don't Wanna Wait" came on the radio. You know, the Dawson's theme song?

Well I wasn't really going anywhere with that, I just thought it was kind of funny. I mean if that song is playing while you're at the urinal and you don't giggle a little bit, you might not be human.

Happy Thanksgiving...

Bet you didn't see a Sunday post coming...

With the popularity of Girl Talk around the college music world, it's hard to imagine our lives with out "mash-ups" as they are referred to. Whether on your iPod with just music, on YouTube mixing music videos or on YouTube putting music over movie and TV montages, you can't deny that they are awesome and really make you smile.

It's pretty incredible the stuff people can get to match up. I mean Taylor Swift and Usher's videos fit together like Zack and Kelly. I get chills when Ursh's dance lines right up with T-Swift's jam.

So on a lazy Sunday night, after a weekend where I saw a few, I stumbled upon a few more great ones.

Do yourself a favor and watch them all.

Enjoy...













I'll be back Wednesday with something else. Stay tuned...

Tiger Basketball. It's back. But did it ever really leave?

My mother loves to tell the story about the time I met Elliot Perry. For those of you who don't know exactly who Elliot Perry is, I'll try to make this brief. In the late 80's and early 90's Elliot Perry was a force to be reckoned with on the famed, sometime infamous, Memphis State (University of Memphis) Tigers basketball team.

I loved EP. Or "Socks" as he later came to be known in his NBA career, because of course he wore knee high socks when he played.

My grandmother and I pulled up to where the autograph session was being held, she explicitly told me not to get out of the car until she came around to get me. I was 4 at the time so this was a pretty normal practice for me and Tootie. But that day was different. I was going to get a chance to meet Elliot Perry, the tall lanky, Rec-Spec clad Memphis hero. So naturally I opened the door on my own and proceeded to fall out face first on the asphalt.

As I walked in to meet the coaches and players, my face looked like someone had rubbed a piece of sand paper on it for half an hour or so. The head coach at the time, the legendary Larry Finch, looked at me, my bloodied face and then looked at my grandmother. According to her, the look he gave her said, "You evil old bird. You beat your grand kid?" But I was quite a precocious little one and told the whole story to every person who signed my ball.

However, as I strolled down the line of players, I couldn't find Elliot. Despite my above average intelligence for my age, I didn't figure out until I was later informed that athletic, prescription goggles don't have to be worn off the court.

By asking each of the other players where the star was, I'm sure they felt small, not as important, but they knew that he was the backbone of the team, and they were all willing to give him the spotlight if it helped the team play better and win more games. And Elliot wasn't a very selfish guy, so most of the praise thrown his way was passed off to Coach Finch or the players around him.

When I finally met him, it was like coming face to face with Superman. You couldn't put words on my emotions. He wasn't anything special, just a gracious player signing autographs for a kid with a scraped face. But he was my hero. And my face shined when I got home and showed off his signature to anyone that would look.

That time for Memphis Basketball was what most would call the glory days. After Elliot Perry left, Penny Hardaway came along. And then David Vaughan. And then Lorenzen Wright. And then Cedric Henderson. And it was good. NCAA Tournaments. All Americans. March Madness was when Memphis came together to support the home team.

Then things got bad. Coach Finch lost his touch for coaching and recruiting. We lost a hold of the hometown high schoolers. They went to other schools. So Memphis fans bid farewell to the glory days and waited for a rejuvenation.

And it finally came at the end of the 90's. It came in a young coach, one with NBA experience, Final Four experience and incredible chutzpah. John Calipari was here. And he led us to the Promised Land. It took awhile but he got us there. Like Moses leading the Egyptians to the Canaan, he got us there after a few bumps in the road.

He brought in Derrick Rose, Rodney Carney, Joey Dorsey, Antonio Anderson, Robert Dozier, Darius Washington Jr., Tyreke Evans, Chris Douglas-Roberts and so many others. And the whole city stood behind him, no matter how he carried out his business. If he cursed at his players like they were dogs, if he broke a few rules, if he was a little sleazy and sly, we applauded him for bringing us back to prominence in the national collegiate basketball picture.

But then he left for better things. He left to coach on bigger and brighter stages. And he left us with NCAA sanctions and stripped wins and forfeited tournament appearances. And we all thought we would never be OK again.

If you know anything about college hoops, you know after last night that the Memphis Tigers are going to be just fine. Josh Pastner, our new coach, had huge shoes to fill. Big Italian leather loafers. Loafers with grease from Coach Cal's hair on them.

But in just 40 minutes last night, Coach Paz let the Tiger Nation know that we are in great, albeit young hands. He nearly shocked Goliath in a game versus number one ranked Kansas, a game we were supposed to lose by over 20. And he has already given us the number one recruiting class in the nation for 2010-2011. And several of those recruits are hometown boys. Ones that want to win a title for the city, to bring home a trophy to Memphis.

Cal got great players. But they left early for the NBA. They caused trouble. They were awesome though. And I ate it all up at the time. But I feel like Memphis Tiger Basketball is about to return to the glory days of the 80's and early and mid-90's. The last four years were great with Cal, and the deep tournament runs. But with Coach Pastner at the reigns, I honestly feel like the best is yet to come.

