http://www.brainbucketmag.com/ Brain Bucket Magazine - Daily Motorcycle News and Event Coverage en-us Thu, 08 Oct 2009 20:06:18 GMT 1440 CPG-Nuke Dragonfly Brain Bucket Magazine News http://backend.userland.com/rss http://www.brainbucketmag.com/images/logo.gif http://www.brainbucketmag.com/ http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=455.htmlI made an error of epic proportions last week in my blog about Brian’s bribe. Well, maybe epic is an overstatement.  I made an error still and must post this retraction.   I said last week that Brian’s previous attempts at hooking me up with a lady were less than stellar.  I talked about one cool chick that I was really into who would later turn off the faucet for no reason and actually went a little loopy while doing it and another gal that pretty much threw herself at me but wasn’t somewhere I really ended up wanting to go.  Those two stories about those girls are indeed accurate.  However, Brian’s role in them wasn’t quite what I made it out to be.   The gal that threw herself at me asked Brian for an intro and notification of interest.  I knew that there was a potential for interest on my part and that there was one for non-interest as well.  I went out with her and had a decent enough time.  When I got a call from Brian that he had wrapped up a show and wanted to take her to another bar/pub to meet up with him, she insisted I go without.  Then she undid all cool points she scored by whining about me choosing him over her.    First off, she insisted I go without her.  So, she asked for it.  Secondly (and I say this at the risk of sounding gay) no chick will ever be able to compete with Brian.  I did that before and when she left me, Brian was right there to help me pick up the pieces.  We’ve been through thick and thin together and have a bond that I sometimes consider stronger than the ones I share with my brothers.  I’ll happily include a romantic interest in my time with Brian, as I did this past weekend. But know better than to place one on a higher level than my brother from another mother.   The faucet gal threw me for a loop.  I met her at a show Brian was doing.  She is the daughter of one of his colleagues.  She struck me as really cool and my type of gal when we first met.  We went to a ballgame the next day with Brian and his housemate and had a blast.  I got all indication from her that she was really into me.  Later that night we actually took the police bike out for a scoot around Cincy and the indicators kept getting stronger and stronger.   I finally took her back home and made no attempt to close the deal.  I dug hanging out with this girl and didn’t want to her to think I was after another notch in her belt.  I offered up a kiss on the cheek and went on my way.   We exchanged texts and spoke on the phone for the next couple of weeks.  I wanted to hang with her again and invited her to ride with me before going to one of Brian’s shows.  She was down.   Then I got a text from her that she may have something to do and wasn’t sure if she could make it. I asked her to tell me by a certain time so I could make other plans if she wasn’t going to go.  She informed me at the predetermined deadline that she wasn’t going to be able to make it, but didn’t make it seem like she was busy with something else.   After a short conversation, I ascertained that she got the impression I wanted to tie myself down to one gal and she was my target. I don’t know what I did to give her that impression, but that wasn’t the case at all.  I musta done something to make her feel that what, because she felt so strongly about it that she kinda went a little loopy and brought a third party into the deal.   She was cool and I still wanted to hang with her from time to time, even if it was as just drinking buddies, so I let it go.  Pushing the issue any further would’ve made the whole deal weird and just plain not fun.  I don’t like weird and not fun, so I didn’t contact her for weeks, nay months.   Enough about those two girls, this is really about Brian and what makes a good wingman.   I failed to mention two incidents where Brian steered a gal my way that ended up in a positive.  One mutual friend took his advice and hung out with me.  We developed a trist lasting for a couple of months that was a source of great pleasure for me.  Another mutual friend that hung out with Brian and I has become somewhat of a student of my life philosophy.  I draw great pleasure from this knowing that someone looks to me the way this friend does.   So far, he’s batting .500!  In these successful attempts he just planted the seed and I took it from there.  Then there’s the times that he outright sold the target on me and I just reaped the rewards of his hard work.   One story I’ll share is about an event that transpired when I went to Indianapolis to see Brian play with G Miles & The Hitmen at the Slippery Noodle.   It didn’t take long for me to get into the zone and I began working the crowd making new friends and having a good old time.   There were several encounters with hotness, but the one that I wanted to pursue was with a group of five, four girls and one guy.  There was this smoking hot blonde that was throwing all kinds of indicators my way.  At first it started out with body language and then downright openly flirting with me.   The band took a break between sets and Brian wanted to introduce me to some new friends he had made.  Here’s where he started being a wingman.  A wingman doesn’t jump on the grenade; he builds social proof for his wing.   And that’s exactly what happened next.  When someone in the band comes down and seeks me out, my social value goes through the roof, especially at a crowded place and with a rockin’ band!  Then he drug me away to meet a group of girls, further increasing my social value to the blonde.  Not only am I cool guy to her but to the band and people that want to meet the band.   Brian and I chatted up these two new girls for a few minutes.  He said that they were going to go hang with us back at the band house after the show. The pair included a moderately cute autumn haired teacher with a rack that would stop traffic and a rather big girl that could probably have stopped cars with her bare hands.   I got the feeling I was being fat-friended.  I built up Brian a little bit and left after a few minutes to go back to my new blonde friend.  I love Brian and all, but I have the chance to score this smokin’ blonde or entertain the teacher’s fat friend… Well, you know what I’d do.   So, now I’m back at the table with the blonde and her friends and she really starts pouring it on.  She’s buying me drinks and doing her best to situate herself near me.  It was like a little dance.   And then, Brian put himself in a wingman class that few will ever be able to top.  The band stopped playing and he took the mic to point out a very special guest in the house, me.  It was a move that would later come back to haunt him.   “Everybody, there’s a very special friend of mine here all the way from Chillicothe, Ohio to hear me play tonight.  Please treat him well.  His name is Mike Newbern.  Where are you at Mike? Everybody give Mike a round of applause!”   It wasn’t very long after that surprise before the blonde was asking me to another bar.   “We’re going to so-and-so bar.  Come with us!  It will be fun!” she practically begged.   “Oh honey, I’m not sure if I should.  I’m here to hang out with my boy,” I replied.   “You’re going to a bar with four girls!  I’m sure he’ll understand,” she delicately whispered in my ear as she touched my leg.   “Yes, he would!” I replied.  “I’ll just go pay my bar tab and meet you guys at the front door.”   Now, this is where I failed.  I was hellbent on paying the bartab.  The bar was three deep and I couldn’t get in close to save my life.  I shoulda just given Brian some loot and left with the girls.  Instead, I stood in line for what seemed like hours trying to get paid up.  By the time, I was done they were nowhere to be found.   Worse yet, I could not remember the name of said bar they were going to.   The band was taking another break and I began relaying the story to Brian as we walked back over to teacher and the fat friend.  He berated me for not knowing the name of the bar.  I wasn’t worried.  There were plenty of other fish in that pond.   We chatted with teacher and fat friend for a while until Brian had to go back onstage.  Right after he left, teacher turned up the heat on me.  Now, I was really confused.  Was Brian winging me with teacher and gonna entertain the fat friend back at the band house.   Now, I know what you’re thinking right now. “But Mike, you said that a wingman doesn’t have to jump on the grenade.  You said that a wingman’s job is to build up his wing!”   Yes, but sometimes the wingman does have to divert the obstacle’s attention so his wing can focus on the target.   The band started playing and teacher was all over me.  Now, she’s my Plan B. Looks like I’m still on track to have a good night!   She kept saying how cool and personable I was.  I called her out on those statements and asked why she would be surprised. “Well, when Brian said you were a nuclear scientist, I thought you would be some social idiot who couldn’t carry on a conversation with an average person,” she said with a smile on her face.   “Wait a minute.  Brian told you I was a nuclear scientist?”   “Yeah that’s what he said.”   Now, a wingman’s job is to build up his wing.  But I never would’ve anticipated he would build me up as a nuclear scientist.  It’s kind of a stretch of the truth.  I work in nuclear in an engineering role, but a scientist I am not.   The deal was sealed.  This teacher wanted me all for herself and every other guy there was non-existent by this point. All we had to do was work out logistics.   The two girls went back to the band house with us and we hung out for a while drinking and snacking.  When Brian passed out face first in the toilet, party was over.  Teacher and I retired for a lesson in…   Sorry guys, this isn’t a dude harlequin romance piece!    The next morning we woke to a very pissed off Brian. As it turns out, the teacher was Brian’s intended slump buster.  In his efforts to build me up so I could reciprocate the social proof he actually turned the teacher on to me.   I didn’t know he was working her for himself.  When she turned on to me, I took it as the rewards of Brian’s efforts on my behalf.  He didn’t know it, but he was the perfect wingman that night!   Of course a wingman is also good for helping close deals lasting more than a night.  Just this past weekend, Brian was the perfect wing on a potential regular hang.  We hung out together with a new friend in tow. She saw just how cool my friends really are and how much fun she would have spending time with us.   That’s a true wingman.  No, that’s the wingman of  the century!Thursday, October 08, 2009 (20:06:18)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=454.htmlMy best friend, Brian, called me a couple of weeks ago with a bribe. I was all excited. What kinda bribe would he have in store? Would he have some tickets to a kickass metal show? Probably not. He’s not really into metal and he’d probably rather get some tickets to something we could enjoy together. Maybe it was some Reds tickets? That would be cool. Did he have a young lady I may have met once and wanted to see me again that he was going to ‘arrange’ her conveniently being in the same area he was going to take me to? Well as much as I love women, Brian’s history with those efforts is one of less than stellar performance. One girl that I was really into acted like she was into me and then all of the sudden turned off the faucet. Another girl that was really into me, I wasn’t so much into and when we did go out, I came to find that she’s not as laid back as she makes herself out to be. Plus, I prefer younger women and Brian likes them our age or older. My current romantic interest is six years my junior and his is a year older than him. Did he have a bottle of some grade ‘A’ spirits we would drink in celebration of something? Brian and I enjoy the grade ‘A’ spirits all the time for no celebration other than living. As much as he was playing up this bribe, I doubted that was it. When he finally told me, I was surprised to say the least! Brian was having his girlfriend come in from Chicago and wanted the three of us to hang together last weekend. Ok, that may be special for him but what did I care? Girls come and go out of our lives all the time. What makes her so special? In case you missed it, I did use the term ‘girlfriend.’ Brian actually used it and I was floored. A lot of people toss around certain words with ease and ‘girlfriend’ is one. Brian and I don’t. We’ve both been through a string of female companions, romantic interests, and friends with benefits in the past couple of years but have yet to have one that was special enough to call a girlfriend. There had to be something special about this one. I was interested in meeting her. Oh, and Brian was getting us a couple of rooms at the Mariott and we were going to party righteously rockstar style! I wasn’t able to leave Chillicothe until later than I really wanted to. Brian was playing that night with G Miles and the Hitmen at The Madison Theater. They were opening for Dilbert Mcclinton and had an earlier than usual curtain time. I finally got there with about two tunes left in their set. After the set was over, Brian’s girlfriend located me. I had asked him to send me a picture of her or at least describe what she was wearing in a text, so I’d know who to look for. I guess he thought it would be funnier if I wandered around the place looking stupid instead. I figured that the band’s set would be over soon and I would just find Brian afterwards. Instead of looking for Brian’s girl, I decided to try to make some new friends. And that’s when she found me. A sexy voice called my name from afar. I immediately turned to see a flaxen haired fair skin alluring creature of the fairer sex walking my way. At first, I was excited. This excitement quickly turned to fear as she began approaching and I couldn’t remember her name or where I knew her from. She offered her hand and said, “My name’s Poopie. I’m Brian’s friend!” And a wave of relief passed over me. Yes I know, Poopie is one heck of a name for a girl. It’s not actually her real name. It’s a name I heard Brian calling her when he thought I wasn’t listening. So, out of respect for her privacy and total disregard for his, I’ll call her Poopie. Now, Poopie was quite the looker. I could definitely see why Brian was interested in the wrapping. Brian and I both think hot chicks area a dime a dozen, so I knew there was some sorta coolness and brains in that total package. I would later discover that she was a forensics DNA scientist or something like that. Wow, she had a big brain too! I followed her in hopes of meeting Brian. I was longing for some libations born of natural sulfur free spring water and didn’t want to imbibe without him. When she instructed me to have a seat, I noticed that I was at a table of gorgeous women and no dudes! My life went from ok to fantabulous in a moment. The bevy of beautiful babes perched at this table was bountiful and babealicious! I had to pinch myself to make sure that I was still alive. As it turns out, I knew them! They were either girlfriends or wives of the guys in G Miles & The Hitmen. This was even better. Being surrounded by gorgeous women makes other chicks find you desirable. The fact that I was with them and there was nothing sexual between any of us drives that up. The thought process is that this guy is surrounded by beautiful women and he’s not hitting on them like it doesn’t matter and he’s around beautiful women all the time. This makes you seem safe and socially aware. I was planning on using this perception to my advantage. Only, I made a mistake and told one of them later on that evening. I also think Brian said earlier that he was on a wingman mission. This would eventually be an asswhoop for me as Big ‘D’ was all about going to places where I was sure to get laid. I kinda made me feel like I seemed pathetic and I’m not all about that. I am not outcome dependent. I just like to have fun and enjoy the ride that is my life. When I meet some neat people and make new friends, cool. When I meet a cute and fun young lady and we hit it off, great. When she decides that I am special enough to invite me to her bed or accompany me into mine, sweet. That whole experience just adds to my already kickass life! Brian finally made his appearance! Jack followed shortly thereafter. When I asked, “oh, it’s gonna be one of those nights!” I knew I was in for some hell raisin’. Dilbert McClinton hit the stage and the rest of the guys from G Miles joined us. This Dilbert guy was playing some old country style blues. I dug it. I did notice that he looked like a drunk and high Burt Reynolds when he sang though. Maybe he was drunk and high, I dunno. I did some dancing, got felt up a little, and then returned to my friends to announce that I was hungry. We settled on a Cajun place down the road and began walking or cabbin’, I can’t really remember. It was one of those kind of nights remember? We walked and there was a four piece jazz band playing on a stage behind the bar. The sax player looked shockingly like Brian’s Old Man. It was eerie. The band was fab and I was really enjoying the etouffee. But there was this tractor beam pulling me towards the back of the place. I kept seeing hot chicks in formal attire walking around me to the back room. I had to see what was in there. I stood my happy ass up and waltzed right in like I owned the place. There were loads of hot chicks all dolled up, food all over the place, and people in black bowties handing out drinks. I thought I had died and gone to heaven! That feeling lasted for about five seconds until one of the bigger guys wearing a bowtie asked me if I needed any help. “Dude, I’m here for the party!” “Sir, I think you may be looking for something else. I believe your party’s over there,” he said as he pointing over my shoulder. “But I wanna be here!” “Sir, the restroom is right over there. Would you like me to help you find it?” Luckily for me, I was still sober enough to realize this was a polite yet firm way of telling me to leave. My presence wasn’t welcome there and should I decide to disobey his direction, I would be forcefully helped out. I couldn’t tell you how many of them it would’ve taken to help me out, but I could’ve guessed how many of them there would be. The night was still young and I had no desire to have my head pounding that early. I took his advice and went to the bathroom. When I walked back into the main dining area, I felt some water hit me. I looked around trying to find a leak somewhere. I guess the bartender saw this and admitted to splashing some water on me by accident. This was good as I started drinking for free, again! From there we walked across the street to a quaint little bar upstairs from another restaurant. The pickins was slim in this place. Actually, it was nearly non-existent. Brian and his friends were buying me drinks and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was staying. My desire to stay slowly started to morph into a burning desire to toss myself out the window and on to the street below. That solo guitar guy act was depressing. He played the saddest, most downtrodden version of Billy Jean I have ever heard. This guy was like an dismal version of the Four Non-Blondes all rolled into one package with a penis. I announced I had to leave and the rest of the group couldn’t agree more. We did a little pub crawlin’ into a bunch of places that Dee was certain I was going to ‘get laid in.’ I really just wanted to enjoy the company of my friends and have a few drinks. Every bar/pub I went to was lame on some level and I would want to leave. I finished my beer fast and was on to the next one. This led to a lot of beer drinking. A lot of beer drinking. I started the night with a wad o’ cash in my pocket and by now, it was empty. We made it back to Mariott and in true Brian and Mike fashion, we pulled out a bottle of whiskey and sat around talking about life. I quickly figured out why Brian was so excited about the night. He was with friends he loved. As it turns out, Poopie and Brian are old friends from college. I’m not going to presume anything but did observe some flirtiness and boyfriend/girlfriend interactions. Now, I’m not saying he loves her on a romantic level, but definitely on a platonic one. That’s always a good basis for a romantic relationship. Poopie is going through a divorce from an epically tragic douchebag optometrist. This Ed Hardy wearing mooseknuckle ran out on his marriage with some blonde hottie gold digger to Europe. He blew his whole wad on the Paris Hilton wannabe and has nothing to show for it except for a divorce suit. Good job there, Mr Pretentious Sugar-Coated Prick! We talked about eye doctor douche for a while and the layers of his douchery just got thicker and thicker. The more we peeled away, the thicker it became. I found out that he’s into role playing games and martial arts. He’s not into the kind martial arts where you kick ass or defend yourself. No, No, eye doctor douche likes the kind that’s more like ballet. He also blogs about it and his RPG experiences. Not only is his life so boring he has to live a made up one in cyberspace, but he goes to cyberspace to tell all of the other virgins in his clan about it. I know he’s not physically a virgin, but his emotional status has reverted back to that. He also blogs about his trials in separation from Poopie, calling her ‘Ex-Wife Lord 3000’. What a motard! There’s no way he’s been like that his entire life. Poopie is just too cool to ever have hooked up with, much less marry such a fuckstick. I woke the next day early, around noon. Brian and Poopie had already been out to eat and wanted to go to the Cincinnati Museum Center. This is a rally neat place. I had been there before but didn’t remember until Brian reminded me it looked like the Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo. Hey, you can’t say Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo, without singing that little soundbyte afterwards. We pulled up to the parking lot attendant’s booth and asked her what her super-power was. I mean, she was after all working at the Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo. When she wouldn’t tell us feigning some lack of knowledge of her super-power we ascertained it was shooting photons out of her nose ring. And then she laughed a happy laugh instead of an evil one and we knew the car was safe in her care. The museum is the museum. I’m not going to go on and on telling you how cool it was. I will however tell you about the picture I wanted with the woolly mammoth. You see, there’s a woolly mammoth dying a violent death in a freezing pool of water while being pulled down by the ice in the Ice Age Cavern. I’ve always wanted a picture of me strangling a woolly mammoth. The mammoth was close to the edge and I didn’t have to leap very far across the water to make my way to his neck for said picture. Unfortunately, Brian and Poopie didn’t think this was as good as an idea as I and began protesting the second I was on top of the mammoth. Sorry, no picture. We went back to the hotel, took a power nap, and left for a music festival Brian was playing with G Miles & The Hitmen. It was a neato little festival. I really liked that it had beer. Once we were done there, we moved over to the Midway. The Midway is a great place right in Fort Thomas. The food’s good and the beer is cheap. We sat at our usual table and ordered some drinks. I surveyed the landscape and noticed a couple of guys wearing UK hats. I just couldn’t resist. I walked up to the bar and gave them a rationing of shit. I was so interested in the shit slinging that I didn’t even notice the cutie sitting right next to wear I was standing. She immediately acted interested in me and what I had to say. We talked about football and out of nowhere, not even with a little prompting by me, she said, “Well, buy me a shot and we’ll talk about it more!” Oh yeah, like I’m gonna let her use me for free drinks that easily. “I tell you what. I’m sitting right over there. You come on and join us and I’ll think about it.” Not only did she join us, but she followed me. I thought, “Damn, this bitch must be thirsty!” Now, I have to tell you that I saw right through her initial efforts to have me buy her a shot. But as she made her presence at the table known by crushing my ego, I felt a challenge. We were having a battle of wits and I was losing. After three rounds I was down one. She was getting a shot. This was just too entertaining for me. But still, I wasn’t convinced that she was there for anything other than some drinks. She said that she didn’t hit on guys she didn’t like