Ladies and Gentlemen, May I introduce Eli Moore’s Debut Music Video

Pop the champagne!

Number 1 Son, Eli, just today dropped his first music video!

The video is for the song “The Thought”, from his latest lofi EP “Home Skillet”.

Enjoy, and feel free to share the crap out of it!

His music is available at: https://elimoore.bandcamp.com/album/home-skillet-2

Cheers from New Zealand.

 


The Greatest Debut Album of All Time (Conservatively Speaking, as Only a Proud Poppa Can)

Long ago and far away I blogged.  Then I stopped. Now I am back, briefly, to plug Junior’s debut album before this blog goes down the digital gurgler.

Master Eli Moore spent the last three years seeing the world (47 countries at last count), improving his killer piano chops, falling in and out of love, experiencing many experiences, and writing amazing songs about it all.

Which brings us to “Ship Life“.

Honestly, I have not had so much fun since the hogs ate my sister.

Eli wrote all the songs, produced the album, and even designed and wrote the extensive liner notes.

Thankfully, he got his looks from his Singaporean momma, plus her mad art skills. From Poppa hog, he got his word chops.  All together, he’s a total creative bad-ass.

If you happen to be in Auckland, New Zealand on July 21, 2017, drop by Parnell’s Juice Bar for the album’s debut bash.  Eli will autograph a copy and I’ll buy you a beer, if you behave, mate.

In the meanwhile, head over to Junior’s website elimooremusic and check out the Q&A.  Pretty interesting, innit?

And just because I like you, click here… and you can watch the video/clips that Junior produced as part of his fundraising effort.

Plus here’s a great review.

And with that said, it’s time to go walk Kasey in the boggy paddocks, to feed the chooks and check on the sheep, cows, pigs and horses.

Oh, did I forget to mention the bit about retiring to a farm in Northland, New Zealand?

Hmmm. Must be the Old Timers.

Cheers.

P.S. Two years later, Junior just finished a gig with the B.B. King Blues Band on the Koningsdam cruise ship. Wuz great.

Junior on key in the BB’s


OKLAHOMA BUG WARS & LOCUST BOMBS

Cicada green

It’s still summer in New Zealand.

Every now and again, when I have a wander into the primordial jungle out back, I find a locust husk (or shell… what do you call those things they hatch from?).

And every time, my childhood memories come pouring back.

We had a mimosa tree in our front yard on Nebraska Street, and half a dozen in the back.

Every summer, the locusts would try to suck them dry and, boy, would they sing loud and long while slurping up the sap.

It has to be said that, as young rascals, my neighbor Eddie and I were not especially kind to the *locusts.

There was probably nothing wrong with collecting their old husks from the trees, and feeding them to Lady Dog, our beagle.

Cicada_skin

She thought they were better’n pork rinds.

But the other uses we had for locusts were not something that make for particularly sanctifying stories during Lent.

However…

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Lincoln Park Zoo — Better’n Star Wars for Kids in the Sixties

LincolnParkZooHead

Way back when…

My niece in OKC frequently takes her chillens and their cousins to Lincoln Park Zoo.

Even though they were raised on Harry Potter and Disney World, they love going to the zoo.

I think that’s great, but, really, there is no way a zoo trip can be as awesome to them as it was to us in the Sixties.

I was probably nine years old when we made our first “expedition” all the way from Norman to Lincoln Park Zoo.  If memory serves, it was a 9,000 mile journey that took about three months.

I was either with my best friend Steve, or my cousins, or all of them, and possibly a sister or two.

What’s clear is that we were all psyched.

For years, we had been watching *Bob Jenni doing guest spots on Foreman Scotty.

He was always handling snakes and gila monsters and other animals that would kill you dead if you messed up.

We boys were GLUED to the television when Bob was on, quietly rooting for the snake to get lose and maybe bite somebody, just a little bit.

So when we went to the zoo, we were hoping to see some seriously dangerous critters, running wild and eating kids, if we were lucky.

My memories of the zoo are a bit faded, but I remember that the Mothers and Aunties were dead keen on this being an EDUCATIONAL trip, so we were all armed with our Friends of the Zoo Key.

