The Pajama Game

Sorry for the delay in posting kiddies, but a lot of shit is going down in my world and at some point I'll pull back the curtain and let you all in on it, but for now let's talk about chicks man (chicks man).

I've started this post three times now and I keep getting side-tracked. Bright Eyes came on the iPod, so I had to go out and download the new Conor Oberst release, which took an hour because it's not officially released yet. Then, there's a Woot Off going on, so I have to check that site every 10 minutes, just in case some crazy electronic device comes on that will allow me to blog through osmosis while I sleep. I wish my dreams could be automatically blogged, that would be trippy, but only interesting to me. One of the worst conversations you can be involved in, is when someone says "I had this dream..." Unless you are Martin Luther King Jr., I could give two shits about your dream, and even then not so much. You know you are in for a good 20 minutes of nodding and smiling, while that little voice inside your head gets consumed with more and more loathing as each syllable passes through their lips.

Dreamer: I had this dream the other night.
My Inner Voice: Oh fuck me, here we go.
Dreamer: I was naked at work.
My Inner Voice: Wow, that's a new one. Next, you're going to say you were falling.
Dreamer: Then, for some reason I started falling into a vat of pudding.
My Inner Voice: My dream is that I shove my dick your mouth, so that you shut the fuck up!
Dreamer: When I got out I was naked at work again.
My Inner Voice: I really want to kick you in the baby-maker right now.
Dreamer: Then I started getting chased by this lady in Human Resources.
My Inner Voice: Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!

Wow, my inner voice sure has some anger management issues, but those can be addressed later. Right now I need to center my thoughts and get back to the post. Mr. Myogi say, "Erik-san you stay focus. Man who catch fly with chopstick accomplish anything." While I've never caught a fly with a chopstick, I have caught my chopstick in a fly. When I was five I had these red pajamas with a zipper that went from the ankle to the neck. Because I do everything in a hurry I would often catch the frank-n-beans in the mix, but thankfully I'm not a bleeder. I should have sued the pajama manufacturer, so they would have had to put a warning label on them.

Warning! External genitalia may become lodged in zipper. Please use caution when zippering through the danger zone.

¡Advertencia! Los órganos genitales externos pueden alojarse en cremallera. Tenga cuidado por favor al zippering con la zona peligrosa.

Holy shit! I was looking for a picture of red footed pajamas and I came across these beauties. As if the flames from head to toe weren't bitchin' enough, the little dog throws us a peace sign as if to say "ladies I am single and ready to mingle." I wonder if these come in an adult XL? Talk about instant panty droppers. I am so going to be dreaming about showing up at work in these bad boys tonight. (Note to self : Add flaming footed PJ's to x-mas list)

Back in the day Amy and I went to see Marc Price AKA "Skippy" from Family Ties at a comedy club. The deal was that you paid $4 to get in if you were wearing pajamas, $8 if you weren't. The bouncer was all serious about his job that night, because he gave Amy shit for wearing this terrycloth peach outfit. WTF? If you know Amy, then you can be assured that she wouldn't be caught dead in public dressed all in peach. To his defense it was the mid-'90's in Tennessee, which was like the mid-'80's in civilized parts of the country, so I can see how he became confused and thought that her peach outfit could be worn as business casual attire. If only she had the flaming footed jammies that night, she probably would have gotten in for free.

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

Today is officially patio day at the Crawford house. We are having stamped concrete and a three foot wall built out back to give Maggie a place to play, and us a place to drink. It's weird what you get excited about or at least talk about as adults, the weather, home repairs, the price of gas, all of which meant shit to you when you were a kid. Sometimes during these inane conversations I have to actually step back and think to myself, was I actually just going on and on about window treatments for the last 10 minutes? I used to get excited about concerts, chicks and soccer games, now I get excited over cement, wood blinds and a thunderstorm warning.