I loved watching us destroy teams over the past several years. But the little kid who couldn't wait to see Elliot Perry that day when he was 4 is back inside me and ready to get that little boy like excitement all over again for Tiger Basketball.

It's hard to have a child like joy when you're cheering for something you know is probably wrong. That's kind of how I felt with Cal. Just a little guilty sometimes. But now the guilt is gone and Tiger Basketball is back.

Go Tigers.

Things are about to get fun...

From Dixie with Love...?

I returned to Memphis today from the Land of Cotton. You know the place where "old times there are not forgotten." If you aren't catching the reference, here you go:

Oh, I wish I was in Dixie Away, Away,
In Dixieland I'll take my stand to live and die in Dixie.
For Dixie land, where I was born,
early lord, one frosty morn,
Look Away, Look Away,
Look Away, Dixie Land.

Oh, I wish I was in Dixie, Away Away,
In Dixieland I'll take my stand to live and die in Dixie.
For Dixieland, where I was born, early lord one frosty morn,
Look Away, Look Away,
Look Away, Dixieland.

Glory, Glory, hallelujah.
Glory, Glory, hallelujah.
Glory, Glory, hallelujah.
His truth is marching on.

So hush little baby, don't you cry
You know your daddy's, bound to die.
But all, All my child's lord, will soon be over.

Glory, Glory, hallelujah.
Oh, Glory, Glory, hallelujah.
His truth is marching on.
His truth is marching on.

The lyrics posted above are what the University of Mississippi refers to as "From Dixie with Love" and what Elvis referred to as "The American Trilogy."

For over 20 years, the Pride of the South Marching Band at Ole Miss has used this combo of Union and Confederate battle hymns as their fight song at sporting events and pep rallies. "So what?" you might say if you aren't keeping up with Ole Miss news whether in Oxford or nationally as of the past couple of weeks.

So the new Chancellor, Dan Jones, has decided to remove it from our band's repertoire for our upcoming football game against the Volunteers of Tennessee and put the song on an indefinite hiatus because of the controversial ending that students have added to it.

You see, at the end of the Battle Hymn of the Republic part, a vast majority of students have decided that instead of chanting "His truth is marching on," that they will instead shout, "the South will rise again."

Most of you reading this, if you didn't know Ole Miss students did this, are probably a bit perturbed by the meaning behind it. The South rising again? What would that entail? What do these students really mean? Could race be involved? Let's delve into the meat of it for a bit.

First, let's look at what many people claim is the meaning behind the phrase. These people claim to love the South. Fair enough. I love the South. A lot. They claim that if it rises again, that the region will once again come to prominence in national affairs. That we will return to being respected by the nation as a whole as opposed to being last in most of the important categories (education, obesity, crime, etc.) people pay attention to when evaluating a city or region.

All of these claims are fine. If that is what people mean by saying, "the South will rise again," at the close of our fight song, and what everyone else interprets it to mean, then by all means, let it continue. But why is a fight song at a football game the proper place to voice such strong opinions about wanting the South to succeed as apparently it once did? Why are these inebriated, boot clad, white Rebel fans yelling this at a game instead of becoming active in or even starting organizations that can make these claims of future Southern prosperity happen? Why can't they start a group that promotes a true desire for the Southland to become the center of the country, the heart of the nation?

It's simple. Because the people that say that the aforementioned stuff is the real reason why they yell TSWRA at the top of their drunken little lungs are full of crap. Sorry to be blunt, but this is beyond a lost cause. I cannot find a single reason why this should be acceptable. When people hear TSWRA, they hear slavery, segregation and hate. Plain and simple. It doesn't matter how you might mean it, people won't hear it your way. When our games are broadcast on national television, do you think the sportscasters who hear it think, "Oh. Ole Miss is so progressive. They want to move their region ahead in the world."? Hell no they don't. They hear what appears to be a bigoted student body yelling a phrase that completely discredits the efforts of some to attempt to build bridges and tear down barriers over the past two centuries.

What if I were talking to a friend, a good friend, and we had lots of inside jokes. Say that right when you walked up to the conversation, I got this crazed look in my eye and yelled in his face as loud as possible, "I hope your mother gets cancer." You might think I'm a psycho. Sure I might not mean what I said, but it sure comes across that way to you.

So say you don't mean TSWRA to sound racist and full of hate all you want. Nobody will believe you. I don't believe you. If you tell me that you don't mean it that way, I'll think you a liar. You're lying to yourself if you yell that phrase and don't think it's hurtful.

Dan Jones took away our fight song after a few trial weeks. During those trial weeks he told the student body that if they didn't stop yelling TSWRA, he would take away the long standing tradition. The student body didn't stop. So who do they have to blame for losing a real Ole Miss tradition over a silly, would-be tradition? Themselves. I mean, "great idea students!" Play chicken with the Chancellor, the most powerful man on campus and see who wins. Good call.

