I had been looking forward to the American Music Show all year. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this:

• Friday – listen to Honeybees for couple of songs and Bill Kirchen for a few, but kids grow restless so leave in pursuit of ice cream.
• Ditch foursome and go downtown Saturday as a lonesome. Dark clouds hover.
  
• Friendless and alone, seek reading material to wait out rain. Hit Prairie Archives and their honor system sidewalk sale. Pick out 1997 issue of Smithsonian magazine, put quarter in envelope and push through  mail slot.
• Arrive at Brew Haus. Dogfish 60 Minute still available on tap. Things looking up. Settle into booth and began to peruse magazine; realize that I’d read almost entire issue 12 years earlier.
• Finish pint, exit bar. Heavy mist blankets area; stage area still draped with tarps.
• Run into Brad Elvis. Outdoor show canceled. Handcuffs will play Bar None at 10:30, post-pumpkin time for me. Go home to sulk.
• Return home. Rare night out ruined. Freedom, Independence, Meaning of Life – questioned.

What Do You Think We Are, Communists?

As I mentioned, many people celebrate the Fourth at private parties. That’s what I hear. Although I can’t be sure because we never get invited to parties on the Fourth of July. Never, ever.

We’ve attended parties in and around the Fourth, but even those invitations have dried up. My kids think that the holiday entails driving to a church parking lot along Woodside Road, watching some fireworks, and then heading home to bed. They have no idea of the feasting and celebrating that goes on in honor of our country.

So I implore you, even if you think me a fascist, invite my children to a Fourth of July party next year. Let them hear freedom ring, won’t you?

You Ain’t Bad Lookin’ and You Smell Good From Here*

Tuning in to Fast Eddie on WQNA last Wednesday morning, I heard a feller a-singing these words:

You don’t live in a beautiful place.
And you don’t dress with the best of taste.
And nature didn’t give you such a beautiful face.
But baby, ooooooooeeeeeeee,
You’ve got what it takes.

Wow, I thought, I can’t imagine too many girls listening to this 45 on the bedroom floor while imagining they were the subject of the singer’s highly qualified and brutally frank admiration. As for the woman who inspired such tepid passion, she surely must have developed a series of disorders after "her song" hit the airwaves.

A little research turned up that this song was actually written by Anne Murray, she of Snowbird fame. The sentiments expressed in the lyrics do seem less harsh when directed at a good-hearted lug who never fancied himself the Cary Grant type anyway.

B-b-b-baby, I-i-i I Can’t Wait**

I’m of the belief that if you’re not a few minutes early to an appointment, you are late. Promptness isn’t just a courtesy, it’s a social imperative. Chronic tardiness is a sign of extreme selfishness and/or a complete absence of self-discipline. No, nothing happened. Why do you ask?

Oh wait, something did happen.

Last week I had an appointment to have my teeth cleaned and arrived five minutes before I was due. Thirty-five minutes later I left with unpolished teeth. When I broke the news that I could no longer stick around and read Newsweek in their waiting room, the staff apologized and said that the person scheduled before me was 20 minutes late.

I now hate that person, whoever it might. Factoring in commute time to and from my office, my entire lunch hour was wasted. They owe me, don’t you think they owe me?

I May Even Show ‘Em My Handstand***

A recent story, attached to the Michael Jackson coverage, reminded me of something that really bugged me about American Bandstand. When musical guests would "perform" they would fade the song out at the end, resulting in an awkward moment when the band members wouldn’t know when to stop pretending to play. World-class rock and roll bands were reduced to looking as ridiculous as the Partridge Family.

And that. . . . is that.

*Name the song that this lyric was lifted from.

**Do the same for this lyric.

***What famous performer wrote the American Bandstand theme song?

Both of these bands play on Saturday night of the extra-large, two-day American Music Show that kicks off on Friday.