Zoo Key

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NHS Grandstand Boozers And Alvan’s Army

Grandstand boozers

Norman High School’s Grandstand Boozers

I was not much of a joiner at Norman High School.

I played football, and that was about it.

But I was a proud member of two organisations that will go down in infamy: the Grandstand Boozers and Alvan’s Army.

Both involved massive amounts of basketball, testosterone and adult beverages.

Not necessarily in that order.

Read More…

65 Ways to Know You’re Almost 65

.Age Golf Balls - 65 - Halfpricegolfballs.com

  1. You never pull anything out of your pocket without Panadol falling out
  2. You try to use the same *cup all day so that you don’t have to reach up into the cabinet and feel that hot-10-penny-nail-jabbing-into-your-shoulder-socket feeling
  3. You become the ultimate Christian hypocrite when you start wildly boogeying to the Stones, but then you think about what their lyrics actually say, but you just can’t bring yourself to throw ALL the Stones’ records away
  4. You realize there’s nothing better than watching a 2-year-old joyfully chase pigeons in the park
  5. You find one day that you are wearing a shirt, at work, around important people. that has the kind of wide stripes that went out with the Rat Pack
  6. You had at least one “hippyish” item destroyed by a parent who went completely mental in the seventies
  7. You realize that, right now, your kids or nieces and nephews have jobs that are way more important than yours
  8. You much prefer Facebooking about Shih-Tzus and cats than talking about work
  9. You don’t go a day without praying for someone’s intentions, solicited or not
  10. When you wake up in the morning, it is a miracle if you can get to the bathroom without a cramp or stabbing pain or brain aneurysm
  11. When you were in grade school, you smoked dried grapevines well before you smoked stolen cigarettes
  12. When a Facebook friend mentions watching Johnny Carson reruns. for the next 10 minutes, you are youtubing and laughing at the old Carson clips
  13. You went through a phase where you hit something so often while backing up your car that you quit getting small dings fixed, because, really, what was the point
  14. The most analytical you get these days is when you and your adult child watch the latest Star Wars or Avengers movie, and you spend hours looking for plot holes
  15. Every time you see a Facebook mention of a soldier who has died or a child undergoing chemo, you pray for them; you really pray
  16. You get up from your computer and start walking down the hall, and everything looks blurry, so you wonder if you are having a stroke, but then you realize you’re still wearing your computer glasses
  17. When you want to put on old Norman TBT photo on Facebook, and you realize there aren’t many photos of your family because film was really expensive back then
  18. You remember the story about Narcissus, and you wonder whether this ‘selfie’ thing is evidence of society’s main flaw
  19. You hear an old song by the Stones or Hendrix or Led Zep, so you CRANK IT UP, and then you wonder how you ever made it home alive from **parties
  20. The thought of winning a huge lottery scares you to death, because you have personally seen how love of money truly is the root of all evil, but you buy a ticket anyway
  21.  You have recently opened a kitchen drawer, removed a utensil, and scratched an area of your old body that you don’t talk about
  22. When you see young lovers out in public, and your mind wanders, it usually seizes on a memory from a time when you were below the age of consent. and there is still a stirring in your loins
  23. Pretty much every major new invention or government policy that you read about reminds you of George Orwell’s ‘1984’
  24. You still have a phone/fax machine in the garage even though the last fax you received was during the Bush Administration
  25. You see a guy driving down the road in a mint condition 1966 G.T.O. and you immediately want to be his best friend or just steal his car
  26. You need to hear a baby laugh every day, just to get you through the stuff, so you’ve watched this clip of Laughing Quadruplets about a hundred times
  27. You have figured out that vinegar and baking soda will clean or cure pretty much everything, and you wonder why you need all the expensive medicines and crap in your cabinets
  28. Where are Sansabelt pants now that you really need them
  29. Other than your kids being born, your best memories are simple, and almost always involve laughing with old friends
  30. You realize that you are way closer to your death than your birth, and you’re okay with that
  31. Most of the major dental work you had in your 30’s is now falling to bits, but you are not willing to pay to get it all fixed
  32. You realize that a John Wayne cowboy movie and a stiff drink with a really old Norman High School friend will fix any damn thing
  33. There are at least three times that you could have gotten really rich if you’d taken a moderate financial gamble, but you did not, and that really pisses you off
  34. Your new laptop comes with built-in software capable of landing a man on Mars, but you mainly use it to search for stuff that’s lost in your computer
  35. When you go to the mall, you always park in the same area. Always. Because, otherwise, you would never find your car. Never.
  36. The Groucho Marx glasses that you bought for 79 cents were the best single investment you ever made