The word tradition has been thrown around a lot over this issue the past couple of wee..., mont..., years, and it's not even a tradition. I read a letter to the editor in The Daily Mississippian a few weeks back. In it, the author said that he remembers coming to games as a child and hearing the phrase chanted then. He is a senior. Twenty-two years old. By most accounts I have read or heard, the phrase didn't start being yelled until 2004, when that senior was 17, far from a child. I'm pretty sure five years doesn't qualify something as tradition. Pretty sure a 66 Mustang is going to sell for more than a 2004 Ford Focus. Why? Because it's an antique, an American tradition.

I'll close with two anecdotes to further prove my point.

First, this past weekend I went to the Ole Miss/Northern Arizona game. Before the game, the band played "Slow Dixie" as some call it, just like usual. A very drunk young man behind me made no bones about disregarding the Chancellor's request and screaming TSWRA. But five minutes later when the "Star Spangled Banner" began, he sat down to talk on his cell phone. Being a little upset by this, I turned to him and politely told him to stand and show some respect for his country. He told me he was too drunk. Great way to start moving the South ahead fella. I'm sure people fighting for our country would really think the South is a wonderful place if they witnessed our little run in.

And secondly, I can remember vividly the tour I was given by Ole Miss as a high school senior. It was a dreary day, but I was just glad to finally see Oxford and the campus. My tour guide spoke of traditions of the university and the town. The Walk of Champions, William Faulkner, Double Decker, the Honors College, great baseball and football, the Greek system, and more all were discussed. Never once, did she say, "Oh. And at football games, a good number of students scream 'the South will rise again,' at the close of our fight song." The reason she didn't tell me that is because it's embarrassing for the university. If she, or any other tour guide were to tell people about that, our enrollment would drop exponentially. And for good reason.

"The South will rise again," is not tradition. It's not positive. It's a hateful statement whether you think it is or not. It's a black mark on what I think is the best public university in the country. I hope it goes away.

As for Dixie, maybe it will come back, but with a student body that truly are a bunch of rebels, it doesn't look too promising.

A little flakey. Kind of like dandruff or psoriasis.

I know that you all appreciate waking up every Wednesday to enjoy your cup of coffee, head to work and then rush home to see what random topic I've chosen to discuss for the week.

But I'm going to be honest with you. It's probably not going to continue to be a steady Wednesday gig anymore. As many of you faithful out there have likely noticed, some of the previous weeks' postings have been: a week off, a recycled former article and a Thursday post. I know, I know. I'm letting you down, but with that real grown-up job I spoke of last week, finding an extra hour to write is going to be more difficult to dedicate to one day each and every week.

So in the future, it might be Thursdays or Fridays with Warner. Maybe even Sunday. I hope you are all OK with the change of pace. Maybe this means that you'll visit more often just to see if I've updated instead of the mass jump in hits from Wednesdays to Fridays. Maybe you should just pick a day to visit every week and that way you have a good chance of catching up on what I've got to offer. You know, a write it in your planner type thing. Like, "Monday: pick up dry cleaning.", "Tuesday: study for chem exam.", "Wednesday: spend time with my favorite B-list blogger." It's just a thought. Totally your call. But my self esteem is in fact boosted when my counter jumps by more than twenty a day.

So on to this week's topic.

The perks of living at home post-college graduation...

It's cheap. Your laundry gets done. Lunches are made and in the fridge when you leave for work. The parentals are more prone to buy you things. The bathroom doesn't stay filthy. Guilt for living on the fam while not actually living under their roof disappears when you move back in. The list goes on. And on. And on.

The cons...

You live at home and have graduated college. Enough said.

I'll probably stick around the house for the next year or so. Save some dough. And then move on from there. We'll see what happens.

That's all I've got this week. Let's just say my defensive driving class took it all out of me last night, and that's why I can't offer anything spicier or more hard hitting.

Check by next week. Sometime next week, and I promise I'll deliver a better product for you.

Growing older but not up.

My birthday was yesterday. 23. A new year right in front of me.

I got a job this week. A real grown up job. Suit. Tie. The whole nine. Perhaps a new (first) career is right in front of me too.

So a new year, a new job, a whole new life almost.

The only thing I've known over the past 23 years has been school and occasional part time work. However, Monday that all changes and the 9-5 daily grind starts for what most likely will be the rest of my life. And I'll be honest with you; I'm a bit scared. Everyone tells me that if I weren't a little scared, they'd be worried, but it'd be a great deal easier if I knew how the map of my life would read from here on. Am I supposed to be a banker for the rest of my life? When am I going to have time to write that bestselling novel I've been thinking up recently? Am I going to be that man that works for the same company my whole life? The guy that gets the really nice watch when he retires with the company logo engraved on the back?

I really liked school. Kind of one of those loves that you're supposed to let go and if it comes back yada yada yada type thing. It sucked while I was in class and bored or tired. And homework wasn't too much fun either. But now I really miss it and want it back. Walking across campus the other day made me a little teary eyed. A tad pathetic if you ask me, but whatever; I'm a sappy guy sometimes.

But despite all the sentimental junk, I know that I have to grow up. I can't stay a strapping college hunk all of my life. I have to don the suit and tie. I have to build the 401k. I have to have the wife and 2.3 kids and the nice house in the burbs eventually. It's what I want. But it sure snuck up on me faster than I had anticipated. I don't feel like I should be opening this door quite yet, especially since I have no idea what the hell is behind it. Sure the benefits of working at a bank are nice. But it's still the unknown. And it's scary.