Speaking of concerts and weather, remember when you had to wait outside overnight at the mall for tickets? I did it three times, twice for Rush and once for the Who. I got front row for Rush and 7th row seats for the Who, so I guess it was worth it. You'd freeze all night outside, and then some rent-a-cop, mall guard would let you inside around 6:00 AM and you'd sit slumped against the record store's chain door, staring at the Orange Julius across the way, until some pimply-faced kid would come in and fire up the Ticket Master computer. Oh, what the kids these days are missing out on. When we hung out for Rush the first time, it snowed and we were the only ones in line until 3:00 AM. I can't think of a single thing I would stay up all night outside in the snow for these days, not even a free steak and a blow job could get me to freeze my ass off. God bless the internet!

Try as I might, I definitely feel my youth slipping away. I don't see as many movies or go to as many concerts as I used to. I've been to Pottery Barn more than I've been to Best Buy this year, and the Wiggles are getting more and more air time in my truck as Radiohead is getting less and less. I can't remember the last time I was up after 1:00 AM and I get winded after a game of Wii Tennis. I wake up in the morning with aches in strange places, then I have to retrace the previous day to try and figure out how I hurt myself. Wow, my hip really hurts, did I stretch it out reaching for the milk on the top shelf of the fridge or was it when leaned forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table? Maybe it was when Amy called my name and I turned around too fast. I can't wait to tell that story at work on Monday when my co-workers ask why I'm limping around. "Yeah, I was walking down the hall and Amy said 'Erik!' and I turned around and bickety-bam, there goes my hip. By the way do you think I should put plantation shutters in the bay window or sea foam drapes?"

Neil Young said "It's better to burn out than to fade away", the Who said "I hope I die before I get old" and I say "Punch me in the junk if I ever utter the words 'fabulous throw pillows.'"

Document This!

My brother turned me onto this site that streams documentary films for free, http://snagfilms.com/ not to be confused with http://stagfilms.com/. I don't read much anymore, so documentaries tend to fill that gap in my psyche that craves useless information about random topics. I'm "that guy" who often interjects into conversations with the line "Oh yeah, I saw a documentary on that."

Like last year there was that guy in Seattle who died from a ruptured colon, while fucking a horse. I actually watched a documentary called Zoo that discussed his association with a secret society of beastiality lovers. They would have parties and then guys would slip off into the barn to do their thing. Overall the documentary sucked, so I wouldn't recommend it, but I now have some useless knowledge about this society that is bouncing around my synapses. I can't do basic algebra anymore, but if you need details on Seattle horse fuckers, I'm your man.

Here is a list of my top 25 of all time. I left out some of the more popular titles, like the Michael Moore, Al Gore and Morgan Spurlock films because I'm sure you already know about those.
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Top 25 (in no particular order)
1. American Movie
2. Sick
3. Be Here to Love Me: A Film About Townes Van Zandt
4. Bukowski: Born Into This
5. DiG!
6. Spellbound
7. Crumb
8. Easy Riders, Raging Bulls
9. Devil's Playground
10. Capturing the Friedmans
11. Be Good, Smile Pretty
12. Hearts of Darkness
13. The Fog of War
14. Word Wars
15. The Devil and Daniel Johnston
16. This Film is Not Yet Rated!
17. Wordplay
18. Stevie
19. The Flaming Lips - The Fearless Freaks
20. Enron - The Smartest Guys in the Room
21. Grizzly Man
22. Murderball
23. Rock School
24. Step Into Liquid
25. Jesus Camp

I'm not sure if all of these documentaries are on the site above, but they are all on Netflix. You can also catch a lot of these on the IFC and Sundance channels. Feed your heads children, feed your heads.

As a side note, and one of total embarassment, the first movie I rented from Netflix was Bring it On back in 2001. WTF? I must have been at home going, I really need to see the Toros and Clovers fight it out in the cheerleading arena, but not quite enough for me to head down to Blockbuster. I'm going to try this new Netflix service, so I can get my Kirsten Dunst fix without leaving the privacy of my own home. Holy shit, I just noticed the second movie I rented was The Virgin Suicides. A double dose of Dunst!!! Somebody please stick a plunger on my chest.