for drinks as there was too much room for confusion and bad vibes. Yeah, whatever. I don’t buy that for a second. But, like I said she was entertaining and I figured it was worth $3. Plus we agreed to buy a round at a time, so she would eventually have to make up for it. She had a pretty storied past. She had just wrecked her car and got a DUI for it, but she was the Midway waiting for her parents to come from the music festival Brian just played at and take them home in their car. That didn’t quite add up. Why would it be a better decision for her to drive her parents home in their car when she had the DUI. She explained that they had been drinking. Duh, what was she doing? She also told me that she made an appearance on GodsGirls.com when she showed me her tattoos. GodsGirls.com is a competitor to SuicideGirls.com, a site I’ve been published on, so I knew of it. She told me she was Suzie Slaughter on GodGirls.com. She also talked about how she tried stripping for a night and she did suspension shows from time to time. I told her that I knew of GodsGirls.com and have submitted stuff to them in the past and that I was published on SuicideGirls.com. She said that she didn’t want to SG because they didn’t pay enough. I know what she meant. I haven’t shot for SG in some time. She was working towards a master’s in hospitality management at Ohio State. She got her culinary bachelors from somewhere I can’t remember and did her internship in Italy. She had been to loads of different places, mostly Europe and Africa. When she said South Africa, Brian’s ears perked up. All of this at the ripe old age of 23. Brian bought the next round of shots and started talking about South Africa. I never really heard her answer of his questions. As a matter of fact now that I think about, she changed the subject pretty quickly. Right after that she sent a text to her best friend who was in Italy doing her internship. We were getting ready to head to Terry’s Turf Club in Cincinnati to hear Brian play some real in your face jazz. She wanted to join us. Everybody was game. All we had to do was have the last round of shots. You remember, the one she was supposed to buy? I asked her what she was going to buy for her round. Oh, she explained that she didn’t have the money to buy any drinks because she was paying for her school all buy herself with no loans or financial aid. Brian felt sympathetic and let it pass. I don’t know if I bought it so much, but I let it pass. By this time, she had grabbed my twigs and berries twice and was touching me on the arm and shoulder quite frequently. She was also high-fiving a lot, which I found annoying after like the twentieth time. Her phone rings. It’s the ‘rents. She has to leave to go pick them up and take them home. She informs us that they live just down the road and the trip should only take her 20 minutes or so. This made me curious. Brian lives maybe five minutes by car and we can walk it about 10. Cab fare is less than $5. Why weren’t they taking a cab if they had planned on drinking? I guess poor planning runs in her family. She did claim to have just gotten a DUI. She walked out the door and it dawned on me. I was never going to see her again. That hour or so of entertainment only cost me $3, so it was worth it. We exchanged a couple of texts. She kept promising she was on her way back and wanted to go to Terry’s with us. 20 minutes turned into 40 and before you knew it an hour had passed. It was time to go to Terry’s and the wait for her return was an asswhoop. I texted her, “We’re bouncing. See ya there!” I chose this instead of something like “It was nice to meet you” or “Take it easy” because I didn’t want it to come across as a deal closer. I knew it was though. By the time we got to Terry’s a light drizzle that set in. We walked in and immediate found out that this place was way more popular than the number of seats it held. Standing outside wasn’t such a desirable option, as it was raining and some smokers were underneath an awning leaving very little room for anybody else, even more smokers. A spot finally opened up at a back table and we sat down. We ordered our burgers with anticipation just in time to mosey on over to a better table. We perched up on the seats right up front and settled in for a night of great jazz. The burgers were delicious. I can definitely understand why Food Network Magazine picked Terry’s as Ohio’s best place to get burgers. I measure my burgers by how many napkins it takes to eat them. These were five napkin burgers! Just as we finished up our burgers and were talking with the drummer, a raging douchebag walked up to our table and asked the drummer if he could grab his sticks and play on his set. I think I may have met eye doctor douche’s Cincinnati version. This blonde Hurley shirt wearing spike hair having douche retard kept on asking, nay begging, the drummer to play his set. The drummer guy was handling it all diplomatically, saying that the restaurant didn’t like it when people started banging on stuff during breaks and that he was scared douchebag would take his job. This guy wouldn’t stop. He kept on for maybe two minutes. I had enough. “Dude, what’s your job?” I asked. “I’m a landscaper,” he replied. “Well this analogy is probably lost on you, because you’re dying for people to use your equipment and help you out. But he’s not. He doesn’t want you touching his set. Go away!” “You’re an asshole! I used to play drums in high school. I know what I’m doing.” “Just go away!” I said as I was thinking that I ride a lawn tractor twice a week but that doesn’t qualify me to run a landscaping business. Or maybe it does? Douche went away, but not before tossing more insults at me. I have to admit, I kinda wanted to pummel that dweeb into a little pulpy mess and shove him into his own beer bottle. But, I was getting my way. He was leaving. But, Butthead kept running his mouth! “Dude, shut up! I’ve dropped it and you’re still running your mouth. Shut the fuck up! Seriously!” Now people were getting nervous. Some of the restaurant workers came over to block any attempts either one of us would make jumping at the other. Brian was trying his best to diffuse the situation with talk of logic and reason. But Butthead douche wasn’t hearing it. He kept on running his mouth as his friend and friend’s girlfriend ushered him out. Now, I really won. He has to leave and I get to stay and hear some great jazz. What a dumbass. Speaking of dumbasses, I woke Sunday morning and checked GodsGirls.com for Suzie Slaughter. Not only is there not a Suzie Slaughter on GodsGirls.com, but there’s not even a Suzie or a Slaughter. Hell, there’s not even a Slaughter for that matter. I couldn’t resist. I texted Little Miss Liar, Liar Pants on Fire and said, “You’re quite the storyteller. I checked out God’sGirls.com this morning and didn’t see any Suzie, much less a Suzie Slaughter. “I, however, didn’t lie. You can see for yourself at http://www.MichaelNewbern.com. “I don’t think I list SG as a publishing credit, but I do list most of my others. “All bark and no bite makes Suzie Slaughter the loser last night.”Friday, October 02, 2009 (00:42:12)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=453.htmlA friend and I rode to DC from Chillicothe, OH and back last weekend. We went to DC to march in the 9/12 TEA Party protest. I wrote about that day in a separate blog you can read here. Instead, I’m going to use this blog to write about the ride there and back. I came across the TEA Party just a few weeks ago. I remembered hearing about it in passing and decided to look it up. A few clicks on Google and I found that a rally was being scheduled in DC for 9/12/09. Now, I have to admit. I was eager to march on the Capital and sound off my voice of opposition of big government. I was also eager to ride to DC over those mountains in West Virginia. One reason gave credence to the other. I’ll ride by myself. I have no problem with that at all. I regularly ride the 388 miles to Nashville and back alone. There’s also something to be said for riding with a friend or a group of friends. I was prepared to ride this all by myself. As the time drew nearer, finding someone to ride with was looking more and more bleak. Then out of nowhere, I was talking to an old friend of mine that lives near Nashville. She wasn’t feeling so hot about a couple of situations in her life. I could sense she needed to get away for a while and let her worries wisp away in the wind. When she said that she was looking forward to a weeklong vacation, I knew exactly what I had to do. “Hey, come with me to DC to march on the Capital!” I ordered. “It’ll be good for you. I’m going to ride the whole way there and back. I really don’t wanna go alone and you need to get out of dodge for a bit. You should come!” She thought about for a couple of hours and texted me back later that she would love to go. I started making travel arrangements like mapping out the route and booking the hotels. I also instructed her on what she would need for the trip. She had never ridden anymore than a couple of hours at a stretch and really had no clue what to expect on a three-day 1,100 mile ride. I’ve done it a few times. I’ve learned most of my lessons the hard way and have been smart enough to listen to some old timers for the others. Being prepared is easy and can save you loads of headache in the long-run. Preparedness usually comes with packing the appropriate gear. Here’s my list:Clothing needs to be comfortable and weather appropriate. Since we were leaving an 80 degree climate to ride over the mountains sometimes at elevations of 3,500 feet, we needed to be prepared for the changes in temperatures. I pack one pair of jeans, socks, underwear, and a t-shirt per day and an extra set in case I get soaked midday. I also packed a long sleeve shirt and wore one on the initial ride. Layering is the most effective means of staying warm and being able to dress down to stay cool at the same time.We also had enough room to pack leathers. I’m glad I did. My jacket is pretty versatile with its zip out liner and ample ventilation ports, so the switch from cool to warm wasn’t so bad. Well, except for once.Toiletries. I mean you wanna stay clean. Nothing helps you sleep better than a nice warm shower and going to bed feeling all clean!Rain gear. Dusty, my companion for the ride, didn’t own any rain gear. I advised her to go out and pick up some Frogg Toggs. They’re relatively inexpensive and do a good enough job for the value. You don’t get a set of boot covers with the Frogg Toggs and there are some other sacrifices you make for the price, but they would suit her just fine. You have to remember, this was a one time trip for Dusty. Investing in a quality riding rain suit would’ve been a little much.Sunscreen. Yes, even in the cold and/or under an overcast, you may very well regret not wearing sunscreen. On a motorcycle, a sunburn is compounded by windburn. Neither are very comfortable. Added together and you have a bad day on your hands.Lip balm. It’s sunscreen for your lips There were also a couple of other travel tips I offered up that don’t include packing, such as:Drink lots of water. Riding a motorcycle dehydrates you. The wind rushing over your exposed skin is the culprit. Drinking lots of water, not soda or coffee, will keep you from getting a headache in the most mild cases of dehydration and could advert a hospital stay in the event of a severe case.Wear earplugs. It’s a wind thing again. Riding with a full-face helmet alleviates this need. Any helmet where your ears are exposed may require the use of earplugs. I have a windshield on my police cruiser which helps some. But for really long hauls, like 1,100 miles in three days, you’re gonna wish you had plugged your ears.Layer. I covered that above.Share your route with friends that won’t be riding with you and check in with them from time to time. The larger the group, the less you need to do this. It would just be the two of us on one bike riding through some pretty remote areas. We needed to let people know where we would be. I never wanted to do this growing up, but it’s a good idea. We finally got the scooter all packed up and headed out. The temperature was a warm 80 degrees which led Dusty to question my use of a long sleeve shirt. I explained that what feels nice now, will be cooler scootin’ down the highway at 80 miles an hour. She took my advice and is glad for it. We wouldn’t be doing much scenic riding to DC. We mostly needed