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.