My Only Friend, The End

It's been a few months since I started blogging and I think we are now acquainted well enough that I can talk about this next subject. My funeral. I would like to lay down a few ground rules in black and white so that there are no gray areas when it comes to disposing of my rotting carcas.

Rule #1
No suits or formalwear of any kind. I won't be wearing one, so neither should you. Which brings me to my first dilemma. Should I be viewed in my Steelers or Pens jersey? I'm leaning towards my Pens jersey with a Terrible Towel so that both of my sports loves are addressed. I would like to have a fake mechanical arm raise out of the coffin and wave the towel at random times during the ceremony.

Rule #2
No flowers. Take the money you would spend on flowers and go out to dinner, and at the end of the meal, just mention that this one was on Erik. I don't want anyone to bring anything to the show, your attendance is more than enough. In fact, let's go ahead and have it broadcast over the web, so if you want to come fine, if not you can view it on the website at your convenience.

Rule #3
My immediate family must tell one story about me that contains the word "fuck". No Bible passages, no religious banter, no talk of the afterlife, just profane stories, preferably with a humorous angle. We are trying to put the fun back in funeral here, work with me people.

Rule #4
I want to be cremated. Maybe this should have been rule #1 before the no suits required, no flowers and "fuck" story rules, but I am not going to reformat. Now this is a tricky one, because when you go with cremation, then there are a plethora of options that are presented with regard to what you can do with the ashes. According to eBay 1 pound of weight = just under 1 cubic inch of ash. Say I am around 240 when I go, my relatives will have about 200 cubic inches of ash to work with. This is subject to change, as Amy may have some input, but here is a general guideline for my ash disposal.

1. 50 Cubic Inches to make a necklace for Amy
2. 50 Cubic Inches to make earrings for Maggie
2. 25 Cubic Inches to be sprinkled on Heinz Field
3. 25 Cubic Inches to be baked into brownies and sold outside of a Ravens game. Even after I'm dead I want Baltimore fans to eat me.
4. 25 Cubic Inches to be snorted by Maggie at a party when she is hammered. Who wouldn't want to have that story in their back pocket? "Man, I was so wasted that I puked in the driveway at my grandma's house. Yeah, well one time I was so fucked up that I snorted my Dad's ashes." We have a winner!
5. 25 Cubic Inches to be set aside for random mischief.

Rule #5
All music must be from my collection. These are the only required songs. Welcome to my final playlist, come inside, make yourself comfortable and enjoy!
1. Oingo Boingo - Dead Man's Party - To be played as guests are entering the funeral home.
2. Pearl Jam - Alive - To be played in the middle of the ceremony. When Vedder croons "I'm still alive" the Terrible Towel hand will wave from inside the coffin.
3. You'll Have Time - William Shatner - After some comic relief, this song will remind everyone of their own mortality and bring the festive mood down just a notch. It's a nice transition between the fun songs and the heavier stuff that is up next.
4. Jeff Buckley - The Last Goodbye - This will bring the mood down and set a darker tone, so that the last couple of songs have that extra punch.
5. David Gray - Shine - In case we couldn't get any tears flowing from Buckley, here is another tissue grabber.
6. Journey - Don't Stop Believin' - Just as people are starting to get all pensive, I want to have everyone bust out into one big sing along. (This will include a video montage of photos mixed in with me singing, wearing my Steve Perry mullet wig and rocking a mean air guitar.)
7. Run DMC - It's Tricky - This will be my exit music. It's almost impossible to hear this song and not leave in a good mood.

Rule #6
My obituary must be a mixture of truth and total fabrications. Let's see if you can pick out what is true from what is false.

Frederick William Crawford Jr. (1971 -2037)

Frederick Crawford died of auto-erotic asphyxiation yesterday at the age of 66. He is survived by his daughter, Maggie and his wife, Amy. He was a 1989 graduate of Slippery Rock High School, and a 1993 graduate of Towson University. Mr. Crawford was a lifelong jogger and an avid collector of finger nail clippings. He leaves behind a diverse estate which includes an Executive Costco membership, a kick ass fantasy football team, an assortment of leather pants, a $10 gift card to the Olive Garden and a set of Pittsburgh Steelers wind chimes. The service will be held on Tuesday at 7:00 PM due to the Steelers vs. Browns Monday night game. (That's also part of the rules, I can not be buried on a Steelers game day.)