to get there. I did opt for a northerly route through Pennsylvania because, well, I wanted to mark it off my map. I was initially worried about Dusty and how she’d be able to handle riding over the mountains and the associated twisties. I used to instruct my female passengers to just look over the shoulder on the same side as the direction I’m turning as I turn. I got this technique from a riding coach and had hit or miss success with it. Rather than taking a more passive role as a passenger, some of them would end up being more active in the turn by actually shifting their bodies into the lean. I decided I would try something a little different with Dusty. I told her about the look and lean principle, but downplayed it. Instead I asked that she fix her stare over one shoulder and try to keep her shoulders aligned with mine. The goal was to turn her into the same kind of weight in the back as a heavy bag died down to the rear seat. And it worked! She took that instruction very well and was actually a pleasant passenger to have aboard. It was like she had been riding for years. She definitely made my job easier and allowed me to focus on other tasks. By the time we made our way into the Allegheny Mountains, she was so seasoned I almost forgot she was even there! The ride there was pretty uneventful until we hit the peak on the ridge and began our descent. A storm front had moved in and from the top of the mountains all I could see in our path was rain. The night was starting to move in making the scenario even less desirable. It’s one thing to ride in the rain. It’s one thing to ride at night. It’s one thing to ride in an area unfamiliar to you. Riding in the rain at night in an area you’re not familiar with is something completely different altogether. I didn’t want to tell Dusty and make her nervous, but once the sun set and the rain set in, my fun quotient dropped exponentially. Normally, riding for me is fun and is very little work. I’ve been doing it so long and have practiced advanced techniques so much that even the most aggressive of twisties are a breeze. However, I had to work once the sun set. I found myself trying to follow cars so I would know how deep a corner was. My glasses were collecting water droplets which made the lights oncoming traffic more blinding. The last hour of the day took so much of my concentration and focus that it tired me more than the previous eight or nine. We made it to the Aloft Dulles Hotel around 9:30 pm and were greeted by bright neons across the entire rainbow spectrum. Once I walked inside (Dusty stayed with the bike since the nightclub there was hoppin’), I was greeted by a smiling Priscilla. I knew we were in for a resting stay. I don’t wanna make this a review for the hotel, so I’ll be brief. The Aloft is a moderately priced, upscale, modern hotel with a touch of Aloha. The staff was friendly and helpful. Despite the lack of restaurants in the area, we were able to select from a variety of food possibilities and had our dinner delivered. This hotel is my first choice when going back to the DC area. We woke refreshed the next morning and ready to tackle the day. The ride into DC wasn’t as bad as we had anticipated. Traffic was just starting to pick up the usual cager offenses followed the trend. They get more egregious in populated areas. Parking on the other hand was a nightmare. Once I got the bike parked and started to lock everything up, another rider pulled up and took up the plot of pavement next to me. I welcomed this as there’s safety in numbers. We talked about riding and the protest as he locked up his ride and then we made our way into the crowd. After Dusty and I were done protesting, we made our way back to the bike. We started to get ready and I sat down on the curb behind it. From this vantage point, I could see the rear tire plain as day. It was not good. That tire needed to be replaced. It needed to be replaced before we left. However, I failed to perform a proper check and identify that need. I started to get that sinking feeling in my stomach. It was around 2 and I had no idea where the nearest dealership was. Make fun all you like, but I like Harley Dunlops. Technology is awesome! Between my Palm Treo 800W and my Magellan Maestro GPS, I was able to locate the nearest dealership. We verified this information with GPS 0.1 (the Harley Ride Atlas). I made a phone call and set up a tire change. We made our way to Patriot Harley in Fairfax, VA. It was a short ride, about half an hour. We dropped off the bike and walked next door to have some sushi. I love sushi! I’m not able to find any sushi around these parts. The closest sushi I’ve been able to find is in Columbus and Cincinnati. So, when the guy at the shop told us we could find some good sushi next door, I couldn’t wait to get over there. Dusty said she liked sushi. But she only likes the kind without raw seafood. That’s fine there’s still loads of other great stuff you can get. We decided on a Fairfax roll and a Harley roll. Just after we ordered, Dusty pointed to a picture of some prawns on a placard at the table. She made a comment about how gross they looked and asked what they were. Once I explained, I thought she wouldn’t think they were so gross. Instead she told me how she can’t eat anything with a face on it and how she had just eaten peel and eat shrimp in the past couple of years. Well, now she was gonna eat a prawn! I ordered a couple of prawns. They came out on a bed of cold rice noodles. Man, they looked yummy! I told Dusty how to eat them and teared right into mine. I guess she missed the demonstration on how to get the tail off, because she asked me and looked at it all confused. I just took it off for her. It’s not like we had a bucket full of mudbugs and she could screw one up learning. She gladly at the tail once I told her that was basically a fried shrimp. The rest of he prawn? Not so much. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her to do anything more than feign an attempt at sucking the head. We had a while to kill, so we started talking. Next thing you know we were talking about all of this metaphysical stuff. I was explaining some of my theories and she was sharing hers. It was a pleasant discussion with someone that held some opposing views and some similar views. We walked back to the dealership. I settled up with the bike and we were on our way. We had about an hour to our lodging for the night and it was still pretty early. This was good as we spent the better part of the day walking around DC had still 500 miles through the mountains of West Virginia the next day. We pulled up to Travel Lodge in Winchester, VA close to dusk. I pointed out that someone must be getting married nearby as there were young women all dressed in matching gowns loitering near one car. When I went back outside to unpack the bike, I discovered that they ceremony (or at least the reception) was actually taking place at the Travel Lodge. The girls were painting up the couple’s getaway car! That’s right! We were staying at the fancy hotel in town! We was some high falutin’ travelers! We had ayasked for the ‘no cockroach’ room, but they musta misundastood. It’s all gud though! Dusty only had to skwash one. Although the temptation to crash the wedding reception being held mere doors from our room was quite alluring, we decided to just rest instead. We walked to a restaurant to have a cocktail, but then took it to a liquor store once we saw the ‘Church of the Month’ poster on the front door. Well, actually we couldn’t find a spot at the bar and decided to leave. The poster reference just sounded better! We got back to the room, poured a couple of drinks, turned on the news to see some coverage of the rally, and mapped out our route for the next day before drifting off to sleep. The next morning, we hit the road bright and early. Well, it was early. I don’t so much about bright. The sun was trying to peek out, but the clouds were having none of it. The last day was the one I was looking forward to. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy taking part in the rally. But, I was ready to ride some mountains. I had high hopes! And I was not disappointed! I’ve ridden some great roads, like The Blue Ridge Parkway, The Cherohala Skyway, and The Tail of the Dragon and riding through the Monongahela National Forrest rivaled the best of motorcycle adventures. The roads are well-maintained and offer plenty of visibility. The corners vary from wide and sweeping to harsh and hairpin. There’s even a couple of switchbacks. I could barely get enough of it! And to top it all off, it was Sunday afternoon and we encountered very little traffic! That’s about the time we made our trek off the mountain and into a serene little valley. We found a quaint little country restaurant. I opted for the country fried steak and Dusty had some sorta beef tips on toast. It was filling, but I wouldn’t seek the place out again should I be back out that way. The rest of the ride was freeway and we needed to make some good time. I had an early morning the next day and would be hurting from the lack of rest. We made it home around dusk, give or take, and settled in to watch some Sunday Night Football. I think it was the Packers and Bears, but I can’t really remember. It was a great trip, one that I will remember fondly for some time to come. You can see some pics of the trip we took including some Dusty took from the back of the bike in the photogallery. Below is a map of our route. View Ride to DC for the 9/12 Project March in a larger mapThursday, September 24, 2009 (01:16:00)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=452.htmlThe ball was set in motion on April 15, when the TEA Parties really started to gain ground. Since then they have grown in both numbers of parties and attendees. The 9/12 TEA Parties not only protested out of control government, but celebrated patriotism. The largest by far was in Washington, DC. Some estimates put the attendance as low as 60,000 while one estimate by the University of Illinois put the attendance as high as 1.7 million. I am proud to say I was in that number. It was an awe inspiring event to say the least. My good friend Dusty and I left Asburn, VA around 8 am and made it to DC in under an hour. Once we located Freedom Plaza and thought we had a place to park we began to make our way into the droves of people that were already collecting in preparation for the 11 am march. Unfortunately, a security guard advised us not to park where we did. I put the bike in a spot right next to a Road Glide on the sidewalk in front of a hotel mere yards from Freedom Plaza. He was concerned someone would knock it over. I parked it on a hill with the kickstand on the low side. Someone would have to try to knock it over. He said that the police would be lax on parking violations, but we’d be better off moving it. After asking him where we could park, I spotted a nice plot of pavement. Dusty waited patiently for me to move the bike. I was going to go down a couple of blocks and come back to Freedom Plaza from the other side. Turns out that DC streets aren’t as simple as that. After nearly fifteen minutes, I finally found a spot to park in front of the Museum of American History. Just before I began the walk to find Dusty, she called from a California number. Turns out some folks from the left coast that were there in protest were nice enough to lend her a phone to call me. “Do you want me to head somewhere,” she asked. I replied with an emphatic set of instructions. “NO! You stay right there. I’ll come to you!” The easiest way for someone to get lost and never find their party is for both sets that have been split up to try to find the other. One set (or person) should tell the other where they are at and stay put. I’ve done this enough to have learned that lesson the hard way. Once we finally met up, we headed back to the bike. Dusty was still in possession of her helmet but not her phone. We made the swap and began our walk back to Freedom Plaza. It was at this point that I realized I had to pee. This was a concern for me. I was surrounded by government buildings and figured I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere that would let a random dude walk in and use the facilities. I decided to ignore the urge. We made it back to Freedom Plaza only to find that the crowd had swelled immensely. The crowd was so large in fact, that we couldn’t get anywhere near the Plaza until the march actually