Ultimately I know that everything is going to work out well. Probably better than I can imagine right now. I'm a pretty optimistic cynic. I know that I can change careers if I don't love the banking road. I'm still young. I have my whole life ahead of me. Etc.

It still is weird though. I can't deny my nerves heading into these uncharted waters. Which is a weird analogy because plenty of people have said that it's going to be good for me to get my feet wet. So I guess I'll run with this. Why get my feet wet when I can dive in. I mean I was a swimmer in high school. (Yes. I wore a Speedo.)

So new times are coming at me fast. Bring them on. I can handle it. The nerves will wear off sooner than later. The wife and kids and stuff will come in time. Twenty years from now things will be great. Twenty-three will be a scary time, but scary stuff is exciting. Rosanne Cash, Johnny's daughter, wrote, "The key to change is to let go of fear." I can do that. I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter now, but I can do it.

I hope I don't turn into the super business man that neglects the more pleasurable things in life. If I let go of the fun parts of my life, then what's left to live for? The almighty dollar? I'm pretty sure as these new life changes come at me I can still maintain the youthful joy that I've learned over the past few years. But I haven't even started yet, so ask me again in a year or so if I'm still having fun with life in addition to making money and settling down. If I'm not, then buy me a beer and tell me to readjust some things so I can.

I'm ready to move ahead in life, but I don't think I'll ever be ready to stop finding joy in my life outside the work world. I guess I'll find out soon.

Jimmy Buffett once said, "I'm growing older but not up. My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck. Let those winds of change blow over my head. I'd rather die while I'm living than live while I'm dead."

I'm getting older and growing up, but that doesn't mean the fun is gone. I can't wait to see how this unfolds. Thanks for coming along for the ride every week.

This too shall pass...

The recent events surrounding my grandmother's overwhelming health problems have led me to an article I wrote for The Daily Mississippian just over a year ago when my grandmother on my father's side passed away. The emotions I am feeling now are all too familiar and very similar to those from last September. Tootie, as we call my Mom's mom hasn't passed on yet, but the same feelings are swelling within me again.

No pictures this week. Nothing funny. Just a grandson watching his family hurt and the notes he has made on the situation at hand.

Here's the article just as it appeared originally:

As I headed home early Saturday morning for my grandmother's funeral, I found myself wrestling with what my real emotions on the whole situation were. Was I sad, mad, confused? She was old. Really old. And her health over the past 2 or 3 years was unbelievably bad. It was like somebody just hit a dimmer switch one day, and slowly Rosie began to fade. And it, as you can imagine, was really sad for me and my family.

It was really sad because Rosie was a great woman: a school teacher who drove a motorcycle, a literal "Rosie the Riveter" in WWII and above all a woman with great insight and wisdom. Words really can't do her justice, so I'll stop her story here.

Bottom line is that old people are great. They can give you guidance that stems from real life experience, counsel that is irreplaceable. But the unfortunate thing is that like Rosie, there often comes a time when your elderly family, friends and loved ones start to decline. They stop being that beacon of wisdom that you once looked up to and start becoming more of the family annoyance. They can't do things for themselves. They have to have someone drive them places. They become forgetful, sometimes extremely so. They don't make sense. They stop caring for themselves. Occasionally they become hateful and mean.

So what do you do as a caring family member? Do you move your grandparent or parent in with you? Do you move them to a nursing home? Do you sit and hope they die? Do you ignore the situation and hope it goes away?

Sometimes old people continue kicking it until they are upwards of 80 and 90 years old. They are spry and fun and sharp as a tack. And sometimes they go too soon, before anyone is anywhere near ready to say goodbye. But it seems the growing trend is for these folks to go through that unknown time period where they stop being the person you once loved and cared about so much and become more of a shell with a stranger living inside.

And when they finally do go, it becomes more of a relief than anything. Rosie wasn't really Rosie these past years. The funeral brought the final sense of closure we all were waiting for, but her true "passing on" was a few years back. And unfortunately, I feel like this period before the real death and after the person you once knew has gone can sometimes tarnish your loved one's legacy. Sure you remember the great times, but it's hard to forget the times that person forgot who you were or yelled at you for no reason or told you that you didn't know what was best for them. But I guess you just have to try to remind yourself it wasn't really them talking or just struggle to put it past you. It's hard, but it's necessary.

Hearing my family complain about what to do and how to handle these times is frustrating, but it's not unreasonable. We want our family to live forever as the people we really knew them as, and it is so hard when we realize they can't. So we deal with it in different ways, and sadly, with the complications of nursing homes and assisted living and hospice and similar facilities, we usually just get angry. It's an easy emotion. We can lash out. We don't have to show people we are hurting. We don't have to cry. But eventually the anger stops and you realize you are losing someone special and the gut-wrenching sadness kicks in, and you mourn. And you mourn for awhile. And it's sad. And not much can be said to make it better. And then one day, a fond memory is triggered whether by a song or nature or a book, and everything becomes a little better. You still miss that person, but you can smile and cherish the memories. And it is good.

Don't let the decline of your loved ones consume you with frustration as it often can. It's not an easy thing to do, but honor them by trying. The times will be hard, but remember that this too shall pass.