Victor may not be ready to appreciate the twang-and-wit of the evening’s headliner, but I sure will be. As I’ve written before, Robbie Fulks put on one of the best performances I’ve ever witnessed and that was just him and his guitar. He’ll have his band with him on Saturday and I’ve heard tale that their good, real good.

The plan was to take the family down to the show on Saturday, while I checked out Friday’s lineup sans ninos. I missed Dave Alvin the last time he swung through town and wouldn’t make that mistake again. But it seems Tammy will be working so either I take the kids along or you come forth with an offer of babysitting. You can’t do it, can you?

Also playing Friday is a band called the Honeybees, not featuring Ginger and Mary Ann. I’ve heard them on the Sangamon Valley Roots Revival Radio Hour and they kind of hit in that sweet spot where the Ditty Bops always get me.

It looks to be a stellar weekend of music despite the reported scheduling of a Jimmy Buffet cover band somewhere else downtown. Well, dorks like music too so live and let live, I always say.

Here’s your American Music Show lineup for 2009:

Friday

The Honeybees 5PM

Bill Kirchen and Too Much Fun 6:30PM

Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women 8:00PM

The Damwell Betters 10:00PM

Saturday

The Gordons/Tom Irwin 3PM

The Cynics 5:30PM

The Handcuffs 7:00PM

Robbie Fulks 8:30PM

Hillbilly Casino 10:00PM

So, what’s not to like.

Trifectas for the Delusional

Have you ever noticed how celebrity deaths always happen in threes . . . and twos and sevens and ones and fours. It’s almost as if they’re random events completely unrelated to each other in any logical respect except in the imaginations of the extremely impressionable. God, it’s so eerie.

Potent Quotable

To mother, on his return from a birthday party at Skateland South:

"I’m really good at skating. I just fall down a lot," V. Naumovich

Baseball: It’s Not That Bad

After the skate party we took in a Slider’s game courtesy of the ole company store. Despite promises of all the free hot dogs and drinks they could stomach, the kids were not excited about this outing. After about a half hour at the park, I didn’t think we’d make it to the ceremonial opening pitches.

Once the game started, however, something strange happened. They settled in and took a genuine rooting interest in the goings-on out diamond’s way. Maria, the most ardent pre-game descenter, was particulary interested in learning the rules and strategies of the game as the action unfolded before her. We made it all the way to the seventh inning before being frightened away by lightning.

I’m on record as not being much of a baseball fan but I’ll admit to enjoying the game as well. It helped that they scored many runs, although we missed the two homers while replenishing with food stuffs. A group of visiting high school students – in town helping with a Habitat house and bunking at Little Flower’s gym – kept things lively with their good-natured antics. The race-confused, alcohol-abusing loud mouths behind us, however, sent us seeking tranquility down the opposing baseline.

Viva Le Futbol

I’d be remiss about saying anything good about baseball without tempering them with a few words about soccer. You’re probably not aware, and clearly do not care, but the U.S. men’s national team’s victory over Spain last week was incredibly momentous. If we were baseball fans, this would have been occasion for tipping automobiles or dragging the sofa from the porch to the street and setting it ablaze. (Yes, I’m aware of the rowdy, oft-times murderous behavior of soccer fans. Indulge me my prejudices.)

Trivia Is Not Trivial

Speaking of the ugly side of competitive endeavors, like many of you Facebookies I’m quite involved with the Know It All trivia series. And perhaps like you, I’ll look and see how I’m doing in the standings against my friendly competitors. I admit that if I’m trying to improve my record against a particular player that I’ll stick to those subjects on which I’m strong. What I won’t do is retake a quiz to improve my score.

I’ve noticed on a couple of occasions that someone who I initially bested on a quiz had somehow, days later, wrestled the victory away from me. The only explanation for this I can think of is that, armed with the correct answers, they retook the quiz. I won’t name names (not you, Johann), but the purveyor of this despicable practice should know that I’m on to his monkeyshines.