began. This was turning out to be huge, much larger than I had anticipated. The crowd began migrating toward The Capital amidst cheers and chants of “USA! USA!” and songs of patriotism. For the most part the crowd was civilized. They carried signs and paraded down the streets without incident. There were the folks who had extremist signs that compared Obama to Hitler and the Nazis, but they were rare. For the most part the rhetoric was anti out of control government and pro American citizen voice. You can see several signs that Dusty and I took pictures of here. There was one incident that made me feel ashamed, but it was isolated and a rarity, not the norm. A DC resident was trying to navigate her car through the droves of protesters. She was sporting a couple of Obama stickers and was being given a what-for by a female marcher. By the time we came up on them, her window was down and the TEA Party marcher was screaming into her car, broaching the plane of her open window. That was uncalled for and the only confrontational moment we experienced. I was really being troubled by my need to urinate at this point. We decided to try to find a business along the route we could duck into and make use of their facilities. We were more than prepared to pay for the right to piss, but not so much for the long lines we would encounter right along the march’s path. We stopped in a little burger joint and a CVS before finally settling on a Barnes & Noble a couple of blocks off route. We walked in and much to our surprise, there weren’t many folks in there at all. We were able to go straight to the restroom and make use of the facilities with nary a protest by any employees. We could’ve easily walked out without patronizing the public piss friendly store, but decided not to. Plus we were hungry and they had a Starbucks Café on site. We opted for a couple of warm stuffed pretzels and sat down to eat them. We didn’t rush. Instead we talked about the ride the day before and the excitement we felt being a part of such a movement. After cleaning up our table and tossing our waste in a trash bin, we walked back outside expecting to see the crowd had dissipated and we would have to hustle to catch up. Remember we were somewhere in the middle of the crowd as we began the march. To our shock, the crowd was still very large and had no end in sight. It was like we had put the march on pause to grab a bite to eat. I realized right then that we were taking part in something monumental. It was at this point in the day that I began to realize how truly awesome this whole thing was. We were seeing people from all walks of life, young and old, of all races and ethnicities. Hell, we even saw a cross-dresser amongst the crowd in peace. I was touched by it all, but four children made the most impact on me that day. While we walking and reading protest signs, cheers would start at the back of the crowd towards Freedom Plaza and migrate their way up to the front like a wave does at a football game. I get tingles up my spin thinking about it now. I get lumps in my through remembering those kids between the cheers. There were three girls and one boy, probably anywhere from 8-12 years old, walking arms locked down the road. They held small American flags in their hands and walked by themselves. This is an important fact because I know their parents were nearby, but there were no adults with arms reach of these kids. These children were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance at the top of their lungs as they walked. They were doing this all on their own. There were not adults prompting them. They were just doing what their hearts told them to do. I can’t reflect on that without getting watery eyed. We finally made it to the reflecting pool in front of the Capital. Once I was able to see all of the people, I felt a bit of déjà vu. This all reminded me of the Vietnam Protest scene in Forrest Gump. The picture of the sheer number of people could’ve easily been a screenshot from the movie. Nobody jumped in the pool though! We made our way to the edge of the Capital steps to hear some of the speakers. Up this close, people were elbow to elbow. You could barely move. Not being a fan of crowds, I decided it was time to move to a less dense area. This would turn out to be a task taking us nearly half an hour to move thirty yards. We finally made it out into an open area where we could at least move without touching someone. We could still see people as far as our eyes would allow. A band started playing signaling the end of the speakers and we decided to get out of dodge as quickly as we could. I could just imagine the traffic jam, which is not my favorite flavor by the way. I prefer grape. We had an hour ride ahead of us and needed some rest for the 500 miles we were riding the next day. I would like to think our voices made a difference. But, when I see Axelrod saying that we “had it wrong,” my hope diminishes. Even Obama thinks that the silent majority supports his health care plan. How can they even think that. There were thousands of people there united under one cause, smaller government. I strongly doubt that we are the minority. Sure poll numbers indicate that 58% of Americans support his position. The strongly oppose outweighs the strongly support by nearly 20 points. It’s just a matter of time before we convince those people on the fence and even sway some moderate supporters. As a matter of fact, we are seeing a shift in the health care rhetoric. The Obama administration and his far left buddies are backing off a lot of what was written in HR 3200. This is a step in the right direction. The day of reckoning will come. I am confident that our voice is being heard. Our elected officials need to take direction from the people they serve or they will be fired. Let’s just hope the damage is minimal before the reckoning.Thursday, September 17, 2009 (00:53:39)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=451.htmlI’ve been holding off on writing about the health care issue for some time. Quite honestly, I didn’t want to get into it. But now that Congress is back in session and President Barrack Obama decided last night was a good time to address the nation and our lawmakers on health care reform, I can’t hold back anymore. I’m not going to get into some tirade, rant, or whatever other negative description you would offer for what I am going to say. Instead, I am just going to point out why I don’t think the government should run health care, why Obama’s plan is ultimately an attempt at government takeover, and what we should do to start fixing the problem even though it’s really not all that bad. Last night, President Obama addressed Congress. His speech was quite insightful. To the Average Joe, it may sound like he really has our best interest at heart. However, his own explanation for his plan last night sounded a lot like the problems we have now. The added bonus we get is that the government will have the opportunity to screw up 1/7 of the US economy much in the same way they have several other programs including the two he cited last night. It’s just not a fix. Quote: There are now more than 30 million American citizens who cannot get coverage. In just a two-year period, one in every three Americans goes without health care coverage at some point. And every day, 14,000 Americans lose their coverage. Let’s do the math. The US Census estimated that in 2006, there were 300 million Americans. So, that means 10% of the population can’t get health care coverage. The way Obama wants to fix this is to require Americans “to carry basic health insurance -- just as most states require you to carry auto insurance.” Since the health insurance will be required, Obama proposes creating a “new insurance exchange, a marketplace where individuals and small businesses will be able to shop for health insurance at competitive prices.” Quote: Insurance companies will have an incentive to participate in this exchange because it lets them compete for millions of new customers. As one big group, these customers will have greater leverage to bargain with the insurance companies for better prices and quality coverage. This is how large companies and government employees get affordable insurance. It's how everyone in this Congress gets affordable insurance. And it's time to give every American the same opportunity that we give ourselves. This won’t work. It won’t work because we’ll have to appoint a new office to oversee this exchange. We’ll have to appoint people to negotiate for this lower cost coverage. It sounds good, but anytime the government gets involved in private sector, they screw it up. The government is not set up to run like a business. It never will. The most recent failure was the Cash for Clunkers program. The money ran out in less than a week and more had to be infused so that it could run for the target time period. The Cars.gov site shut down on several occasions forcing many dealer employees submitting the rebates to start the 45 minute application process all over. Dealer applications were being turned down left and right for errors as simple as a cross missing on a ‘T’. Some dealers still haven’t even been paid and have been living off of money from the manufacturers until the government payments arrive. The federal government even admits the program was undermanned. And now he’s asking us to trust the government with 1/7 of the US economy? He also mentions that choice and competition are the driving forces that increase quality while reducing end consumer cost. This is very true. And he does point to some alarming statistics. Quote: Unfortunately, in 34 states, 75 percent of the insurance market is controlled by five or fewer companies. In Alabama, almost 90 percent is controlled by just one company. But how does his proposed insurance cooperative promote that choice? Furthermore, how does his proposed not-for-profit public insurance option promote that choice? It’s just replacing one big company with another. Quote: But by avoiding some of the overhead that gets eaten up at private companies by profits and excessive administrative costs and executive salaries, it could provide a good deal for consumers and would also keep pressure on private insurers to keep their policies affordable and treat their customers better, the same way public colleges and universities provide additional choice and competition to students without in any way inhibiting a vibrant system of private colleges and universities. So now, we have an option that’s cheaper than the big bad insurance company option because the federal government is going to cut costs and forfeit profits? I’m not buying that. Those profits will be replaces by red-tape bureaucratic costs. Have you seen how much basic supplies cost the federal government and military? Don’t worry though. He has no plan of putting insurance companies out of business. He even minimizes how many people will sign up for the plan saying, “In fact, based on Congressional Budget Office estimates, we believe that less than 5 percent of Americans would sign up.” That’s half of those 30 million uninsured. If 30 million is such a staggering number, then half that would be pretty significant? Don’t you think? So, now the question of money. Quote: …those of us with health insurance are paying a hidden and growing tax for those without it, about $1,000 per year that pays for somebody else’s emergency room and charitable care. Where is the money for Obama’s public option going to come from? He does dance around the idea that it will pay for itself with premiums collected from the insured. But the whole reason those people want insurance don’t have it is because they can’t afford it. He even says that 95% of all small businesses will be exempt from the requirement to provide health care to their workers. According to the Small Business Administration, that’s roughly 114 million people that could potentially be added to the 30 million that aren’t insured right now. This coverage will be footed by the public. It won’t be through taxes, though. Don’t worry. He’s promised us that. Instead savings from wasteful programs like Medicaid and Medicare and the big bad profit driven insurance and drug companies will pay for it. Oh, you mean the savings we got when the federal government cut 500 million for home health care, the only program that’s been proven to work. Or how about the promised savings we’ve been hearing about for years that we’ll get by cutting the red-tape and bureaucratic costs? And then there’s this idea that drug and insurance companies will gladly foot the bill. [quote] Much of the rest would be paid for with revenues from the very same drug and insurance companies that stand to benefit from tens of millions of new customers.