Rule #7
My headstone, must contain a funny quote. George Carlin always wanted "He was here a minute ago." This isn't entirely an original idea, but I wouldn't mind having something like this:

Finally I am free of this earth
Unbound of its restraints
Carried above the clouds
Kicking back enjoying the view
May I rest in peace
Eternally content.

If you take the first letter of each line and read down you get the idea. The average joe probably wouldn't get it, but those in the know would always smile when they visited me.

There you have it, a quick outline for my final day. I think that it would be memorable and fit my personality pretty well, but if it becomes a big pain in the ass just throw me in a cardboard box and dump me in the river, wearing my Pens jersey of course.

Here Comes the Hurricane

I usually let Amy blag (blog and brag) about our daughter, but every now and then I like to put my spin on her progress. Between walking, talking, playing, and attitude, she has become the perfect storm, and old Captain Erik is having trouble keeping the SS Moo afloat.

Walking
One of her favorite activities is climbing the stairs. She knows that she isn't supposed to go higher than the first four steps, but she'll go right to the top of the fourth stair, look over to make sure I'm watching her, and then put her foot on the fifth stair. Her face is saying "What are you gonna do if I go higher? Carry me back down, oooh big threat I'll just go up again. Bring it on fucker!" They say what comes around goes around, and while she may not have my eyes, she definitely has my lack of respect for authority and need to test boundaries.

Talking
Her vocabulary is growing exponentially. You say apple, she says apple. You say thank you, she says thank you. You say son of a bitch I just burned myself on the fucking skillet, she laughs and says thank you. I know that I need to start watching my language around her, but it's hard to untrain my dirty mouth after 30 years of profanity. I'm pretty sure that she'll be the kid in class that teaches all the other kids the seven dirty words.

As a sidenote, in fourth grade I thought that I invented the term cocksucker. I said it all day at school, hey cocksucker, what a cocksucker, this kickball is a cocksucker. Then I came home and used it at the dinner table to a stunned reaction. My Dad asked me where I'd heard it and I said that I made it up. He informed me that I was not the inventor of the term and that I needed to look it up. I opened the dictionary and found out that cock was a male chicken. It literally meant sucking on a chicken. As a nine year old that wasn't very interesting, so I stopped using the term. That was until I saw Grandma eating some KFC in the yard and I called her a dirty cocksucker.

Playing
Playing for Maggie consists of kicking a soccer ball around the house. Sitting in her play area and messing around with every little puzzle and toy. Using the TV remote to record various programs such as Sex and the City and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Then we have her new love of emptying the entire contents out of the dishwasher, refrigerator and assorted cabinets. I was making dinner last night and I grabbed some chicken out of the fridge and left the door open. She had two rows of bottles lined up on the floor in 12 seconds. She was like Tom Cruise in Cocktail, throwing the ketchup behind her head, spinning the mustard and soy sauce at the same time. I glance over and she stops in her tracks holding the Hershey syrup, grinning like the Cheshire Cat knowing that she had found the Holy Grail of condiments.

Attitude
Finally, we get to attitude. She is selfish, needy, and demands instant gratification at all times, just like her mother. Kidding..honey I kid...you know I don't mean it, I like sex too much to actually say that and mean it. We're still on for tonight right? As if you couldn't tell from the previous stories Maggie is very full of herself, and what's worse is she knows that she runs the show.

On Monday she came up to me on the couch in full Three Stooges mode and jammed her thumb in my eye. She found it hilarious when I started screaming, so she did it again. Apparently, eye-gouging is now the game of choice at the Crawford abode. After I blocked my eyes, she moved on to give me a big ol' fish hook to the nostril. WTF? I start gagging from laughing and when I bend over she slaps me on the neck. I'm getting worked over by a toddler for Christ's sake. Based on her current resume, I think when she grows up she'll either be a wrestler, a dominatrix or a ninja.