Speaking of trivia, response to the latest BFS challenge has been dismal. I usually won’t post results until I get at least ten entries, but we may not reach that level of participation this time. This confirms my suspicion that nobody reads blogs anymore and are instead satisfying their trivia jones on Facebook where they are cheating.

Heard About Your Band

When touring bands stop in Springfield, they normally start their performance at or near the eight o’clock hour. A reasonable time for the concert going crowd.

Local bands start much later. An act headlining a three o’clock bar may not take the stage until well after midnight. This scheduling costs them a segment of the music-loving demographic, most notably, me. But even those with the ability to stay awake past 11:00 might be more amenable to an earlier starting time so that they can enjoy the music and then go out and do whatever it is people who aren’t sleeping do at three in the morning.

Tammy went to see a band, the Graduate, last evening and I would have liked to have heard them as well. But I’m wise enough to my ways to realize that after an entire day shuffling the kids around and then an evening at the ballpark, that slumber could not be denied. It’s sad, really.

Speaking of music, I’ll be back later this week to promote the American Music Show, year after year, the finest lineup of music that Springfield has to offer.

How come Jose Feliciano is always screwing around with the melody?

My column last week was my first ever to be syndicated. Although I’m proud of this piece, apologies must be extended to the people of Norwood, Mass, who were assaulted with this.

Were I ambitious, I would take the signature line from this column (Today, I will wear my underpants backwards!) and turn it into a self-empowerment philosophy that would spawn a series of books, a line of merchandise, and a regular spot on Oprah.

I also wrote a feature on some very talented local musicians.

Flying With Pigs

On Wednesday, it seemed conceivable that Tammy and the kids’ trip to Vermont this summer might have to be canceled. Being herded through an airport and then incubated in a plane while deadly viruses abounded seemed a tad risky, given the dire warnings. By Friday, the fear had subsided and I scoffed at the folly of my concern.

The media is partly to blame for fueling my hysteria, but I do think that much of the hubbub was just precaution in the face of the unknown. Had this flu been more plague-like, the quick quarantines and closings may have helped stave of the catastrophic. Of course had news broke last week that the Octamom was again knocked-up, most of us may have never heard of swine flu.

British Fans Would Have Stoned Me By Now

The Shamrocks fell again on Saturday. It’s only matter of time before parents start clamoring for a coaching change. If I’m going to wear the brown hat over our one-and-three record, then I’m going out on my own terms. I may pull a Buttermaker and start bringing a cooler of beer to practice.*

Mark’s game was rained out, denying him the opportunity to flop in the mud and then look around to see if any girls might be impressed by it.

And after a so-so effort during a make-up game on Thursday, Maria turned in a stellar performance on Saturday, scoring a goal and earning an assist in her team’s 3-1 victory. Nothing makes me prouder than to see the look of determination on her face when she goes on the attack.

Smarmy

When those on the left declare that R. Limbaugh is pompous, condescending and a manipulative partisan, I can not argue. But when those same people swear admiration for this smug clown, then their objectivity is clearly suspect. They are, afterall, birds of a feather.

Let’s Kill Saturday Night (after injuring it on Friday)

For you Facebookies, the lineup for the American Music Show is available here. Robbie Fulks and Dave Alvin (formerly of the Blasters and X) headline the two-day weekend affair. I was listening to some tracks by the Cynics and the Handcuffs this afternoon to get a feel for the rest of the lineup. This most definitely will be a kicker of the highest kicking order.

*Name the TV show and the movie referenced in this paragraph.

Qik-n-EZ is advertising a special for lovers of imitation, beer-like beverages. Coors Light is selling 18-packs for $10.99 with, get this, a $7 mail-in rebate offer. Not accounting for the devaluation of the dollar in the time it takes for the rebate check to arrive, that comes to $3.99 per 18-pack or 22 cents per golden bottle. Party on, Rockies fans.