[ File # csp7439653, License # 1401139 ] Licensed through http://www.canstockphoto.com in accordance with the End User License Agreement (http://www.canstockphoto.com/legal.php) (c) Can Stock Photo Inc. / Metsafile

37. You have OU jerseys that predate Barry Switzer

38. If you had a dollar for every time someone in your family said, “if I had a dollar for every time…” you’d be rich

39. You are very clear about Saturday Night Live: there’s Belushi, Aykroyd, Murray, Gilda and Lilly, then a lump of ***everybody else

40. The only way you are ever going to lose 10 pounds is if tacos somehow start to metabolize fat and scar tissue

41. Long ago you realized that elected officials in Washington, D.C. were not smarter than you, they were jut less ethical

42. You are pretty sure that if a man, or woman, cannot saddle and ride a horse, they should NOT be President

43. You or your spouse have had at least one operation that cost more than the house you grew up in

Ho-ho and Pokey

44. You know that Robin Williams and Jonathan Winters were really great at ad-libbing, but, truly, nobody was as good as Ho-Ho and Pokey

45. And, speaking of brilliant children’s programming, WKY TV’s Foreman Scotty and Xavier T. Willard were the best rootin-tootin’ cowboys of ****all time

46. You would love to go into the garage, find an old tire tool, and then wrap it around the head of the guy who said “65 is the new 45”

47. You’d then bend it over Cowboys owner Jerry Jones’ big, fat head, just because

48. You are a man who has at least one scar from the time:

… as a kid, you did something like push the neighbors normally good-natured dog too far by, hypothetically hitting her with a rope because you were trying to be a cowboy and she simply refused to stampede

… as a teenager, you opened a can of beans with your Dad’s U.S. Military issue can opener just to see if you could do it, which, turns out, you could  not do without serious blood loss

… you had a skin thing that you never told the doctor about and it finally sort of turned into a scar

49. You are a woman who has at least one scar from:

… touching the million-degree metal ends of the electric hair curlers of death

… breathing in clouds of Aqua-Net hairspray, which is way deadlier than  the DDT the city sprayed to kill mosquitoes

… holding your bra together with a safety pin that ‘sproinged’ into your flesh

50. You want to throw your computer RIGHT INTO THE DUMPSTER when you write something important late at night, and technology and formatting get all bitchy and vaporise it

51.  You have come to accept that you will never be able to properly back a trailer or use Excel

52. As a kid, you thought baby chicks that were dyed different colors at Easter were cute, not something to be reported to Greenpeace and the FBI

53. At least once a month, you would give just about anything to have a little more time with your departed Mom

54.  You are pretty sure that all kids would benefit from having their mouths washed out with soap, at least once

brownie 55.  You spent hours and hours looking through the glass viewfinder of your Dad’s Brownie Instamatic camera, and pretended to take thousands of photos of your pets and siblings (especially if they were in the bathroom)

56. Your wife or husband is right this minute wearing the exact same style of glasses that your aunt/uncle wore in 1966

57.  Your chest constricts with fear and you can’t breath properly when you hear the theme from *****Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone

58. Growing up, you frequently watched black-and-white TV shows and at least one sibling had to hold the rabbit ears wrapped with aluminum foil just so

59. You believe that people in their seventies, eighties and nineties must be tough as a boot full of barb wire, because they still get around and you can’t hardly do it at 65

60. You’re no longer embarrassed by those times when you open your mouth and your Mom comes out; in fact, those moments really make you smile.