[quote] That, my friends is socialism. It doesn’t get much more obvious than that. His plan is ultimately a government takeover. He says it’s not his goal, but that’s what the end result will be. Several of his statements, some of which I’ve quoted here, vilify private insurance. He also touts the cheaper higher quality government option. How can a government takeover not be the end goal? If he really didn’t want government takeover, those statements would not exist in his rhetoric. Is the problem really even that bad? According to the statistics provided by the government 10% of the population is without coverage. That means one out of ten people you know don’t have coverage. How many of those are wealthy people who would rather pay for everything out of pocket? How many of those are young people who think they’re invincible? According to Obama himself, only 5% of the population would select the public option. That means half of that 30 million, or one out of twenty people cannot afford insurance. Isn’t Medicare and Medicaid supposed to take care of those people that can’t afford coverage due to a handicap? How many of that 5% really can’t afford coverage because they cannot work and how many of that 5% choose not to get jobs? I know people are losing jobs left and right in these trying times. I challenge the argument that it’s as bad as they say it is. I think it’s all scare tactics. Those scare tactics also include these little anecdotal stories about some poor sap who lost his coverage mid chemo because he didn’t report gallstones he didn’t even know he had and then died when the big bad insurance company delayed his treatment. There’s got to me more to this story. It can’t be as simple as that. Maybe there were complications with the chemo treatment while gallstones were present? Maybe the gallstones couldn’t be cleared while he was undergoing chemo? I seriously doubt that in today’s litigious society an insurance company would allow a man to die over something so simple. I’ll agree that our health care system needs some repairs, but not a complete overhaul. We need to put an end to frivolous lawsuits. We need to encourage preventative health care. Lastly, we need to allow competition across state lines. The lawsuits are ridiculous. There’s a reason we call a doctor’s profession the practicing of medicine. They’re not going to get it right all the time. Humans make mistakes. We should hold our health care providers responsible for malice and flagrant disregard for sound practices. Anything above and beyond that is excessive. You bring a lawsuit for $5 million dollars on Dr Smith because he missed a heart murmur on your 90 year old grandmother and she died of a heart attack on the way home from her weekly doctor visit, you deserve the punishment. Preventative care saves money. A car care analogy works well here. Let’s say you have an oil leak that you never notice. You also never change your oil. Eventually, your motor will run dry and seize up. Now, you have to replace the whole motor for several thousand dollars when a $30 oil change performed roughly every 2-3 months could’ve prevented the damage. Our bodies work much in the same way. Women live longer than men. Some data puts their lives at 15 years longer than their male counterparts. It’s partly due to stress and partly due to the fact that women visit a doctor more frequently. Competition across state lines is a good thing. Remember how in Alabama one company controls almost 90% of the market. There are several factors that influence why that is the case. Many companies have decided that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to offer coverage in that area because of the restrictions against coverage across state lines. Remove those restrictions and you increase the competition. There’s one more topic I would like to discuss before closing this out. A good friend of mine brought up a very valid point some time ago. He said that drug companies and health care providers in general are not rewarded for curing disease. Instead they generate the most profit from treating the disease. His solution is to limit the profit these drug companies and health care providers earn on treatment. I don’t buy into that just yet. I will agree that a large part of our problem is high drug prices. People in Africa are getting the same drugs we are at a fraction of the cost and it’s because we pay it. But limiting profit isn’t the answer I want to come to. If a drug company can afford to sell a drug at a fraction of the price overseas, then force them to sell it here for that much. The practice of selling necessity items at inflated prices as the market dictates is price gouging. We don’t allow home improvement stores to inflate prices on certain materials in the path of a hurricane and we shouldn’t allow drug companies to inflate prices of life saving drugs based on market need.Thursday, September 10, 2009 (22:30:00)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=450.htmlSometimes, I get in a mood to just pop a surprise on someone. Sometimes, I get surprises popped on me. Sometimes, like this weekend, I get both. The first surprise wasn’t really a surprise. I was kinda expecting it. It had to do with my career. It was a minor setback. I promise to let that cat out of the bag at a later date. The second surprise was one I was cooking up! The last time Brian, my bestest good friend, and I spoke we both had plans for the weekend that would keep us from hanging out. What I didn’t tell him was that my Friday plans were up in the air. When I found out he was playing with Leroy Ellington & The E-Funk Band, I decided a surprise was in order. I hit the road around 8:30 towards The Nasty Nati, Covington, KY actually. I wanted to ride, but took the advice of a friend in the area and the weatherman and drove my cage instead. I would later come to regret that as nary a drop fell on the trip there, around the Nati that night, or on the way back. But if I had ridden the scooter, I woulda missed out on the opportunity to have a nice conversation with an old friend on the way there. I also stopped to grab a couple of Arby’s toasted subs for $4 (less than $6 and I was full!) to keep from having to eat at Sidebar. Oh and for some reason, Brian called. We spoke briefly about my career surprise. After I passed through an area of poor reception and lost him, I texted letting him know that I was busy as we could just talk tomorrow. My evil plan was coming together, muah ah ah ahhhh! So, back to the conversation with an old friend. This dear friend of mine contacted me right out of the blue. We don’t get to talk much, so we had a lot of catching up to do. I let her in on my career issues and she caught me up as well. My friend works as an administrator type and has really had some rough couple of years. When she told me that she was about to embark on two books deals and her freelance writing was picking up, I was tickled pink! “What a nice surprise!” I thought to myself. I pulled into Sidebar’s parking lot and walked in around 10:30. I moseyed up to the bar and ordered two bottled American frosty beverages. I walked right up to the stage and gave one to Brian. Now, he was surprised! “What happened to ‘we’ll talk tomorrow’, dude?” “It’ll be tomorrow in less than two hours, so just chill!” We had a good time. It was the usual low key deal for me. You know, dancing, drinking, and being the one in every crowd (thanks for that one Mark)! I did get a chance to hear one of the E-Funk Band’s new originals, “There’s Something Funky Going On!” Cool tune. There’s a link to a video in an earlier post. There was one little moment that was out of the ordinary for even me that I just have to tell you about! Brian and I were sitting in the back of the bar near the kitchen while the band was on break. I was being my usual low-key outgoing self that night and so when random people would stop by the table to say hi, I kinda expected it. I was also with some members of the band which made our spot more popular. But when some random young chick walks by and says, “Hey, you wanna see my tits?” even we are taken aback. Not one to disappoint this poor girl, we told her we wouldn’t mind seeing her tits with a “Sure!” and weird surprised looks. She let those puppies free and I have to say they weren’t all that bad. Normally, you would expect someone who is whipping the girls out willy nilly style doesn’t have much in the boobage department. Not this girl. She didn’t have much else going for her, but her mammories sure were memorable. “Nice tits there toots!” “Thanks, I grew ‘em all by myself!” “What a nice surprise!” I thought to myself. We woke the next morning (yes, before noon!) and headed out to suck on some chili dogs outside the tasty freeze. Neither one of us wanted to play the Bobby Brooks role nor could we find a tasty freeze, so we decided on Skyline instead. It sure was yummy! I had a prior engagement (translation=party) to get to, so I bode farewell and headed on back to Chillicothe. On the way back, I exchanged messages with a new friend who asked me what I was up to that night. Being the consummate smartass that I am, I replied, “It’s beautiful out up here. You get only one guess.” When she replied with “I dunno, picking daisies…” I knew I had been one-upped. I can’t stand being one-upped. She knew I was going riding and was just being a smartass. I liked it. But I was still one-upped. I had to up the ante. I told her that I was riding and she missed out on the prize for not guessing right. After a couple more messages back and forth, I conceded to giving her a consolation prize for creativity. Only thing is that I had no prize in mind! To make matters worse, she wanted hints. I was digging myself deep! The party I was referring to is the Annual Aaron Reed Memorial Veteran’s Awareness Benefit. This year was being put together by a good friend of mine and I just had to go. There was gonna be loads of good old fashioned bluegrass, food, good times, and good people! I rolled up on the police bike just in time for Wake Up Jake, a college style band. I hang with these guys from time to time. They’re great entertainers and a bunch of fun guys. So are their wives/girlfriends. We visited for a while during their set. I learned all about Ron’s new standup base. I also learned about a pending trip to pick up a banjo. They wrapped up and I wanted to ride. The last band was gonna be a great show that I didn’t wanna miss. I just took a short jaunt around town during the in between band and came right back. This little music/drink fest was at the Elks Lodge in downtown Chillicothe. The Elks Lodge is right next door to the Sheriff’s Office and County Jail. Parking was at a premium. I figured I was on my old police bike and should park in an open area near the jail’s parking lot. Just as the two Sheriff’s Deputies approached, I began to think that was a mistake. I had had a couple of beers and was nowhere near worried about a DUI or public intox. I was concerned about these guys being azzholes to me. I have a low tolerance for azzholes, especially when they impact my happiness. I just saw myself getting irate with them and spending the night in the jail overlooking the party instead of being at it. They were actually surprisingly nice and wanted to talk about motorcycles! Yay!!! I love talking about motorcycles. I love staying out of jail even more! I finished talking with the two Deputies and I walked my happy ass right up to the beer trailer/bar and said, “I’ll take a Bood Light!” I got my drink, but the bartender refused my money. “What a nice surprise!” I thought to myself. I also became very concerned. The Lewis Brother Band was pumping out some kick ass bluegrass and the crowd was partying fo sho! I was out to have a good time and had high hopes for the prospects. The free beer was just a little too much. All I could think about was the jail next door. I know my alcohol limits. I was concerned that the fine officers in that building weren’t aware of that fact. Rather than giving them any reason to hassle me, I kept the number of drinks to a minimum. I was still my low-key outgoing usual self, just without the consumption of copious quantities