It's time for me to change into my Hazmat suit and safety goggles, so that I can pick Maggie up from daycare. All I can say is that she'd better bring her A-game tonight, because I've been working on my sleeper hold and we are going to throw down like Cato Fong and Inspector Clouseau when we get home.

Wanted Man

Being the ultimate American consumer I am always looking for the next bigger and better thing. Here is a list of things that currently reside on my top 5 most wanted list. (Keep in mind these are attainable wants and not genie wishes. No lamp rubbing here, just a few more payments and I can get these out of layaway.)
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1. iPod Touch. A friend of mine just hooked one of these and I am extremely jealous. I wanna iPod touch myself whenever I see it sitting in his office. The problem with the Touch is that when it comes to iPods, size really does matter. 32GB just doesn't cut it, when I currently have over 41GB of audio on my current iPod. Throw in some video and photos and I am way over the limit. C'mon Apple get in the game, I am a guy with small hands and small feet, so you know what that means, I need a big black iPod to feel adequate.

2. Wii Fit. The wife actually wants this a little more than I do, because let's face it, the Wii Fit is kind of a chicky gadget. That being said, my six pack is more like a keg, and I need Google maps to wipe my ass these days, so I could use some motivation in the exercise department. If I get Wii Fit and Wii Tan do you think I could look like this guy by the holidays?



3. Philips Soundbar. I may need to change my underwear after describing this one. Surround sound in one long speaker, a sub, a built in DVD player and an iPod dock. It eliminates 5 speakers, the amplifier, DVD player and iPod connection. If it would go down on me I'd probably marry it. Ever since my brother-in-law, Bruce, got one I don't think he's left the house.

4. Ballpark Burger just released a Krispy Kreme bacon cheeseburger. I'm sure it will get me one step closer to having my first stent procedure, but damn if I don't want to try one of these. I'm a big salty/sweet kind of guy, french fries with a frosty, chocolate covered pretzels, whipped cream and sweaty cleavage are all aces in my book. Maybe if I get the Wii Fit I can justify trying one of these.


5. Matthew McConaughey Acting Class. I've always wanted to take an acting class and I think that I would be more popular in the beach communities and with the younger ladies if I had acting chops like Mr. McConaughey. "Alright, that's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older and they stay the same age."


There you have it my top 5 most wanted list for July 2008. Touch me, fit me, surround me, feed me and teach me. Alright, alright, alright...coool!

Does Anyone Remember Laughter?

As I mentioned in my previous post, TV is pretty much sucking a sweaty taint right now (nice visual huh?). So last night I landed on the train wreck Last Comic Standing and holy shit they should rename this show Worst Comic Standing or No One Laughing. Does NBC really think that this country is made up of a bunch of five year olds? About 90% of this show would only be funny to someone who has never heard a joke before in their entire lives, and even then, not so much.

First, you have the minority comics whose entire act is making fun of their own race's stereo types. The Asian girl (Esther Ku) making fun of being smart or driving badly or mixing up L's and R's, is this really still funny to someone? Ooh look an Indian comic (Papa CJ), here come the outsourcing jokes, ooh look a heavy black woman comic, stand back here come the attitude jokes. I'm not being a comedy snob because I like a good ethnic joke as much as the next guy, but c'mon at least try to not be so blatantly obvious with your material.

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Esther Ku here is a Haiku about how I feel when I watch you perform:

Shut up oh shut up

Shut up oh shut the fuck up!

Shut up shut up, Now!

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Then you get the lowest form of comedy, the bottom of the barrell, the dreaded comedy "team". More than one person on the stage automatically equals not funny, and if the comedy team is made up of twins, then you may as well punch yourself in the crotch twice, because they will undoubtedly be doubly unfunny.

There were a few tolerable comics that made it through to the finals, so there is hope that I might laugh once or twice during the remainder of this series, but watching this show truly only satisfies my masochistic tendencies.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go work on some material for next season.