Well, long story short, the drinkers of this particular low-end beer proved to be a particularly thrifty lot and they redeemed their rebates in great numbers, causing great damage to the brewer’s bottom line. But that was a long time ago, so why not try it again during an economic downturn when people are doing everything possible, short of not buying beer, to save money.

The First Church of the Prescription and Over-Prized Sundries

When the Walgreen’s on Monroe relocated across the street to a new building, I felt that their previous home was destined to remain abandoned. The building is too big for a cellular service center or a nail salon. Even most restaurants, of the casual variety, don’t require that much space, except for maybe those buffet operations. A dollar store? Perhaps, but that retail model seems to have grown stagnant.

I suppose that religion, as beer, does fare well in times of economic hardship.

I Called This One

You’ve probably all seen the video of Susan Boyle, the unassuming contestant on Britain’s Got Talent who wowed the audience with a beautiful rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables.

I am not an American Idol fan, in fact, I’m a detractor. I’ve seen enough of it to be disgusted with all of the caterwauling, melisma-izing, and general "look-at-me" vocalization that pervades that stage. I’ve said, on more than one occasion, that if a contestant would come out and perform a song from Les Miz – with even half of the grace, beauty and humility with which Frances Ruffelle brought to her singing in the role of Eponine – then that person would shame the competition. She probably wouldn’t win, I conceded, but she would reveal how fraudulent that show is as a showcase of talent.

I simply can’t tolerate the superficiality of it all.

Neither of these women is Susan Boyle.

I Am Un Chien Andalusia

You’re unlikely to find Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV (aka Black Francis, Frank Black) prostituting himself to the American Idol demographic (see: Tarantino, Quentin), but I did find him and the Pixies in the Wii store. Victor and I can now rock to Debaser and Monkey Gone to Heaven on Guitar Hero.

I Was Published in California

Nothing new to plug this week, but my recent story on homebrewers was published in the Ridgecrest, California newspaper. Finally, the people of the Mojave can read my stuff. How fortunate for them.

Four Leaves Win! Four Leaves Win!

The Shamrocks netted their first goals and posted their first victory of the season, despite being without several key players, a feat that can only be attributed to deft coaching. Tessie continues to improve and Victor was a bulldog in pursuit of the ball, especially late in the game when the Shamrocks were protecting a 3 to 2 lead. He was sweating so much that by game’s end he looked as if he’d been doused by a Gator Ade bucket.

Mark may never develop the soccer skills of David Beckham, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see Posh Spice on his arm at kindergarten graduation.

Living to Eat Another Day

After the Shamrock’s big win, a couple of the families retired to D’Arcy’s for post-game sustenance. Maria, Tessie, Victor and I joined them. Of course, you can’t go to the Pint and not order a ’shoe, but for better or worse, it’s gotten to the point where I feel guilty about it. It weighs upon my conscience almost as heavily as the calories weigh upon my gut. I ended up skipping dinner last night as penance, but know that someday, I will sin again.

So why not head on down to Recycled Records where WQNA will be broadcasting live and I believe there’ll also be live music to go along with special releases by some of your favorite artist. I suppose you could mark the occasion by going to Best Buy or logging on to iTunes, but that’s not really keeping with the spirit, now is it?

I plan on taking Victor downtown after our soccer game on Saturday. Although I’ve loaded up his MP3 player with music, I’ve yet to buy him his first, very own rock and roll album. This will be a great opportunity to do just that, and hopefully, when he gets on Facebook in 30 years, he’ll remember the name of that album when he’s taking one of those "get to know me" surveys.

For some, it’s scaling a mountain summit; for others it’s kicking heroine. As for me, I conquered one of my life’s goals by completing a Sunday New York Times Crossword Puzzle. I’ve come close many times, even completing it once, only to discover an error. But this time, I was perfect. Granted, it was fairly easy for a Sunday puzzle. There was only one word I’d never heard of (Ypres – a city in Belgium), and the theme was pretty straight-forward. But none of this distracts from my feeling of triumph. Does this make me a nerd?

