Drunk Ramble About Punktry & Western.

Punk.

The term describes a person who rebels against "normal" everyday society. Generally speaking, they incorporate loud, obnoxious, simple, angst-ridden music into their rebellions. They poke fun by mocking, sticking their tongues out, and cursing violently. I have much punk inside me.

Now old and cynical, I can still one hundred percent love and appreciate Punk Rock. My aged personality still hinges on punk tendencies--for good or for bad. I have a short toleration span, and my humoring skills are about as bad as they were when I was 18.

Although my musical stylings have mellowed in my later years towards Americana, Country (the good shit) and obscure Classic Rock, I still live by Iggy, Bad Brains, Rancid, and the Ramones. The simplicity of the music and message are more than straight forward and essentially say "fuck you" to people that don't get it. People who adhere to the norm need not apply--Punk is not interested.

I don't listen to a lot of punk. I don't branch out to find new bands or go to many shows anymore. That part of it is basically over for me. I still listen to the old standbys, though. And a lot of the bands and styles that I listen to nowadays have Punk similarities and influences.

Punk and Country have crossed paths, and it's glorious. Take Jason and The Scorchers, Social Distortion, or the Supersuckers...Punk Country. Or as Sheriff Kevin Joe Phillips of 40 Horse Johnson calls it, "Punktry & Western". (That's my old band--40HJ. We were glorious. Maybe one day I'll be drunk enough writing on this thing that I'll post some old footage of 40HJ doing a little Johnny Cash or Jerry Reed.) A lot of "fuck you" mentality went in to old Country, as well as simple, straight forward music and songwriting. A lot of Punk similarities...I think that's a big reason I like it so much.

Please don't confuse the style of music that I'm describing as something it's not. When Punk and Country cross, you do not get Jason Aldean or Big & Rich. That's what happens when you cross Nickleback, Rascal Flatts, and a bag runny dog shit. When Punk and Country cross, it can be extremely subtle, like when listening to John Prine or Billy Joe Shaver. And I think it's safe to say that Punk Rock was influenced substantially by Country Music. Think Hank Williams, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash. Rockabilly is living, breathing proof that the two genres are best friends.

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Fantastic Combination

I remember when I was a kid, riding in the car with the parents on a hot day with the air conditioning at full blast. And for some reason, at some point, I would feel compelled to roll down my window, at which point one, or both, of my folks would yell, "Roll your window up! You're letting out the cold air!"

I now understand what my parents were yelling about. They had achieved the perfect comfort level for traveling in a car, and they didn't want to have to start all over just because I fucked it all up by rolling my window down.

But now that I'm all growsed up and have my own car, I really like the "A/C On, Windows Down Combo". Especially while driving around town. Dehumidified, cold, crisp air is remarkable, especially places like back home in Missouri where it's more humid than an elephant's butt. But it's hard to beat the soft, cool breeze of fresh, outdoor air coming in through your car window, too.

So why not create a fantastic combination?

Even to this day, my wife or a friend will say, "Oh, we better roll the windows up since the A/C is on." No. No, we don't need to.

"A/C On, Windows Down Combo" is the best of both worlds. I don't lose cold air, I create superior air. I mix it up. I don't settle for either, or. I combine two wonderful methods.

I honestly don't notice a sufficient loss of fuel economy or power to my air compressor--or really anything at all out of the norm with my auto when I have the A/C on and windows down. My car acts just like it does when I have the A/C on and the windows up--like any civilized person would have. And even though a lot of that cold air is getting sucked out of the window and lost forever, my air conditioner makes more. It makes it really fast.

The key to amazing air is this; First turn on your A/C. Turn it on fairly high--about one notch higher than where you would comfortably have it. Then...roll your window down. I like to roll my driver's side window down all the way, and then I usually experiment with other windows at other levels. Sometimes my passenger side window is the way to go. But other times it makes more sense to roll my driver's side backseat window down--usually about half way. That way the wind isn't blowing me away. It's just a soft, cool breeze.