Smoking: From class to trash?

"It was in a little store a block from our hotel that I bought my first pack of cigarettes. The ones I'd smoked earlier had been Ronnie's -- Pall Malls, I think -- and though they tasted no better or worse than I thought they would, I felt that in the name of individuality I should find my own brand, something separate. Something me. Carltons, Kents, Alpines: it was like choosing a religion, for weren't Vantage people fundamentally different from those who'd taken to Larks of Newports? What I didn't realize was that you could convert, that you were allowed to. The Kent person could, with very little effort, become a Vantage person, though it was harder to go from menthol to regular, or from regular-sized to ultra long. All rules had their exceptions, but the way I came to see things, they generally went like this: Kools and Newports were for black people and lower-class whites. Camels were for procrastinators, those who wrote bad poetry, and those who put off writing bad poetry. Merits were for sex addicts, Salems were for alcoholics, and Mores were for people who considered themselves to be outrageous but really weren't. One should never loan money to a Marlboro menthol smoker, though you could usually count on a regular Marlboro person to pay you back. The eventual subclasses of milds, lights, and ultralights would not only throw a wrench into the works, but make it nearly impossible for anyone to keep your brand straight, but that all came later, along with warning labels and American Spirits"

-David Sedaris, "The Smoking Section" from When You Are Engulfed in Flames

I was watching CBS Sunday Morning a few weeks back and the featured piece was one on a famous author. Honestly, I can't remember who it was, but I do remember the anchor asking his wife what it was that first drew her to her long time husband when they were students at Princeton or Yale or some other Ivy. She responded by saying that she was walking across campus and saw him leaned against a column of a building smoking a cigarette. She was immediately attracted because he looked suave, sophisticated, mature. And from that point, it was love.

Of course this budding romance began in the 1950's, when smoking was still an acceptable thing to do. Nowadays if you were to ask a girl if she is attracted to a fellow on a college campus cheefing a cig, you would very likely be met with a no. In fact if you were to ask guys or girls what their major turn offs are, I would wager to say over 75% would not hesitate to say smoking as their first.

So when did smoking become such a nasty, vile thing to do? When did it go from a normal, everyday thing to something frowned upon by the masses? Was it the health issues, the fact that it will probably kill you one day? Was it when secondhand smoke became a bigger issue than smoking itself? Did everyone just decide one day in the 80's or 90's that it was to become the quintessential sign of a classless person? I don't know, but I am curious.

If you watch Mad Men, you see that the three things that permeate every episode are sex, alcohol, and tobacco. But the former two are rarely considered as nasty in today's society as the latter.

Sex in the 1950's was as taboo as you could get. Hell, Lucy and Ricky slept in separate beds. But Ricky loved a good cigarette. So did Lucy. But now in cinema and television, the guy that gets the most girls is king while the people that smoke are almost automatically associated with being the "bad guy." I just finished a novel (Yes. Dan Brown's new one. It's entertaining. Cut me some slack.) where one of the antagonists was always mentioned to be smoking cigarettes, running her tongue over her filmy, yellow teeth. Weird how times change.

So obviously modern culture says that sex is OK. Do it a lot. With a lot of people. This is the message that MTV and other networks send to kids with their sexually driven shows and frequent condom commercials and the like. But on these same networks we see the commercials for Truth, the company seeking to obliterate the tobacco industry. Those commercials are disturbing. It makes you not want to smoke. And while I understand that condoms reduce unwanted pregnancies and STDs, do you think that when nearly every show on prime time has some sortof sexual content, that people who watch it immediately think, "safe sex?" No. They think sex.

So is sex the new, more appropriate substitute for cigarettes? Probably not. Is it more OK by today's standards than smoking? Yes. Was it the opposite in 1954? Yes. Is this weird to you? Probably.

So when the people that thrive on the sexual dominance of our culture, the promiscuous ones, the ones that aren't safe about their escapades go to the doctor for their STD check, they can likely mark non-smoker on their info sheet. Whew. No lung cancer for that 25 year old. But gonorrhea doesn't seem much better... Hmm.

Now what about alcohol?


Mad Men features a lot of scotch whiskey. Delightful. The mark of a truly sophisticated man is a glass of Johnnie Walker. On the rocks or straight? Doesn't matter. And what better accessory to that glass of scotch than a fine tobacco cigarette.

But again, in our modern society, it doesn't work the way it does in Mad Men. Alcohol is the forefront of the advertising world, not tobacco. Beer, wine, liquor, whatever. It dominates television, magazines, newspapers, etc. It drives people from high school to late adulthood. Adults crave the drink after work. College kids crave the beer every day. High school kids go out of their way to find someone to buy them booze. And this is fine and dandy with most people outside the uber-traditionalist evangelicals. But alcoholism numbers are increasing. DUI and drunk driving accident incidents are high across the country. Despite the negatives, alcohol is still something our culture drives into the heads of every person within ear shot or eye shot of any form of media. And most people don't think twice about it.