of adult beverages. While taking a break in the dancing madness, I was approached by a cute curly-headed girl in a miniskirt wagging around a clipboard. She walked right up to me and asked if I was enjoying the band. “What a nice surprise!” I thought to myself. I was enjoying the whole experience including the band, the folks, and the dancing, so I said, “Honey, I love a good hoe-down!” “You wanna what with my huh?” “I said I love a good hoedown!” “I don’t know if we can do that here!” I took her clipboard and wrote on it, “I love a good hoedown!” “Oh yeah, me too!” Then the band went on break and we were able to chat for a bit. She was very intrigued. She started right off asking lots of questions. “So, I haven’t seen you around here. Where are you from? I live in Pike County.” Red flag! She’s a redneck. Anybody that tells you where they live in reference to a county is a redneck. I had no clue folks talked like that up here. They do that down in Southern Georgia and Northern Florida. There is some rednecks down that way, lemme tell ya! I’ve lived all over the south from Alabama to South Carolina and from Middle Tennessee to Central Florida and can tell you that the concentration of rednecks in the Jacksonville, Florida area is unequivocally the highest concentration of rednecks you’ll see anywhere in the US. The concentration goes down as you get further away from Jacksonville, but it still pretty high in the swamps of Southern Georgia all the way down to the Gator Nation. Another thing I’ve noticed around here is that everybody knows something about everybody. She asked me my name, but not just my first name. She wanted to know my last name, too. I’ve become accustomed to this. At first they would ask me my last name followed by “Who is your daddy and what does he do?” After the first few attempts at trying to explain my lineage to people out here, I figured that I should just tell them right away that I wasn’t from the area and was imported to work here. Once I see the inquisitive face after telling them my last name I’ll explain, “No, you don’t know any of my family. I’m not from around here. I moved here from Nashville to work at the ‘A-Plant.’” We exchanged pleasantries for a little while longer until I desired another drink. “I’m thirsty and am gonna get another beer. Sa ya around.” “See ya around. It was nice to meet ‘ya!” “Likewise, my dear.” I walked back up to the bar where I was getting free drinks. Free drinks are awesome! But, this was a benefit for Vets. I’m a Vet. Under normal circumstance, I could easily in my head justify the free beer. But, I just couldn’t do it that night. I knew the money would be put to use to help Vets and the families of Vets who were worse off than I. I just dropped money in a donation jar each time he wouldn’t take my $2. And then she walked back up, The Pike County Redneck Who’s Your Daddy Girl. “How come didn’t I see you at the Freely Music Fest a few weeks ago?” Now, my good friend Ben was standing right next to me. Ben is the ringleader of the whole event and pretty damn popular in this area. I can’t go out anywhere with him where we don’t meet at least six people he knows. “Ben, why didn’t you bring him to Freely Fest?” “He was out of town. Right Mike? You were in Cincy?” “What were you doing in Cincy?” she asked. “I can’t remember. I was booked for something.” “You were booked for something?” “Yeah, like an appearance. I’m a celebrity.” “You’re a celebrity? What do you do?” “I drink!” “Haha, you’re funny! I like you, Mike. Are you coming to the Keys after this?” Now normally, I would say that the after party is the one you want to attend. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe.” “No, you have to come. You just have to, Mike,” she begged. And then she said it. She made up my mind for me. “I don’t get out much living with my boyfriend and all.” And the train comes to a screeching halt! You see, there’s lots of wilderness out here and people love to hunt. I wasn’t quite sure what her motivation was, but I surely didn’t feel like giving her redneck boyfriend any reason to hunt me like a squirrel. I’m all about getting the nut, but I’m also all about avoiding the wrong end of a 12 gauge. “That’s a surprise I don’t want! No thank you!” I thought to myself “I’ll be there honey,” I said lying through my teeth. I just wanted to shut her up and drink my beer. That was the best way to do it. I would later meet said boyfriend and come to realize that a Smith & Wesson wasn’t the only formidable weapon in his arsenal. I left the benefit and walked right across the street to another one of Chillicothe’s night spots. There was something going on there called Wimfest. I didn’t know what it was, but there was loads of chick coming and going from that place. I should go inside. It can’t be a bad idea. It’s nothing but chicks! Wimfest is a women’s music festival. Once I got up to the door, I understood exactly what kind of people were there. I thought my life was in danger if I spent any more time with Pike County Redneck Who’s Your Daddy Girl. This place would’ve made that danger look like a day at Disney. All of those Rosie O’Donnells, KD Langs, and Melissa Etheridges would’ve whooped my cowboy hat wearin’, motorcycle riding, loud partyin’ ass for just breathing! “What a bad surprise that would’ve been!” I thought to myself. Alright, so I’ll try one last bar. I walked in to another bar around the corner and was immediately greeted by Sam, the bartender. Sam is an eccentric younger fellow I’ve had the pleasure of drinking with in the past. I asked for a beer and he pulled a cold bottle from the cooler. I pulled out my stack of bills to pay and Sam refused. “Don’t worry about it!” he said with a slur. “Whatever you need, you come see old Sam!” And now, I had a drunk bartender who was giving me drinks for free. “I’m not surprised, now. I’m scared!” I said out loud to myself. Why was the world conspiring against me? I need to be at home where I am safe. I sucked down that free beer, mounted my old police bike, and rode home as fast I legally could. The ride home gave me time to reflect. Reflect on the surprises I had given and been given so far that weekend. It also reminded of the prize I had promised for the next day. You remember, the prize I promised without actually having one earlier in the day! As I rode home, I formulated a plan. The prize had to be virtual in nature and something that was both cute and my new friend would like. I had very little clue about this girl and had to come up with something. Oh, the pressure! The next morning I woke and was on a mission. I grabbed a bowl of Life cereal (yes, Mikey does like it!) and started surfing the web. After a while, I found a couple of designs that I would alter and email them to her as her prizes. You see, I am a little skilled at graphic design, but not enough so I can design stuff this intricate on my own. She would’ve never got anything if I had tried that route. I could’ve photographed some things for her, but I wanted specific items/themes and was under a time crisis. She gave me a hard time about something the day before and I heard from a little birdie that she a penchant for a certain creepy crawly. I stole/altered/made her cartoony type images of those particular themes big enough to be screensavers for her phone. I know, it’s cheesy, but I had little to work with and sometimes the thought counts more than the material. The funnest part was playing the guessing game with her once they were ready. I would give her a clue and she would guess. She got the first prize right after the third clue, but gave up on the second one. It was terribly fun! So much, in fact that I didn’t hit the pavement’ till nearly 6 that evening! So much for riding all day. I wouldn’t take it back, though. I was smiling and cracking up all day, even when I finally did go riding. That’s the nice thing about riding. Sometimes, you make memories. Sometimes, you reflect on them.Tuesday, September 01, 2009 (21:38:46)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=449.htmlI go to Cincy a lot to hear this band play. So, for those of you that are curious. Here's they are on Fox 19. www.fox19.com/global/C...Format=flvSunday, August 30, 2009 (21:05:52)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=448.htmlOr, more appropriately, my outlook on life. I don’t want to be presumptuous and say I’m some sorta hard core biker. I’ve been called that before, but professing it kinda makes it not true. I’ll just let you be the judge. I also can’t speak for all people that would fit that label/stereotype. I can only speak for myself and my close friends I’ve had this discussion with. I’ll venture to say that most folks that enjoy riding like I do share similar outlooks. I’ve been riding for 20 years. On average, I ride 12,000 miles a year and have for the past five or six years. My experiences have been both awesome and down right bad. I’ve ridden loads of different motorcycles from exotic to plain jane. I’ve ridden on all kinds of roads, both paved and dirt with and without smooth surfaces. I’ve also ridden in the most extreme weather, including snow and torrential rain. I’ve had days/weeks/months where I would have nary an issue with my ride and I’ve been broken down in the middle of North Dakota in the pouring rain. There’s two types of riders, those that have gone down and those that will. I’ve been down for the silliest of reasons. I’ve also kept a motorcycle upright in the most demanding of circumstances. I’ve nearly lost a leg, have had brushes with death, and have seen acquaintances and buddies suffer fates much worse. When the good times are good, they’re really good and when they ain’t so good, they’re still alright. Let me translate that for you. I appreciate life. Everyday I can wake up, see, and walk are good days. The fact that I can function at the high level of intelligence us humans have come to take for granted is just a plus. The icing on the cake is that I have friends and family that love me and make me happy. There’s just so much the average person takes for granted that I appreciate. I’m not saying we shouldn’t work to have all that we want. It’s just that most folks don’t stop working so very hard long enough to appreciate what they have. There’s an old saying us motorsickle riders use. Quote: Any day above ground is a good day! And it’s as simple as that.Friday, August 28, 2009 (19:24:00)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=447.htmlI’ve been writing a blog now for over three years. I still remember my first post, titled “Old Prude Citations”. It was a lighthearted jab at people that took life too seriously. It was well received among my closest friends. They were all bikers, all two or three of them. Yes believe it or not, my social circle was once very small. It wasn’t well received by my ex-wife, though. She thought it was a dumb idea and said I was stupid. It’s funny how that marriage didn’t work out, huh? I kept plugging away. I would write mostly about motorcycles and riding. From time to time, I would write about photography and post pictures of some the eye-candy work I was doing for various magazines. That’s about all I had going for me at the time. I owned a full-service portrait and wedding studio and did some motorcycle photography as well as swimwear and eye-candy (girls in lingerie and less). I also did photojournalism and journalistic writing for some motorcycle magazines. Working for other people wasn’t quite giving me what I wanted out of writing and photography, so I started BrainBucketMag.com. Over time, it has grown. We average around 20,000 readers viewing nearly 80,000 pages per month. BrainBucketMag.com has over 54,000 pages and 1,500 inbound links indexed in Yahoo. Google considers Brain Bucket an authority site (a site shown with sublistings) not only for a domain search, but a publication name search. That’s a buncha techie stuff that’s good info for our potential advertisers. It’s also for you folks that want some sorta quantification. It’s cool and I take pride in it. However, the real pride comes from some of the personal emails I get and meeting people that are fans. I remember the first time I met someone outside of my circle of friends that actually read Brain Bucket. I was in Daytona for Biketoberfest 2007. A site hired us to promote the events and wanted a model on location for a poster signing. I was also in attendance just to make sure everything went fine. A large group walked up to our