So I was at a Chicago concert the other night, I know, imagine that a middle-aged white guy at a Chicago concert, go figure, and I was drinking a micro-brew, I know, imagine that a middle-aged white guy drinking a micro-brew, go figure, and this soccer Mom walked by with a huge camel toe and I said "Hey it looks like someone is smuggling a yo-yo into this show".

2009 finalist? Bet on it.

Summertime (TV) Blues

I know we've covered my reality show issues before, but I think it's time we revisit my supreme TV watching loser status. It's been really slim pickins in my "Now Playing" list on Tivo lately. With the writers strike pushing a lot of my favorite summer shows (Dexter, Californication, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia) to the fall, I have been forced to fill my time with some extremely shitty reality shows.

TV has gotten so bad this summer that I actually checked a book out of the library. I'm not talking about a book on tape or CD, but an actual collection of bound pages with chapters and words. Granted I've only read 60 pages in three weeks, but hey I look at it on my coffee table every night and I feel smarter for having it in my presence.

Here are the shows I Tivo'd when I went away on vacation. In other words, these are the shows that I couldn't stand missing even for one week. I need to go all Oedipal and gouge my eyes out now. (I will skip the part about killing my Dad and banging my Mom, not because I'm morally opposed to it, but because I'm really lazy.)

Deadliest Catch
I get all warm and tingly when I hear Mike Rowe say the phrase “300 miles north of Dutch Harbor”. I can almost smell the Behring sea spray mixed with rotting fish and fresh crabs from my cozy couch in Virginia. Too bad Maggie isn't school-aged yet, I would love to help her make a model of the Cornelia Marie complete with Phil Harris in the wheel house smoking a cigarette and drinking a Red Bull.

The Next Food Network Star
This is the poor man’s Top Chef, but it satisfies my need to see people’s culinary dreams destroyed.

Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List
Love her or hate her she is responsible for me saying “Suck it Jesus” about 15 times a day.

Real World
Watching this show for me is like the teenage girl who is a cutter. I know I shouldn’t do it but sometimes you just need to feel some pain regardless of the scars it may leave behind.

Ladette to Lady
This is a BBC show that I somehow got sucked into. It’s like the play Pygmalion, but in reality TV show form. They take very un-lady like Brittish girls and try to make them into a high society snobs. I’m just a sucker for the Brittish accent, especially when the girls get all cheeky and snog at the pub while drinking pints and smoking fags with a bunch of their mates.

Moment of Truth
I can only watch this show with the Tivo clicker in hand, so that I can fast forward through the endless minutes of bullshit between questions. It’s pure voyeuristic masturbation watching these people tell their loved ones how worthless they think they are.

Weeds
This show makes me want to quit my job and grow marijuana everytime I watch it. If only I had the balls to deal drugs instead of creating websites all day. Maybe I should just do drugs and create websites for just part of the day.

Ice Road Truckers
As you already know I have a fondness for whorish BBC chicks, but I also love hardcore Canadian accents on guys with crazy tuques. I think it goes back to my youth when I watched Strange Brew about 400 times. These guys drive big rigs across frozen sheets of ice up in the arctic circle, and while this show has become incredibly old, incredibly fast I still throw it into the mix every week, because TV is just that bad right now.

Intervention
Watching addicts act like total assholes is completely entertaining to me. Personally, I don't need drugs or alcohol to be a complete dick, but hey whatever works. The actual intervention part of the show gets a big blup-blip (That's Tivo speak for fast forward) from me. I always root for the addict to relapse at the end of the show and go back to their self-destructing ways, but more often than not the addict is still sober. Although they crank these things out so fast the show will air on July 7th and they will have been sober since July 2nd.

I think I'm going to go and take a coma now. Wake me in September when ESPN has something to talk about again and the big shows come back to save me from staring at this book on my coffee table.

I Think it was the Fourth of July

Hey, I heard you missed me. I'm back! I brought my pencil. Gimme something to write on. I'm fatter, sun burnt and I have a rocking case of liver cirrhosis, it was like I won the John Daly dream vacation sans teeing off of a tall boy.