As Sure as the Moss Grows in Killarney

Enjoy the warm weather while you can. Next Saturday is the St. Pat’s Day parade, an event that annually lures  cold fronts down from Canada and sends temperatures plummeting. We always have temps in the 50s and 60s during the week leading up to the parade, only to have them pulled out from under us by the time we take our place on the 5^th Street curb. So predictable is this phenomena that my dad is making a batch of chilli next Saturday, a dish he only makes in chilly weather.

Lights That Flash in the Evening

The weather outside will be inconsequential after the parade, as Justin Townes Earle (Steve’s boy) and Jason Ringenberg take the stage at the Hoogland as part of the Bedrock 66 concert series. You may be familiar with Ringenberg from his Jason and the Scorchers days. I’m less familiar with Earle, but I’ve been listening to songs on his MySpace page and he does a mandolin-accompanied cover of the Replacement’s “I Can’t Hardly Wait,” of which I highly approve.

Speaking of hot shows at the Hoogland, Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles released their first single and two non-album tracks as an EP on iTunes last week. The album will be released later this month. It’s more indie-rockier than previous cuts. Their supporting tour hasn’t been announced yet, but I’ll post when they get near to thee.

A Plea of Redemption/A Call for Justice

Last week I was rightly taken to task by Yellowdog for being part of a team that purchased mulligans* at a trivia contest. I defended myself by stating, correctly mind you, that it simply isn’t possible to win without them if they are offered. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel dirty about it.

Mulligans, even more than vague or inaccurate questions/answers, are threatening the sport that I love. Organizers simply must find another way of raising additional funds without sullying the sanctity of the contest. I may have to resort to the most radical form of protest against social ill currently available to us. That’s right, I’m starting a Facebook group: Citizens For the Purity of Trivia Nights. Join the fight, won’t you.

Krauthammer

While I remain liberal on many social issues, this is why my fiscality tends to be conservativy.**

I Am So Not Unconflicted Over Jennifer Aniston

I’ve not been a Jennifer Aniston fan. Most of this stems from her association with the show, Friends, which I abhorred for its one-note characters, base sexual innuendo and the gross cliche-ing of the word "so." She also ended up on the wrong side of a tiff with Angelina. I am nothing if not loyal to Angelina.

Yet my Aniston aversion has softened as of late. She appeared in two movies that I really like, Office Space and The Good Girl, and although she wasn’t really the reason I like those movies, she did bring something to her roles.

The other reason I’ve come to admire her more is because she is popping up quite frequently in magazines and on Web sites and, quite frankly, she looks amazing. The problem is, that seems to be the entire point of her celebrity at this point.

I don’t recall accolades for any recent performances, but the press is relentless in telling us how incredible she looks. There’s that, and her courage in the face of being perhaps the most celebrated female cuckold of all time.

It’s pretty amazing how her publicist has been able to keep her on the A list and the covers of supermarket tabloids.

Saturday Chore Watch

Hats off to my kids for picking up twigs and pieces of bark from the yard and putting them in a yard waste bag. Then pouring the bag into the wagon. Then dumping the wagon into the yard. Thanks for the effort.***

*For those not familiar with this practice, teams are allowed to purchase a set number of mulligans (usually ten) which are used in lieu of correct answers to win points on difficult questions. As I posted on Facebook: "they’re bullcrap. Imagine facing fourth and long on your on 25 and being able to buy yourself a first down. Or if your worst free-throw shooter gets fouled in the waning seconds of the game and you can decide to just purchase the winning buckets. Who could be proud of that. It’s a g-d travesty. Pure, unadulterated greed and it’s ruining trivia nights across the country."****

**Our previous administration wasn’t good at this either, so offering up their record as a defense for the current is no defense.