Don't feel guilty about "wasting" your cold air. It was invented to make you more comfortable whilst driving. So turn it up with confidence...and roll that damn window down so you can experience superior air in the form of "A/C On, Windows Down Combo".

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The Perfect Gig.

You ever hear that saying about people that can't figure out what they want to do for a living? I'm not sure where I heard it, but it basically goes: Think of the perfect job for yourself. Then make it happen.

I can appreciate the simplicity--the straightforwardness. Like a lot of jobs, it sounds good on paper. But I'm not here to bitch about my job again. I'm here to talk things out. To figure out how to accomplish that simple, beautiful statement.

First, I must ask myself that very question. "What is the perfect job?"

Hmmm, I've thought about that question every day for the last 15 years. This much I know: The answer isn't "a fireman" or a "fishing guide" or any other established profession. It's one that I have to create.

The perfect job for me isn't settling. It's not having to deal with bullshit on a regular basis. It isn't redundant, routine, or anything resembling a scene out of "Groundhog Day". The satisfaction that comes from the perfect job isn't solely monetary...it's knowing that you are really damn good at what you do, and that you get paid accordingly. The perfect job is one that grew from your thoughts and ideas, one that feeds creativity and adventure, one that makes you feel alive inside. And obviously, one that you don't have live from paycheck to paycheck on.

So, what is it that I consider the perfect job?

Well, it would be foolish to choose something that I have no experience in. So many professions sound romantic and Utopian, but in reality they probably kind of suck. Example: Fly Fishing Guide. "Wow, you get to go fishing everyday and meet new people! That sounds like the best job ever!"

Yes, it does sound like a swell job. But it ain't for me. I've guided, and managed guide services, and it takes away from the passion. But fly fishing is definitely what I would like to do for the rest of my life. So I might as well get paid for it--only not by guiding.

The perfect gig for me is just fishing. Fishing on my own watch, wherever I want to fish, for whatever fish I choose, traveling to different states, countries, continents, and then writing about it. Writing whatever I want to write for whomever I want to write for. Chronicling my travels, my experiences...mapping out my routes, spinning stories about characters--both of human and fishy races.

Here's the catch, though...I don't want to do the whole "finding a publisher" or "networking with people in the business" or any of that shit. I want to travel, fish, eat, drink, bullshit, and write--that's it--and I want to somehow be paid for it. A modest salary plus travel expenses would suffice. Not a lot to ask for, I don't think.

A mature adult person would start submitting pieces to reputable magazines, newspapers, and various publications. They would start finding the names of big shots in the business--people with some pull. Networking, elbow rubbing, trying to make a name for oneself. Someone with terrific ambition would make it their life's work to hit the pavement and assure that this profession would somehow, someday happen. But that isn't perfect. I really don't want to deal with any of that shit. It totally de-perfectizes it. Remember what I said earlier about not wanting to deal with bullshit on a regular basis?

So in a perfect world, I find a way to be able to split for periods of time. I split, and I fish. I fish, and I write. And hopefully, people adore it. And that's when the tens of hundreds of dollars start rolling in.

I also remember hearing a phrase that goes: Do what you love doing, and people will follow...or some shit like that.

Maybe if I incorporate that phrase with the previous phrase, I might be on to something. The perfect job is doing what I love doing. Keep doing it and doing it well, and people will start digging it and paying me money out of their wallets.

I like that.

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I'm Goin' Back to Springfield.

I am in dire need of home.

Home is, and always will be Springfield, MO--like it or not. I suppose if all of my friends and family decided to up and move somewhere else together, then that might earn the title of home, but they're not, so it's Springfield.

I lived in Springfield from birth until about five or six years ago. Growing up there, it seemed like a normal city to me, though I really didn't have anything else to compare it to. As I grew up though, and started traveling around a bit and living other places for brief periods of time, I soon realized that it's not a normal town. It's weird.