No need to revisit my days of fun in the sun, let's get down to the business of the week. This Wednesday I am going to see the horniest band touring today, the incredibly mediocre 70's/80's group, Chicago. My company's marketing team is getting together for one last hurrah before many of us go our separate ways. Nothing says co-worker infused good times like watching drunken old white people playing air trumpet and trying not to break a hip while doing the bump.

In honor of the upcoming dancing to the oldies extravaganza, I've been putting the needle down on some dusty old tunes. As I started humming the familiar ditty Saturday in the Park it hit me what an aweful song this is lyrically. Just for fun let's break it down.

Saturday in the park

I think it was the fourth of july

Saturday in the park

I think it was the fourth of july

It sounds like he is really unsure of where he is, and what day it is, so he has to try and convince himself by muttering the opening lines twice. And you think it was the 4th of July, were you so stoned that you couldn't discern between real and imagined fireworks.

People dancing, people laughing

A man selling ice cream

Singing italian songs

Can you dig it (yes, I can)

And Ive been waiting such a long time

For saturday

Time for some keen observations, better get your notebook out so you won't forget any of these gems. All I have to say is man, those are some great fucking lyrics. When you put in the line "A man selling ice cream" you just blew my mind, then when you added "Singing Italian Songs" it was just perfection. I could actually picture the guy in my mind selling orange sherbet while singing "Arrivaderci Roma". Bob Dylan is rudimental compared to your poetic genius.

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Just a point of clarification though, if you've been waiting such a long time for Saturday, then wouldn't you know if it were the fourth of July or not? Usually when I look forward to something I know the date of the impending event.

Another day in the park
I think it was the fourth of july
Another day in the park
I think it was the fourth of july

Here we go again. You're like Jimmy Two Times in Goodfellas. "I'm gonna go get the papers, get the papers".

People talking, really smiling

A man playing guitar

Singing for us all

Will you help him change the world

Can you dig it (yes, I can)

And Ive been waiting such a long time

For today

Really smiling? Not just sort of Mona Lisa pursing, but really giving the full-on toothy grin. That line has got to make the final version of the song, no two ways about it. Ok, I get it, some hippy dude in the park is jamming tunes, while his brethren play hacky-sack, smoke bowls and reek of patchouli. Not really something I would wait a long time to see, especially back in the early 70's. Please tell me you have a big finish for this song.

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Slow motion riders fly the colors of the day

A bronze man still can tell stories his own way

Listen children all is not lost

Looks like you've heeded the advice of Mr. Leary and "turned on, tuned in and dropped out". I now understand why your lyrics suck, but LSD is not an excuse. Graham Nash went to Stone Henge on acid and comparing his song (Cathedral) to yours, is like comparing Hamlet to Hickory Dickory Dock.

Funny days in the park

Every days the fourth of july

Funny days in the park

Every days the fourth of july

All is not lost

I'm assuming you mean peculiar funny and not ha-ha funny, because a guy selling ice cream and a dude playing guitar aren't all that ha-ha funny, unless they were Emeril Lagasse and Stephen Lynch. Everyday is the not fourth of July unless you subscribe to the notion that everyday is the same when you're retarded. Which reminds me of an old joke: What's better than winning a gold medal at the Special Olympics? Not being retarded. Yes, I know they have a special VIP section in hell reserved for me. Let's get back to the lyrical utopia of Saturday in the Park.

People reaching, people touching

A real celebration

Waiting for us all

If we want it, really want it

Can you dig it (yes, I can)

And Ive been waiting such a long time

For the day

I know when I celebrate I always make sure to do a lot of reaching, but not so much touching. I did some celebratory touching a few years ago and it turned into this hassle involving lawyers, community service and registering on some sort of list. Reaching and juggling, that’s how I celebrate these days. If you see me with some chainsaws, bowling pins and machetes with outstretched arms you can be sure that I am in full on party boy mode.

I intended to write a detailed reflection of my holiday week, but dissecting Chicago lyrics just seemed like more fun. Now if I can only figure out what 25 or 6 to 4 means by Wednesday. Google here I come!

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