***Victor did go on to put in a good day’s work and earned five points towards the 30 needed for a new DS game.

****You know you’re important when you can quote yourself.

Well, it looks as if I didn’t win Best Columnist in the SJ-R’s Reader’s Choice Awards. When my last column inspired one reader to leave an online comment, I thought I might be able to ride that wave of popularity all the way to the award, but apparently I fell a little short. Congratulations to Bernie Schoenburg, Dave Bakke and Jim Ruppert for narrowly edging me out in what had to have been a close vote. Although it’s entirely possible that I didn’t receive a sigle vote, I prefer to preserve my esteem in delusion.

Uncle Raymond Pulls a Fast One

When I see pictures of Roland Burris, I’m not immediately filled with contempt and disgust, as I am when I see Blagojevich’s lipless visage. In fact, I sometimes feel a bit of pity for Burris, who has the look of a kindly gent. Yet it’s clear that he’s just another self-serving politician who slithered and connived his way into a position he did not merit. He should go, but some other folks have some explaining to do.

All of those who said the Senate should never seat a Blago appointee, and then let themselves be played into embracing Burris as a man of honor, should come forth and say how honorable they think he is now. They had it right the first time, the Senate leadership did, but instead of sticking to what they knew was the right thing, they gave into prejudices and political perceptions.

An Idiotic Front is Descending from the North

I’m not sure who such matters could be taken up with, but I want the word "stupid" to be added to weather forecasts, as in, "it will be windy, cold and stupid tomorrow and into the weekend." The term will only be allowed in February and March when the cold weather has gotten really annoying, and, stupid.

*Apropos of Nothing

Name the song that this lyric was taken from. Then name the sisters who play in the band from whence this song originated. To the winner: A free, lifetime pass to BFS, should this ever become a subscription-only site.

A Face for Blogging

Every now and again I’ll do a Google image search to find out what someone looks like. Usually it will be someone in the media, either print or radio, whose name and work I come across regularly, but who I have never seen in person.

Anyway, I’ll type in their name and whatever pictures show up, especially if it’s a headshot, I assume that’s them. But recently, in an act of egoism, I did an image search of my own name. And one of the first results is a head shot of my wife’s friend Tara. So, should anyone, say maybe a reader of this blog, be curious as to what I look like, they very might well get the impression that I try to pass as a woman.

Your Phone’s Off the Hook, But You’re Not

Last week I happened to look in while the kids were watching one of their kids shows. "Wow," I thought to myself, "that Superintendent Spellman character looks a lot like John Nommensen Duchan, whose heart is made of glory and his voice is made of gold."

I knew that Duchan, aka John Doe, had acted in the past. I remembered him from Roadside Prophets, a counter-culture road movie he starred in with Adam Horowitz, whose voice is kind of squeeky and his chains are made of gold. But clearly Doe, one of the coolest guys in rock and roll, wouldn’t be doing a guest spot on the Wizards of Waverly Place, would he?

Well, the closing credits proved me wrong. That was Doe. I suppose there’s no shame in the TV gig, as long as he keeps putting out songs like this:

My column this month is on practicing etiquette in everyday situations. The proper thing for you to do, gentle reader, after carefully considering my words, is to write a comment congratulating the newspaper for publishing such wisdom and suggest that your life has been made the better because of it and perhaps even offer some sort of monetary tribute to the author. It is, the right thing to do.

The blogs remains the same

The tax-evading Obama cabinet appointees were a big deal to Republican bloggers who probably wouldn’t have cared that much had they been McCain appointees, which, if they had been, Democrat bloggers would have had a field day with, but as it stands, under Obama, they really don’t find it worth mentioning. It’s a relief, really, that despite all of the historic change, the blogosphere remains the same.

Commercial Real Estate Mystery Theatre

Since Damon’s closed (I believe it was after the infamous tornadoes), a restaurant only a half block away has transitioned from LaSorella to the Club House and now Kiku. Yet Damon’s former structure remains vacant. Why would that be?

