BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

There is an old adage, which basically states: If you give someone enough rope, they will hang themselves.

This is a pretty good deal. It keeps your hands clean and effectively rids you of the annoyances associated with getting a suitable hood for the person, finding a sturdy tree, and even borrowing a horse if you don’t happen to have one.

Yesterday, I posted a blog about my wonderful publicist. How he, of his own volition, brought me a “care package” of some of my favorite comfort foods because he knows I am on a deadline.

Over the past few days, after me trying to be the good brother and set up come creature comforts for Morrison and Madden later this year– behind the scenes, mind you– Madden took it upon herself to make these things public. Of course, in doing so, I became the whipping boy (not that this is particularly unusual, but I’d grown accustomed to not being flogged in public since it hadn’t happened in a while. Guess I just got complacent…My bad.)

At any rate, today, Madden has once again seen fit to post not ONE, but TWO blogs tossing sour grapes in my direction. Why? Because my publicist did something nice for me, and I thanked him and sang his praises in my blog .

Hence, give someone enough rope, they’ll hang themselves. Madden has just proven out her “Divaness” by being jealous and going on and on about it…

Poor Bird Lady… I guess all those feathers have finally gotten to her.

More to come…

Murv

PS. For those of you who might not know this– These tit for tat blogs between Dorothy, Kristin, and me are all in fun. We actually had someone think we were serious some time ago, and I don’t want that happening again. We are all incredibly good friends, and we are merely picking at one another for fun.

With the sound of a Basset Hound having its tail pulled really hard.

Okay, not literally. Please allow me to explain…

You see, I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Even if you put a bead of silicone sealant around the top then slap the lid on. It’s just not one of my talents. I will find a way to spill that bucket full of tune all over the ground within the first two notes of any song.

Of course, this does not keep me from appreciating music, listening to music, and yes, even singing. In the shower. In the car. When listening to the radio at home… Or, even if I just feel like breaking into song. It’s one of those things. We all do it at one time or another. The mood strikes us and out come the notes, off-key, on-key, howling, squeaking, rasping, whatever. It’s just a fact of life.

So… I spent this past weekend in Newark, Ohio at Violet Flame Gifts with Dorothy Morrison, doing that booksigning thing, workshops, etc. Heather (the owner) runs a great shop and really takes care of folks. We were coffeed, fed, pampered, and otherwise treated like royalty. That is the way of things at VFG, and I will go back there every chance I get. This year, Kim and Allen even took me to the John Glenn Museum which was a blast. Even with the whole starter on the van thing (another story entirely)… Anyway, there I go digressing again. The point of this blog is that on the last night of the event, that being Saturday, Heather throws a bash complete with a live band. The band, as always, is The Barstool Prophets— a couple of guys with barstools, guitars, and a ton of talent. And, as usual, they insisted that I come up and sing with them.

Therefore, I suppose this is my public apology to those in attendance who were forced to listen to me bellow off-key through “Turn The Page“, “The Perfect Country and Western Song“, and even an accappella rendition of “The Ballad of Serenity“.

Rumor has it there are pictures out there, complete with some of my friends up there singing with me. Some of the evidence is apparently even on Myspace. I guess I’ll have to go look.

More to come…

Murv