But is the Winston Cup an alright name for Nascar? No. It advertises cigarettes. Can you have a Marlboro add in the paper anymore? No. It's inappropriate. It encourages something unhealthful. Something that can kill you. Alcohol could never do such things. It's the magic elixir that society loves. Sex could never harm anyone either. It's an emotional and physical connection that rarely produces adverse effects. Cigarettes are the only thing today that can harm people. Cigarettes and driving or riding without a seat belt.

So should we eliminate advertisements for alcohol or condoms? Should we nix shows with sexual content? I don't think yes is the answer to either. Sure those things can harm people. Just like cigarettes do. But some people know how to use alcohol and sex responsibly. Unfortunately some others haven't the slightest idea.

Do you get where I'm going with this?

When a person, we'll call him non-smoker, learns that another person, smoker, is a user of cigarettes, there is a stigma that is immediately ingrained in non-smoker's mind. It's that smoker is low class, trashy, someone that wants to have his nicotine fix to make things a little easier. So how is that different than the business man who has his Dewar's everyday upon returning home from work to ease his mind? How is it different than the guy that prowls the bar looking for a one night stand to fill his emotional tank for the week?

Don't get me wrong. Cigarettes are bad. They will mess your body and life up. But won't alcohol and sex do the same thing if used improperly or too much?

To put it in perspective, my perspective, I am 100% confident that if you gave a girl two attractive men to choose from as a potential boyfriend or even husband, one that had slept with over 100 other women and one that was a smoker but had only one previous serious relationship, she would likely pick the man-whore because smoking is "so gross" in her opinion. Who knows what guy A has going on down south, but at least he doesn't have yellow teeth or smell like a cig.

Will things change? I doubt it. Smoking will be obsolete within the next 25 years or so. Mark my words. It's just something that society used see nothing wrong with that has become the ultimate sign of repulsiveness.


Note: This observation only applies to the USA. Europe is a whole different cup of tea. And don't get me started on the fact that people probably think smoking or its advertisements are worse than the violence in the media these days.

Live music in a college town: A young boy's quest to be hip

Sometimes I really want to be hip. Like indie, skinny jeans, greasy hair hip. But then I look in the mirror and the relatively normal guy that looks back at me silently screams, "You can't be. You're not cool enough." So I don my polo shirt and my not skinny jeans and go on about my daily life.

But every now and then, I try to push myself into hipper territories. Certain films and stores often catch my eye as a chance to be a little bit more like the cool "I don't give a crap" kids. Heck, even my wardrobe takes momentary lapses into the hipster world. Occasionally a pearl snap shirt. Never skinny jeans though. I tried them on once. Seriously though. Not a good look for me.

While I want to be cool like this, it's hard to just do it without people noticing that you're trying a bit too hard. So normally I just sit at home and drink my Pabst and listen to my obscure bands by myself and pretend that I'm cool. But often my roommates or my girlfriend or my friends feel it necessary to kill my cool buzz and remind me that I'm not.

So when opportunities arise, as they did last night, for me to dip my feet in the indie waters, I usually jump.

Last evening I ventured to the Square of my quaint little college town to check out a band that's getting a good deal of press amongst some pretty influential hipsters these days. Blogs, satellite radio, magazines, the whole nine yards really. I had sampled a few of their tunes on the world wide interweb and just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And I wanted to be cooler.

Wavves is a duo. A guitarist/vocalist and a drummer/psycho. The front man is under 5 feet 5 inches tall. Supposedly he has Napoleon syndrome. He's short and likes a fight. Word on the street is that he whacked the lead singer of The Black Keys with a beer bottle not more than a week ago. But a rumor can't be proved, despite what Wikipedia might tell you.

I arrived at the bar 45 minutes before the opening band goes on. A good friend accompanied me, one who is more hip and cool than I, and one who is in with the other hip and cool people of Oxford. By going with him, I could get some real insight into this scene I feel so attracted to.

We milled around. Mingled if you would. And finally posted ourselves up at a table within view of the stage. As the band began, we decided that a standing view will probably make for a better evening, and thus made our way towards the startlingly slim crowd of 60 or so. Within minutes, we got separated and being in no hurry to reunite, I decided to take in the concert by myself.

Unfortunately, I got a little distracted by the people around me. So many people to watch. Such a good chance I will look creepy. What's a wannabe to do? Well I stared at people anyway. And I laughed out loud. By myself. In a bar full of people. Yes. I laughed.

There were no more than four or five dozen people in the small venue, but so many categories of people were present. You had the "really into music" types that smiled their big goofy grins and danced like crazy men to the music being played, the words of course being inaudible. Then you had the uber-hipsters that were too cool to show emotion, but were probably just as pleased as the aforementioned music buffs. Also present were the local celebrities, the townie musicians or producers on the cusp of making it big, arms folded, critiquing every move those on stage were making. And then you had the girls. The ones that are in love with rockers or writers and just want to be near them in some capacity. Alt-groupies if you would.

(Three fellows that had obviously come in the bar trying to find a party made a brief appearance but unfortunately found no welcoming arms for their giant Abercrombie logos and gelled hair.)

And then there was me. Three Coors heavies in. Not very indie. Not very hip. Yet happy. And entertained. Not necessarily by the bands, but mostly by the people around me. The ones I think are so mysterious and cool.