61.  You also realize that when your kids open their mouths, you come out, and it’s even money whether it will be a good thing or a cringe-worthy thing

62. At least once a day, you are so disgusted by politics and the world in general that you just want to spit

63. You long ago gave on that dream that seemed to important when you were young but now seems like such a waste of  time

64. You would rather walk around the house/yard/mall 20 times than admit to your loved one that you cannot find something you may or may not have lost, but which you cannot exactly remember what exactly it is

65. You thank God for getting you this far, but you cannot in all honesty imagine what it would be like to live as long as your grandparents did. What were they made of, steel?

 

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*Yes, you’ve been known to drink wine out of a coffee cup

** Don’t ask, don’t tell

*** OK, Wayne and Garth are close

**** Sorry Duke

***** Auughhhh!!!

SPOILER ALERT — Top 10 Hogs Blogs from 2015

(Happy New Year from New Zealand!  Here are our favorites from 2015, with the more serious ones at the bottom. Cheers.)

 

 

Bobby and buddies from the Norman High School "Trail".

Bobby, left, and buddies, circa 1973 — NHS “Trail”.

The older you get, the more you understand how hard it is to find a “good man” in this life.

The outpouring of emotion this week in Oklahoma, following the premature death of TV sportscaster Bob Barry, Jr., proved that in spades.

I honestly encourage you to have a look at “BBJ’s” memorial service, which was televised live.  It is compelling, heart-rending and enlightening viewing.

Loving husband? Check.

Doting father? Check.

All round good guy? Check.

Even so, I’ve heard of many men who checked all these boxes.

But in my 35 years of working in or with (frequently “precious”) media types, I have never seen such a tidal wave of love from friends, colleagues, competitors and “plain, old, everyday people.”

Click here to continue.

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Junior on keys for the Rat Pack.

 

Junior emailed me this morning that he would go ashore in Ecuador and Skype us in the afternoon.

Which was great, except that he didn’t say whether this would be HIS afternoon in Ecuador or OUR afternoon in New Zealand.

As it turns out, it was both — his 6 p.m. and our noon.   Win!

Except that wi-fi had not come to Ecuador.

Everything would have been just fine if he’d been in Peru, which is where I thought he was and which has wi-fi.

Who knew there was any difference between Ecuador and Peru?  I mean, they are both somewhere in South America. Or possibly Africa.

I’m not totally sure about that.

Click here to continue.

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(WARNING: reading this blog could give you hypoglycemia)

bazooka-bubble-gum-box

I honestly don’t know why Mr. Uhles put up with us.

He ran the neighborhood store that was exactly 79 steps from my best friend Steve Madden’s front door on Nebraska Street.

We went there so often we wore a trail along Berry Road to Mr. Uhles’ store.

We loved his store, but we hated his old, asphalt parking lot.

It would heat up to about a billion degrees in Oklahoma summer.

Since we were always barefoot, we’d have to hot-foot it across the “lava”, trying not to get a stubbed toe or cut on glass or concussed by our buddy (because boys are always smashing each other just for fun).

Mrs. Uhles had let it be know that we had to smarten up before coming into her store.

That meant wiping the small stones and tar and glass and goatheads from our feet.

Once accomplished, we’d then storm into the store like the U.S. Marines.

At least 900 times every single summer day.

Click here to continue.

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Somebody posted a photo recently of a goat head, the evil nemesis of my youth.

I cannot hardly express how much I hated those things.

If you grew up in Norman, Oklahoma, you didn’t wear shoes during the summer.

Every now and again, you’d step on those suckers.

They’d stab you right in your heal, and bury the “horns” to the hilt.

When you tried to rip them out, half the time the “horn” would stay embedded in your heel, and blood would start trickling out.

That would cost you important play time, because you’d have to limp home so your Mom could perform surgery, using a needle, tweezers and Methiolate.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the wound would ache for days, because the evil goat heads had some kind of poison in them.

It was sort of like getting finned by a catfish on your bare foot.

Click here to continue.

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My Great Grandma Ashley wasn’t big as a minute.

So when she threatened to whip me, I wasn’t scared, even at age three or four.

