Ode To Andy Rooney
Ode to Andy Rooney
This one’s dedicated to Shasslock, my rite-aid. Hey,
bands have band-aids, why can’t writers?
“Did you ever wonder why”, always commenced the little tid bits of insight from such an unsightly old man. (I always wished someone would Flo-Bee his eye brows.) At first, I was provoked into thought by what seemed to be wise words and ponders. But gradually, I got older, wiser, and he got more diluted and bitchy. He rattled on about things that he felt didn’t make sense; which could fill volumes, believe me! But instead of honoring him by picking apart his every notion, I’d rather do a Rooney-ish rant of my own on the nonsensical occurrences in my life for ’08. So, without further adieu, and with no apparent warrant, here goes…....
You may have read of my not-so-private experience with a
lady on the other end of a 1-900 line. It was published by
Neworleansmusicians.net, which consequently, is the only entity in a tri-state area that will agree to publish any of my works. I was left home alone to my vices, and a bout of “stiffness” lead me to seek out some aural relief. And as it turned out, Candy, the assumedly delicious figure on the other end of the phone, was pushing 300 pounds and aspiring to be a breeder. Yes, ’08 was the year the sexy phone escort bubble burst for me.
Yet another little intellectual stepping stone for me in
’08 was my run in with a dubious spammer (are there any other types?). I received word from an alleged British small business owner that my services were needed. Apparently, he was doing so well financially that he wanted to expand to the U.S. and chose ME as his American partner! I quickly explained to him that I was
enthralled, but I had to decline. I told him how dishonest I was, how I stole windshield wipers from a little old lady’s car (and I don’t even own a car). I stressed that I didn’t want to tarnish his obviously stellar reputation. He countered with the fact that I could effectively turn my life around if I would open this bank account and complete “legitimate transactions” for him. I responded by thanking him and God for this incredible opportunity, and explained how it came just in time to help me pay for my terminally ill (and non-existent) daughter’s expensive blood transfusions. . . And that mother f*#%er STILL tried to scam me!! Shots go out to the scum on the web these days.
Yes, the internet became evil to me in ’08.
Next on my list of bow tie wonder why’s is Bob Odom. Yes, Bob Odom the Commissioner of Agriculture. You might recognize his name from stickers on gas pumps. I found myself in Metairie one day pumping gas during rush hour. I put the little pump kick stand in place and walked away to smoke a cigarette. After I finished smoking, I began walking back to the car. I heard the distinct sound of a water fall as I neared. I found the pump, still in the gas hole, spewing gas everywhere. I shut it off and went to tell the cashier. She said she knew it spilled over, but declined
to inform me of such a significant fact. Long story short, I write Commissioner Bob about my experience. Three months later I get a letter saying they checked the pump’s calibration and it was accurate… ACCURATELY SPEWING GAS EVERYWHERE!
About a month later I read where a man spilled gas on himself from a faulty pump and went on to collect a six figure settlement (see also: insult to injury).
I could go on but, in the interest of my liver, I do
believe it’s High Life time here at the Oval Office. I thought that such a humorous, reflective contribution deserved some degree of commercial acceptance in the form of traditional sponsorship. But I could find no company to agree to purchase said sponsorship, or even acknowledge me as a writer. So I inserted my own. “On
behalf of all you cutters out there, we here at N.O.M. would like to thank Treet Razors for years of service. A special thanks also goes out to the makers of cinder blocks. Without them, the mob would be lost. And finally, much love to the TV show ‘Cold Case Files’. For what criminal can feel confident without watching a few episodes of that class-in-session format?” And so kiddies, with that I do believe I will duck off, into the sauce, in excess at all costs. This is Lingo Starr from Neworleansmusicians.net saying, “Did you ever wonder why”?
Myspace.com/lingostarr
Myspace.com/neworleansbands
This one’s dedicated to Shasslock, my rite-aid. Hey,
bands have band-aids, why can’t writers?
“Did you ever wonder why”, always commenced the little tid bits of insight from such an unsightly old man. (I always wished someone would Flo-Bee his eye brows.) At first, I was provoked into thought by what seemed to be wise words and ponders. But gradually, I got older, wiser, and he got more diluted and bitchy. He rattled on about things that he felt didn’t make sense; which could fill volumes, believe me! But instead of honoring him by picking apart his every notion, I’d rather do a Rooney-ish rant of my own on the nonsensical occurrences in my life for ’08. So, without further adieu, and with no apparent warrant, here goes…....
You may have read of my not-so-private experience with a
lady on the other end of a 1-900 line. It was published by
Neworleansmusicians.net, which consequently, is the only entity in a tri-state area that will agree to publish any of my works. I was left home alone to my vices, and a bout of “stiffness” lead me to seek out some aural relief. And as it turned out, Candy, the assumedly delicious figure on the other end of the phone, was pushing 300 pounds and aspiring to be a breeder. Yes, ’08 was the year the sexy phone escort bubble burst for me.
Yet another little intellectual stepping stone for me in
’08 was my run in with a dubious spammer (are there any other types?). I received word from an alleged British small business owner that my services were needed. Apparently, he was doing so well financially that he wanted to expand to the U.S. and chose ME as his American partner! I quickly explained to him that I was
enthralled, but I had to decline. I told him how dishonest I was, how I stole windshield wipers from a little old lady’s car (and I don’t even own a car). I stressed that I didn’t want to tarnish his obviously stellar reputation. He countered with the fact that I could effectively turn my life around if I would open this bank account and complete “legitimate transactions” for him. I responded by thanking him and God for this incredible opportunity, and explained how it came just in time to help me pay for my terminally ill (and non-existent) daughter’s expensive blood transfusions. . . And that mother f*#%er STILL tried to scam me!! Shots go out to the scum on the web these days.
Yes, the internet became evil to me in ’08.
Next on my list of bow tie wonder why’s is Bob Odom. Yes, Bob Odom the Commissioner of Agriculture. You might recognize his name from stickers on gas pumps. I found myself in Metairie one day pumping gas during rush hour. I put the little pump kick stand in place and walked away to smoke a cigarette. After I finished smoking, I began walking back to the car. I heard the distinct sound of a water fall as I neared. I found the pump, still in the gas hole, spewing gas everywhere. I shut it off and went to tell the cashier. She said she knew it spilled over, but declined
to inform me of such a significant fact. Long story short, I write Commissioner Bob about my experience. Three months later I get a letter saying they checked the pump’s calibration and it was accurate… ACCURATELY SPEWING GAS EVERYWHERE!
About a month later I read where a man spilled gas on himself from a faulty pump and went on to collect a six figure settlement (see also: insult to injury).
I could go on but, in the interest of my liver, I do
believe it’s High Life time here at the Oval Office. I thought that such a humorous, reflective contribution deserved some degree of commercial acceptance in the form of traditional sponsorship. But I could find no company to agree to purchase said sponsorship, or even acknowledge me as a writer. So I inserted my own. “On
behalf of all you cutters out there, we here at N.O.M. would like to thank Treet Razors for years of service. A special thanks also goes out to the makers of cinder blocks. Without them, the mob would be lost. And finally, much love to the TV show ‘Cold Case Files’. For what criminal can feel confident without watching a few episodes of that class-in-session format?” And so kiddies, with that I do believe I will duck off, into the sauce, in excess at all costs. This is Lingo Starr from Neworleansmusicians.net saying, “Did you ever wonder why”?
Myspace.com/lingostarr
Myspace.com/neworleansbands
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