I'll never be that cool. But that's OK.

For insight on how to be hip or at least listen to cool, obscure music, check out Hipster Runoff, a blog that will tell you everything you need to know.

Everyone needs a week off...

This is mine. Come back next week for what I'm sure you're going to miss this week.

Thanks for understanding.


XOXO

The Joy of Single-Sex Education

A few Fridays back, I stood sweating in the midst of a tiny, 90 degree kitchen. With hordes of people munching on hummus, sharing margaritas and waiting on their gyros, I used one hand to grill the various things we offer on the menu and with the other hand clutched my cellular telephone in my pocket waiting ever so excitedly for it to vibrate. Every time it buzzed my heart went to my throat. I wasn't, as you might expect, waiting for a girl to text me back or waiting for a call about an ailing relative. Instead I was eagerly anticipating score updates from my high school's football game that evening.

You see, my little all boy's private school was playing perennial national football powerhouse, South Panola on this particular Friday night, and despite being almost five years removed from high school, I still clung to the phone with all my hopes for the night resting with Memphis University School and a bunch of kids I didn't know trying their darnedest to bring home a victory. In the end, MUS did in fact win, defeating South Panola at home for the first time since 2001. Go Buzzards.

But my weekly rant really has little to do with football today and more to do with why it was so important to me, a now college grad to support my Alma mater.

I have a lot of friends. I mean a lot. OK. Maybe not a ton, but a good many. And very few of them still have any desire to keep up with their high schools' goings on. It's just not a big deal to them. It was a phase of their lives that is over, so they move on, and don't worry about it. But all of the guys I graduated with still have a very deep-seated connection to MUS. They want to know how the football team is doing, what teachers have left, what the senior prank was, etc. MUS was a place that they loved and that they continue to cherish even into their twenties, thirties and in most cases until they die (no exaggeration).

But why?


Why do MUS grads continue to love and support their old high school and why do most other people just graduate and leave it at that? Because MUS, along with most other all male schools, offers more than just an education. It offers a brotherhood, a camaraderie that is hard to find elsewhere.

Outside of the Carolina's, Virginia, Massachusetts and Tennessee, all boys schools are pretty rare. Even people from Mississippi thought it was crazy I only went to school with guys when I got to college. They threw out the typical, "Oh, I bet you're gay," or "Didn't it suck never seeing girls?" when they heard that a same sex environment is where I spent my teenage years. And despite long conversations trying to explain why I, and all the other students, loved it so much, they just couldn't come to an understanding of it. "Dude I would never go to a guys school," is pretty much all I ever got as a response. And surprisingly enough, girls thought it was even crazier than guys did when I would tell them about it. Go figure.


But really, I loved every second of high school. Not because I was the big jock, or Mr. Popular or even the smartest, most well read student there, but because every day I got up to go to school and knew I would get to have fun at school with the guys. We would laugh and cut up and joke with each other and the mostly male teachers and even work really hard to do well as far as our studies went. We had actual relationships with teachers. We had actual relationships with one another. (NO. Not gay ones.) We didn't have to worry about dealing with girls or impressing anyone or seeing our ex the day after we broke up with them. It was just a relaxed atmosphere to learn in and in my humble opinion it was the best atmosphere in which to learn.

I'm not trying to sell MUS with this piece. MUS sells it self quite frankly. I just wish that people could understand why my high school is still so important to me and its other graduates after all the years that have passed since we graduated.

The looks I got that night in the kitchen when I was jumping up and down celebrating a touchdown I didn't even witness made me feel like I was crazy. But I know I'm not. And if my coworkers, or anyone else who didn't get to, had experienced MUS or another all boys school firsthand, they'd know I'm not crazy too. It's just something you have to be a part of to understand I guess. I'm really thankful I was a part of it. I'll always keep up with MUS and will always be an Owl no matter where my life might lead me.

I'll end with this. I sang in Beg to Differ, the a cappella group (think Rockappella) at MUS. You could say we were pretty good. But after graduation, we all packed up and went to sing for a few weeks in France. After several shows around the country, we concluded with a performance in Notre Dame. This is what John Hiltonsmith, our director had to say about it.

"In that particular performance, we had 20-plus teenage boys who had, for the first time as an ensemble, connected emotionally and spiritually with the music. Many of the singers were reduced to tears. It was the single most memorable event of my entire musical career."

And this is what, Charles Askew, fellow member and friend of mine had to say about it.

"Looking up at the Rose window, we must have all felt something like the presence of God. I'll be forever thankful to Mr. Hiltonsmith for that day."

Moments like that one don't come along everyday. In one performance, over 20 lives were changed, both adults and young men, and without a place like MUS that encourages such experiences it never would have happened.

MUS and other schools like it are in the business of educating young men, but more than anything else, they are in the business of producing young men with character and values, ones that stand out in the world. MUS's, marketing slogan is "MUS: The School Where Boys Letter in Life." It might be cheesy, but it's right.


Go Owls...

Kanye and T-Swift: What's with all the fuss?