booth, met the model, got some signed posters, and took some pictures with her. I was getting very little attention as I’m sure you could imagine. Seriously, like I’m gonna be able to compete with a hot chick at a motorcycle rally! So when someone turned to me and asked me what I was all about, I was surprised to say the least. I told them my name and this person took a step back. They asked if I was Dynamike, the guy who wrote the blog. “Yep, that’s me,” I said as I thought I was about to get punched or something. “Oh my God, ya’ll! It’s Mike!” he exclaimed. His friends turned their backs on the hot chick and walked right over to me shaking my hand and patting me on the back saying, “We love your blog man! You are so funny!” That felt very good. I knew I was doing something right. It was validation a year and a half in the making. It’s been happening more and more since then and it’s always nice. Sometimes are more memorable than others. One that really sticks with me is when I met Elias Soriano from Nonpoint after a show and he professed to being a fan. I finally decided to start using Facebook a while back. It’s been a great way to connect with some old friends. I wanted my old friends from High School to see what I was up to. I could’ve posted links to my blog posts, but I didn’t wanna come across as a SPAMMER. Instead I would post the entire blog post and tag my closest friends. I started getting people request FB friendship that I had never heard of. One guy said that he read my notes on someone else’s profile and enjoyed them so much he had to send me a friend request. A girlfriend of a friend from High School saw my profile and commented on how I looked like a blast to know and sent me a friend request. And then one of my FB friends sent me a personal email that’s right on par with meeting Elias Soriano and that first fan encounter. I’ll just let you read it for yourself: Quote: So ... I must confess .... after I got off of fb earlier ... I found myself logging right back on. I just had to check your notes out! I have spent the better half of an hour reading and learning a little bit about your world. Your a little different than what I imagined. I have to tell you, after reading your profile notes I find myself smiling. You kept my attention all weekend with your humor, and now I find myself putting my book down so that I could dive into your political, scientific and sometimes biological world .... lol .... It has been very intersting and informative and I cant wait to see which direction you turn next. Thanks for accepting my friend request b/c I have enjoyed it .... most time I have EVER spent on fb .... and probably the longest message Ive ever sent from such a tiny keyboard (cell phone) Hope your having a great night!!!! P. S. Ive never sent a friend request to someone I didnt already know... I may rethink that .... I could be missing out on some really cool people!! Later Tater ]How flattering is that!?! Seriously!?! I imagine I’ll go back to reading this one a few times. Thank you! Thank you all! Thanks for reading, commenting on, and turning your friends on to my ramblings. I am very flattered by all of it. And yes author of this email I quoted, meeting you has been one of the highlights of my weekend! Later TaterWednesday, August 26, 2009 (21:19:05)http://www.brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=446.htmlI love a country folk party. When I used to shoot weddings full-time, I enjoyed the country weddings and the black weddings the most. They may be worlds apart stereotypically, but they both know how to throw down. When Brian presented me with the opportunity to go to a barn party with him and hear G Miles and the Hitmen, I jumped right on it! G Miles and the Hitmen is a Chicago style blues band. This group is a collection of some of the best blues musicians in the Midwest. If you enjoy blues, you will love this band. If you don’t, you need to get a life. We stopped along the way to pick up a guest trumpet player for the night. Pablo got into the car and we exchanged pleasantries. By pleasantries, I mean I shook his hand and he passed me the bottle of wine he was pre-gaming with. I couldn’t let him pre-game alone, so I joined him. Pablo is a piano player of Colombian descent in the US on a student visa. Turns out he plays a mean trumpet as well. He was talking like he wanted to work towards citizenship. He’s just a young musician making his way. He had also recently separated from his girlfriend/fiancé of three years just that week. He had been down on himself all week and was ready to get out. It was fate that he was going out with us. It was fate that brought him to us, us to him. Brian and I have had some great and not so pleasant experiences with women. We’ve learned a lot. We’re both romantics at heart that live by a rule most people are not in touch with. You have to love and respect yourself first. You have to have an awesome life without a companion to be able to share one with a companion. A lover is not someone that you depend on for a life rather someone you share your life with. Pablo needed to get back in touch with how awesome he is and that he will do just fine without her. Yes, it will sting for a while. But, in the end we are all better for every interaction we have. Each person we meet teaches us something about ourselves and others. The healing begins when we see those lessons and hold the fond memories dear. On to happy stuff! We arrived at the farm just as we finished the bottle. We did manage to scare Brian a couple of times passing it back and forth, especially as we passed through some podunk town’s main street. Well, it wasn’t the passing it that was the issue as much as the displaying it for everyone outside the car to see. Brian parked the car and we headed up to the barn to survey the landscape. We met the owner of the farm and the bride (yes, I was a wedding crasher!) who tell us that there was plenty of beer and food and we should help ourselves. I immediately began familiarizing myself with the locations of said kegs. Food? Not so much. I found the keg labeled Heineken memorized its location. That keg saw a lot of me that night. I’m not sure what was in the others. They were tasty, but I had my heart set on the German brew. I was just starting to enjoy my first beer, when Donnie White, the drummer, showed up and asked me for his help unloading gear. These guys were the reason I was getting free beer. I couldn’t say no. I turned to the table behind me and charged the middle aged couple and young lady drinking together with watching my beer. Once I was finished unloading, I went back to said table to retrieve my frothy beverage. That beer musta been sleeping around, ‘cause when I got back it had multiplied. I coulda swore when I left that table there were four beers there, one for each of the three people watching my drink and the one I left. Now, there were no less than six beers, a glass of wine, and a glass of champagne at the table. The middle aged couple was gone, leaving only the young lady with the drinks. After calling her a lush, I snatched mine up. I told her I was scared she was going to drink mine too! She giggled and insisted that the other drinks were her mom’s, uncle’s, and some of their friends. Turns out that middle aged couple were brother and sister and not a couple after all. Or where they? We were in the country afterall. Just because a cute girl is drinking with her parents doesn’t mean she’s drinking age, or even 18 for that matter. In the country, drinking age is arbitrary. This girl was definitely not 21 and I question whether or not she could vote. I had to point that out to Pablo when he made a comment about the work I was doing on that cute girl. I also had to point out to him that we were in the middle of nowhere, there was a minister present, and those people had guns! Young grasshopper had much to learn. I also had to let him know that not all interactions are about the score. Sometimes, you just want to be social with people with no end goal in mind. But, I’ve written about that before and really don’t want to repeat myself. The band fired up for the first set. I was enjoying the suds and the music. I went out on the back deck and noticed an old timer with a cane and an HD cap. We started talking about old motorcycles and the joys of riding. It was like I was reconnected with an old friend. We shared a kindred spirit that posers like Clay have no clue about. I would return to share many good memories with him throughout the night. I walked back around to the stage/dance floor and saw the bride out on the floor motioning for some of her friends to join her. I couldn’t bear to watch that woman beg on her day. I went right over, picked up her friends and drug them out to the dance floor. She asked for more and I obliged. Before you know I was grabbing all kinds of folks to dance with her. I became the party starter. Then it was my turn. I was ready to shake a leg. I returned to the floor to dance with the folks I just put there. Only thing is that I was disappointed. Except for maybe to other guys, it was all women dancing. We were outnumbered at least 9:1. Now, I know what you’re saying, “But Mike, that’s great odds!” And I would agree. However, they were all married. I was disappointed that these women’s husbands were too cool to dance with them. Guys, women like to dance. You’re gonna feel stupid and maybe even look stupid, but do it. I’ve covered this before as well, so I won’t again. Just do it already!!! The beer I was drinking was starting to catch up to me. I broke the seal. Turns out I broke it tragically early. I was on my way back up to the dance floor when I passed by Brian and Pablo chatting with a few of my new dance partners. There was this one woman who claimed she was 37, but she musta bee lying. I don’t know why she would, though. Once you’re older than 21, there’s really no reason to claim to be older than you are. This woman was fine and didn’t look a day older than 28. She was so pretty that I think it blinded Pablo. He musta missed that gigantic rock on her left ring finger. That thing was so big I don’t see how her left arm was not noticeably longer than her right. He didn’t make sure she wasn’t married when he hit on her, but he didn’t forget my lesson about making sure they were old enough. “So, how old are you?” he asked after a little small talk. That’s when Brian shoved the ice in his face and said, “Doesn’t matter, bro!” Young grasshopper had much to learn. The band fired back up and I was back on the floor, after filling my cup that is. Brian said he never saw me with an empty cup even though it was up to my mouth quite a bit. One time he even got excited that I was bringing him a beer as I was walking toward the stage carrying two until he realized I was just doublefisting! Then I noticed her, a flaxen haired beauty with a turquoise sweater. Brian spoke of her earlier, but I underestimated the truth of her fairness. He took a solo and walked off stage to pay her some special attention. I knew what my new task was. He went back up to the stage and she remained in her seat. I moseyed on over and took out to the floor. She was lying when she said she couldn’t dance. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that this was going to be some of the hardest wingman action I’ve ever had to play. This girl was gorgeous! And she could grind! I wasn’t eager to pass her off. But, I owed Brian. You see, hot chicks are a dime a dozen. Good friends are worth their weight in gold. But a friend like Brian is priceless. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not devaluing women. I just don’t sweat their hotness. But when one comes along that’s hot, smart, and can be a friend, well, then you have hit the lottery! “So what do you think of the band? They rock, huh?” I asked as we danced. “Hell yeah! And that sax player is awesome!” She exclaimed as I knew I had an in. “You should hang out with us after the show! He’s awesome guy. Been my best friend for 22 years!” This went on for a while until the band started playing Proud Mary and we had to sing along. That was their last song. The crowd dispersed and flaxen haired beauty disappeared into the night. I tried. I turned toward the stage preparing myself to help Donnie and was greeted by my old friend. The old-timer had just bought a couple of the band’s CD’s and refused to let them sign them until I had first. What a way to end the night!Tuesday, August 25, 2009 (22:31:00)