Is the asking price too much? If so, why?

Is there something about the building’s configuaration that makes it unsuitable for other proprietors?

Or is it, as I suspect, HAUNTED BY SOMETHING SCARY OR OTHERWISE OTHERWORLDLY!?!?!?!?!?

Seriously though, I do wonder why it hasn’t been purchased and refigured or demolished.

I told you they would rock

Since I haven’t been blogging much, I haven’t yet mentioned what a totally rocked-out performance Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles gave at the Hoogland last month. It was great to see them play to a packed room and their performance most definitely surpassed expectations. After the show, I pardoned myself from a 15-year self-exile from the Curve Inn* to hang out with the band for a bit. I can’t wait for their triumphant return after their new album comes out.

I think that’s called stage presence.

The incomparable Binky, the irresistible Tammy, and some homeless guy.

Headline comprehension 101

If you saw the headline, "Tiger Wood’s Wife Has a Son," would you be under the impression that said wife gave birth recently? Would you be under the impression that Tiger was the father?

For some reason, when I read this headline I thought the story was going to be that it was discovered that Mrs. Tiger had a son from a previous coupling. Was I wrong in interpreting this way?

Although, biologically speaking, the women do the "having" when it comes to child birth, when speaking of couples who go cooperatively into the reproduction process, however, it’s common to say that "they had a son" when announcing the blessed event. And since it is Tiger who makes the birth newsworthy, then couldn’t the headline have read: "It’s a boy for Tiger Woods." It would have made clear that Tiger is the father and I doubt anyone would be confused as to who did the actual birthing.

Clearly, it’s a matter of perception and perhaps mine is faulty in this instance. But it isn’t on this one, found on Slate:

"Would the mayor of Portland be out of office if he were’nt gay?"

My initial interpretation was that the mayor was out of office, and discrimination may have played a part in his dismissal. That was wrong.

The mayor is still in office, and the author is suggesting that if the mayor were a heterosexual, he would have been thrown out. (With out getting into a debate of the case, the mayor is accused of having had a sexual relationship with an underage male. The author makes the argument that if a heteorsexual male mayor had a relationship with an underage girl, he would have been dumped immediately.)

Obviously, the headline can be read to convey either meaning. So how could have this been written to avoid confusion?

How about: "Was Portland mayor saved by gayness?"

I think that’s clear.

Gimmee an M Gimmee an A Gimmee an R Gimmee a K

There was apparently a high school cheerleading competition in town this weekend. I know this not because I’m perverted, but because at mass at Little Flower last evening there were rows of warmup-suited girls from Catholic high schools north of I-80. We happened to sit behind one such row. This afforded Mark, our youngest, the opportunity to hit on them.

He started shyly, peaking over the pew, shyly smiling when would one would turn around and notice him. But once communion was over, and he hadn’t made sufficient headway, he became more bold: "Hey girls," he announced, "look at this." When they turned, he held back his jacket to reveal his new St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt**, that, as luck should have it, read: "I’m not lucky. I’m good."

This of course caused much laughter, but one girl must have caught his eye because Mark whispered to me that she was going to go on a date with him. After mass ended, Mark made a point of walking up to the girls’ pew and waved goodbye to his chosen one. As we made are way out of the church, he spotted her again in the vestibule. Stopping behind her, Mark tugged on her jacket and again waved when she turned around. He then proceeded on to give an exhibit of karate moves and break dance spins. I’ve seen him do this before, also when trying to showoff for an older girl. They seem to like it.

They say that the nut doesn’t fall too far from the tree, but in Mark’s case, the nut was swept away by a heavy gale and somehow landed under Matthew Mcconaughey’s tree.

Well, that’s it. I’ll write again in another month or so. Keep answering those trivia questions.

*I wasn’t banned or anything, it was mostly due to good taste.

**It could have been worse, believe me.