I won't pick it apart completely, but what other city has a church, liquor store, or Chinese restaurant on every corner--almost literally? And it's not necessarily in the Bible belt--it's the buckle. Very religious. I'm talking churches that resemble shopping malls in size.

And then there's Branson. Where Osmond's go to die. If Austin, Nashville, and Branson were all brothers, Branson would get his ass kicked on a daily basis. The place is beyond words.

As odd as I find Springfield and Branson, their locations are tough to beat--at least for somewhat of an outdoorsy-type, like myself. Lakes, rivers, and vast acreage surround the area.

And so do my friends and family. That's the important part.

So, tomorrow I'm off to Andy Williams International Airfield, where hillbillyness and less than sub par entertainment live. I'm sure a huge poster of a toothless, floppy-hat-wearing, moonshine drinkin', yuck-yuck hillbilly from Presley's Mountain Music Celejamboration will be greeting me along with all the Bass Pro Shop cabin vomit when I deboard.

But my friends and family will be there, too. We'll bypass all the theaters and hit the lake. We won't be going to giant church on Sunday morning--we'll be cooking breakfast together and spending some much needed time together. But we probably will go to one of the millions of liquor stores and Chinese restaurants...

As much as I love Colorado...the mountains, the rivers, the lifestyle...it still isn't home. It's just an extremely extended vacation. At least until I recruit everyone here.

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Fuckin' A.

Fuckin' a.

I have no idea what that saying means or where it came from, but I absolutely love it. It reminds me of the hoods that bought me and my crue beer when we were 17. Lenny, Mike, Shannon...and the countless other dirt rockers that looked out for our thirsty taste buds.

"Dude, thanks for the beer! You want one?"

"Fuckin' a, man."

That's how a normal conversation would go after the boxes of beer and bottles of girl-booze were purchased for us minors.

Following that exchange of pleasantries, we would commence to cranking the stereo to the likes of Ozzy, Dio, Motley Crue, or Van Halen. If we were lucky, some of our female classmates would stop by whatever "older person's" house we were at to see what was happening. Usually they were immediately frightened by the ogling and inappropriateness of our older "friends", and would quickly leave.

"Sorry, man. Guess they had some other party to go to."

"Fuckin' a."

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Yet Another New Blog

Well, I'm giving it another shot. I've resurrected one of my other blogs and am attempting to feed another one of my creative sides. The old "Earl Pics", that floundered in creation, is now The Art of Doing (www.artofdoing.blogspot.com).

The name came from my brother-in-law, Pat, and I rapping about...well, doing shit. Basically, Pat and I share a similar outlook on life. We both feel that life is way too short to just sit idly and watch it pass by. Cliche'? Absolutely. But it makes sense to us. Call it a reaction to experiencing a loved one's life cut short...call it motivation to not regret...call it inspiration for others to do...call it a "Bucket List"...call it cliche'. I don't care. But doing makes Pat and I feel satisfied. Experiencing different things makes us happy. It makes us feel like we are constantly in motion, living. That's us, though. We're generally not content, and want to see what's around the next corner.

Anyway, "The Art of Doing" is primarily motivation for myself to not get stagnant. I don't plan on cramming it down your throats, posting everything I do on Facebook, bragging and boasting on how glorious my life is and how everyone else should do as I do because I obviously know all. No, it's just going to be a mish-mash of shit that I, and possibly others, do. A trip, hitting a new bar, going bowling, taking a hike, planning a party, inventing a new chili recipe--whatever I find interesting and motivational. The Art of Doing doesn't have to be epic travels and accomplishments--but they are certainly welcome when or if they ever happen.

Earl's Brain is a stage for thinking. The Art of Doing is a stage for doing.

Do. Don't don't.


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sweet-ass 80s metal video.

When art and poetry collide.

Enjoy.





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