If you haven't turned on a TV, surfed the web or listened to a radio since Sunday then you've missed some groundbreaking pop culture news. (And no, I'm not talking about the death of Patrick Swayze.) Rap icon Kanye West in his infinite tactfulness interrupted Taylor Swift's MTV Video Music Award acceptance speech for her win of Best Female Video because in Kanye's opinion, Beyonce made one of the best videos ever for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)." And we later found out that even though "Single Ladies" didn't win Best Female Video, it did win Best Video of the Year, which of course makes SO much sense. But hey, when does MTV make much sense?

But here's the deal:

None of it matters.

It would have been one thing if Kanye had toted a Glock on stage and fired it a few times in the air to prove his point. Or if the ghost of Michael Jackson had floated from the clouds to protest Swift's win. Or even if Chris Brown had replaced Kanye in the scenario and punched T-Swift before taking the mic. But none of that happened. Instead an egomaniac that does publicity stunts like this once every month or so just waltzed onto the stage and made his opinion heard. Big deal.

Now I understand that it probably crushed Taylor's spirit, but let's look at the sitch from a cynic's perspective for a brief moment. There are really three reasons that this whole ordeal is not worth any one's, let alone my precious time.

1) Taylor Swift should have prayed she didn't even win the Best Female Video VMA. The list of past winners is like a walk down crappy memory lane save for three or so of the victors.

Cyndi Lauper, Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, Tina Turner, Whitney Houston, Annie Lennox, KD Lang and Suzanne Vega?

Let's see, two 80's mall pop princesses, one who has a bad drinking problem and can barely speak intelligibly on American Idol, Michael Jackson's less crazy sister, Britney Spears (enough said), two battered and bruised African American divas, a bald chick who hates the Pope, a former Lilith Fair staple that looks like a man and some girl I've never heard of. Is this the company Taylor really wants to keep so early in her promising career? I think not.

While Aaliyah is a credible winner, her tragic fate is not one Taylor wants to meet. And Eve and Pink are fine if you like girls with bad taste in hair and fashion with a few top 10 hits. So that leaves Alanis, Beyonce and Kelly Clarkson. Not bad paths to follow, but the latter two's careers are still young. Give it ten years and they might be the next Tina Turner and Cyndi Lauper.

Point is, there might be a curse on this award. Beware to future winners. As for you Taylor, don't marry an abusive guy, blow a lot of powder or marry and have a baby with your white trash back up dancer and you should be fine as long as you still keep making mediocre country music.

2) MTV no longer carries any credibility as far as music is concerned. When Music Television started in 1984, it played MUSIC videos. All the time. It was where people went to find new music. You saw a video you liked and you went out and bought the album. That was how the music world worked until roughly 1997 when MTV fell prey to reality TV. Now if you want to catch some good music videos, you have to wake up at the crack of dawn and can only enjoy them until about 8 AM, but for the other twenty-one hours all MTV broadcasts is, well, for lack of better terms... garbage. If you haven't watched it much lately, give it an hour of your time and then feel free to ache for the youth that are raised on this junk.

If MTV wanted to have a respected awards show nowadays, the execs should probably consider something along the lines of the Razzies. That would make more sense with what MTV brings to the entertainment table these days.

If this all went down at the Grammy's then yes, Kanye was way in the wrong because the Grammy's are backed by a long suited tradition of excellence in the music world. But it happened on MTV, a network that once upon a time was built around being cutting edge. Now something crazy like this happens and the entire world freaks the heck out. Remember in 1993 when Snoop Dogg was arrested literally right after the VMA's for being a suspect in a drive by shooting? That's cutting edge. Or in '92 when Nirvana and Guns n Roses almost came to blows after verbally sparring most of the night? That's cutting edge. Or in 2000 when Rage Against the Machine member Tim Commerford climbed the set, flipped out and threatened to jump. Also cutting edge.

But no more cutting edge. No more music. No more excitement for anyone but junior high kids and people that wish they were still junior high kids. Sorry MTV, but today you are the dregs of the television world.

And last:

3) Nobody should feel sorry for Taylor Swift. This only adds to her sweet, innocent girl persona.


"Aww. Poor girl got interrupted. She's such a martyr."

Wrong. She's a 19 year old girl with more money than she knows what to do with, a horde of teenage fans with more spending power than I'll probably ever know, an additional horde of creepy old guy fans that send her inappropriate Polaroids by the thousands and a career that has taken country music by storm. Move over Leann Rimes and Shania, here comes the new country diva and her name is Taylor. She's the biggest thing in the world right now, and even I succumb to her catchy tunes. Really, I mean who can resist her smile and her sweet melodies? So why should I feel sorry that she got upstaged by a jealous Kanye West? Why should anyone? She's got perhaps the brightest future of anyone in this country right now and we should cry for her? No. Instead we should kick our feet back and laugh at the whole soap opera that happened Sunday night. Because it's funny. I think Kanye is a genius. Because while her record sales went up the next day, I can almost guarantee his did too.

So T-Swift and Kanye? What a silly little story. What a big waste of time media outlets have spent reporting it. It's just not worth headline news. Maybe an occasional blog or spot on TMZ or in US Weekly, but not CNN, Fox or NBC. There are more important things to worry about. This fluff is just that, fluff.

Oh. And apparently even the leader of the free world has an opinion. To quote Mr. Obama on Kanye, "He's a jackass."