Besides, when she threatened to swat me, she was smiling that sweet old lady smile.

And brandishing her embroidered hankie — that’s what she was going to whip me with.

Click here to continue.

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Fightball

 

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Writers are supposed to write 1,000 words a day.

Rain or shine.

Summer and winter.

In sickness and in health.

Or something like that.

But this blog has been on something of a hiatas  hiatias hieties break of late, especially from funny.  We have none.

We did manage to blog about Great Grandma Ashley, who was a pistol, and Millennial Douches, but we have no funny.

We blame it on Kris Wehrmeister, my butthead writer friend in Oregon.

Her insanely funny new book, Fightball: Dying of Suck, which YOU CAN BUY RIGHT NOW ON AMAZON!, has pretty much sucked all the available humor molecules right out of the whole entire universe.

Click here to continue.

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miracles happen

(Editor’s Note:  I wrote this and three other stories as part of what I’d hoped would be a book on miracles. That did not happen, so this will.)

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One of the hardest things I ever did was emigrate to New Zealand in 1993, but that’s what was required by my young family.

My Mom had a chronic, debilitating lung disease that not even the Centers for Disease Control could diagnose.  I knew she was not going to get better.  So moving halfway around the world was really hard.

Thankfully, we got to stay with Mom and my step-dad C.B. for about a month while waiting for NZ Immigration to give us the go-ahead.

The delays and red tape about drove my Missus crazy.  But I saw it as a time of grace that gave me precious extra time to spend with Mom.  This was enormously important to me, because I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again.

We made the most of our time, cherishing the simple things.  Mom and I would take short walks, talk, eat, play with my 4-year-old son, and laugh a lot.  Then at night, I would beat Mom.

Click here to continue.

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(Editor’s note: Part Two of Four Stories on My Miracles)

miracles happen part 2 version one fr rookey and our lade

Back in August, I wrote about the many miracles that surrounded my Mother’s death in 1996.  But, I never mentioned the related miracles that occurred in New Zealand … until now.

In 1994 or 1995, Mom was on oxygen 24/7 and had wasted away to 75 pounds. An undiagnosed spore had destroyed her lungs and was killing her. We were all praying for a miracle.

So when I was asked to organize a “healing Mass” in Auckland, New Zealand, by a miracle-worker named Father Peter Mary Rookey, I said ‘yes’! But only after I’d done a fair bit of homework to ensure his bonafides, as old reporters are wont to do.

My research included reading Man of Miracles, the book respected British journalist Heather Parsons wrote about “the famous healing priest from Chicago”, who himself had miraculously regained his sight as a young child.

Fr Peter Rookey

Heather had “embedded” herself in Fr Rookey’s healing ministry, following him across Ireland, and chronicling what she called “miracles of biblical proportion”.

Click here to continue

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Yesterday, I was shopping in our version of Walmart when I saw her.

The first thing I noticed was her short, purple hair.

Then the “circus tent” dress, her 350-pound bulk, and the painfully swollen feet that were somehow stuffed into brightly colored Crocs.

I thought to myself, “I bet Mom would’ve loved this lady.”

Click here to continue.

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(A very, very serious one about abortion)

Oh little baby, you’ll never cry, nor will you hear a sweet lullabye. 

Oh unborn child, if you only knew just what your momma was plannin’ to do.

You’re still a-clingin’ to the tree of life, but soon you’ll be cut off before you get ripe.

When I was a senior at Norman High School, in 1974, I remember happily buying the new Seals & Crofts album, then getting really angry at the lyrics to the cover song.

It was the year after the Supreme Court ruled on Roe v. Wade, five years after Woodstock’s “sex, drugs and rock’n’roll”, and six years after Pope Paul VI released his encyclical Humanae Vitae (Of Human Life).

I was a heathen and a virgin.

The LAST thing I wanted was some “anti-abortion” musicians moralizing their way into my bedroom.

Turns out, nobody else did either.

We were Baby Boomers, and it was all about us, not some unborn child.

Sadly, that sweet song could do precious little to hold back the abortion tsunami.

So now, 42 years after Roe v Wade, these are the *facts:

Click here to continue.